#bitingdownhprp

The blonde still couldn’t make sense of it. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and still she struggled to grasp what had actually happened to her. As her fellow healer waved their illuminated wand around in her vision -- searching for open wounds and echoing the crowd’s hushed questions about her well-being -- Vegas couldn’t help but swat at the shining light in irritation. Why was everyone fussing over her? There were more important people to be concerned with right now; an unstable and rather volatile Harry Potter, the unknown figure responsible for all of this mess, and poor Sam... Sam, who didn’t deserve to be dragged into any of this mess, whose beloved storefront had been so cruelly targeted and whose life was only bound to get even messier with Rita and The Prophet sniffing around. 

A slightly battered Vegas Adelaide was the last thing people should be concerned about, and she wasn’t even that injured! Sure, her head might have grazed the ground a few times, but it wasn’t anything she hadn’t faced before as a seeker. She had a headache and some bruises, she wasn’t dying. Fussing over her wouldn’t get anything done. She didn’t want special treatment, she didn’t want people worrying about her -- she just wanted to go home.

“Would you kindly stop waving that thing in my bloody face? I told you -- I’m fine. I don’t need to visit the ward, I need to go home and sleep it off before my next shift!”

The gillyweed was wearing off, but Danny had always been a strong enough swimmer that he could hold out for another minute as his artificial gills shrunk and his fins had retracted back into limbs. He broke the surface of the lake, sealing water into the sack that hung on his shoulders as he backstroked to the shore.

Lake water was disgusting; it was too still and too calm, two traits already that proved that Danny was an unwelcome guest. Very few had bothered to explore the deepest parts of these lakes, but the only kind of flora that Danny knew was worth collecting was there. The Pacific had scarier creatures, but there wasn’t one who wasn’t willing to bargain.

The rocky shore was a little easier to clean off than fine sand, but it wasn’t a good place to relax. He glanced along the shoreline of the lake as he dug into his bagpack for his wand to brush off the debris his wet skin had picked up. Pacific Princess had said that there were ruins all over Scotland, but Danny himself hadn’t bothered to go looking. Right now, making the galleons was more important, but he was painfully aware of the gray Pegasus feather on the front pocket of his bagpack.

The door sounded once more and Avery groaned, pushing his chair out from behind him with more force than necessary. He wasn’t even sure if his wife was home, but what he did know was how irritated he was becoming with the increase in visitors this bloody travel ban was causing. Couldn’t a man get some bloody work done around his own home every once in a while without an uninvited guest or his brother trying to make a mess of literally everything? For Merlin’s sake...

Avery made his way to the heavy doors, swinging it open and trying to ease the irritation from his features when he was met with a familiar face. 

“Flint?”

It didn't help either that the faculty mourned the loss of Hagrid, the groundskeeper, but not enough to fetch his dog from the hut. Julian quietly fed the dog and sat on the floor, lamenting their predicament, as the dog drooled into his lap waiting for its real owner. By some unspoken agreement, Julian had to be the one to herald in the first years across the lake with the dog too, almost as if trying to remind the dog that they both had a responsibility to the school.

But the dog didn't ask to work at the school, and maybe, as silly as it sounded, that's why Julian pitied him all the more. Julian could have gone, disappeared somewhere too before all of this happened, so he couldn't feel sorry for himself in this case. He felt like he was stuck -- not moving anywhere in particular, and doing what he's supposed to do, with little reward except the longer vacations -- and the attacks have made it worse for his chances at leaving Hogwarts after 14 years.

He wished he had used his one day before the start of term to fall asleep, but for some reason, taking care of a dead man's dog was more of a priority than getting rest before the term started.

He was immediately caught off guard by the first day of classes, but he was thankful that Julian from the year before had outlined the perfect plan, at least enough to tide him over for the next few weeks. So as unprepared as he was that day, he only hoped it was a fluke, that he would be back in the regular swing of things, with office hours on Tuesdays and lesson planning on Thursdays, grading on Fridays, and Sunday tea with Professor McGonagall. It made him uncomfortable knowing that he hadn't been able to sit down and really think about his students, and all of the extra work that he didn't ask for meant that his priorities couldn't actually be teaching.

But there seemed to be much more in his schedule than what seamed reasonable -- meetings crossed paths and what were once neatly lined boxes in his planner overlapped. Or maybe he was just going cross-eyed every time he tried to plan something. Maybe he needed a walk, or a cup of tea, or sleep. Julian finally dragged himself from his desk that now served a second purpose of being his bed, and wandered to the deserted hut, tugging the dog along on its leash.

He was hardly paying any mind to where he was going, half-asleep as he wandered the grounds and eventually getting to some place that was no longer the Hogwarts grounds. Julian rested on the ground for a moment, tugging the dog over to where he sat and let him rest on his lap. His fingers scratched behind the dog's ear, his head drooping over the dog as his eyes closed for only half a second, maybe, before being startled by something nearby.

Reports wasn’t something that Asher agreed to when he was forced to guard his mother’s Alma Mater. He had the expectation that all he would have to do was walk the corridors late at night, tell kids to go back to their rooms when they were pass curfew, and make sure all protection charms were intact, but of course it wasn’t just that. They were forced to write their own reports about what had happened within their shifts, and though it may be accustomed for the aurors to do this amount of paperwork, Asher wasn’t. He grumbled and put a blame on that unqualified professor for this extra work. What made it worst for the man was being told that he had to submit his work to his fellow employees to make a cumulative report for the ministry.

Asher didn’t hide his annoyance when he was told of these reports, and he definitely didn’t hide it when he was on his way to deliver his work to the next auror. He walked down the corridors in wide strides with a hard look on his face; the very same look that made many of the students know that the man wasn’t someone to be messed with. The report, written in small fine lettering on parchment, was held in his hand as he made his way into the great hall and towards a pale man who was sitting in their designated ministry table, alongside the tables of the Hogwarts staff. “Malfoy.” He said blankly, dropping the parchment onto the table next to the man. Asher had mixed feelings towards this man. Malfoy has yet to annoy him, but he has heard many negative things about his family through his mother and the gossip at the local pubs.

as the drop finally came, he smiled to himself at the sight of the crowd, people dancing with each other and -- well he was notably ignoring the multiple drunk people on the side sitting on the ground and spilling drinks all over. -- god they need to handle their shit. he shook his head in slight disapproval and clicked on a few more buttons to allow a queue of at least two more songs before walking off stage towards the bar.

his shirt clung onto his chest, having been dancing and jumping along with the crowd for at least an hour and a half now and he was in dire need of another water bottle. “four water bottles.” he called out to the bartender and handed him a few coins.

“How could you fuckin’ leave me, too?!” Ethan shouted into the fading summer air as he allowed himself a brief moment of raw human emotion. Alfie was always there for the wayward chaser and never gave up on him, not when Puddlemere rejected him or when he let his anger get the better of him. Alfie was his best friend, his teammate, his mentor, his brother, he couldn’t be just be... gone.

There was only way Ethan knew how to temper the sting and he cracked it open hungrily. Unhinging his jaw like the serpent some believed to be his true nature, Ethan brought the untouched bottle to his lips allowing it’s contents to slither down his esophagus and drop into the depths of his empty stomach without so much as a shiver, just the hunger to numb the pain for however long the bottle would allow. Ethan continued to chug as if reaching the bottom would bring Alfie back, spiraling into the oblivion he so desperately craved.

A voice called his name. At first, he didn’t budge, fixed only on his surmounting grief and the unsettling opening and closing of his own heartbeat. He wasn’t even sure if the voice was real or just a figment of his budding intoxication. It wasn’t until a second calling that Ethan turned around finally lowering the bottle down from his lips.

Marius wasn’t expecting visitors. The only person who would visit him was now dead, and for all he knew, he was going to die in the family’s basement in their summer home. His mood quieted to a simmer, with not much to do but walk in circles without a wand or windows.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been, but he turned immediately as soon has he heard something that wasn’t his own footsteps. “What the fuck do you want?”