26 Feb 2025, 16:51
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship
ILVERMORNY
RULES!!!
Cursa McCoire
Stats: Sta: 7 | Eva: 10 | Str: 0 | Wis: 10 | Arc: 10 | Acc: 13
Abilities: TBD
Trunk: Right Here!
Cursa shook his head. "What the heck...?"
Liam smirked. "With Cailean, you never know, Cursa. Even the most straightforward of tasks requires all kinds of weirdness. I have to admit, Cail's got a real gift for pulling victory out of defeat's maw. I'd bet real money that those two win this."
"You think so?" Cursa heard some faint howls waft up from the pitch below. Colin and his partner, AngelFyre, were climbing trees. In the rain. The other kids had all charged into their cabins to seek the ashwinder eggs. To Cursa, that made sense. You made a plan and you executed it.
"Chaos and Cailean are practically perfect synonyms. Like when he finally told me about that stupid potion. I --- Cursa, I have to say, I really wanted to throttle him. Chaos is one thing, but he really wasn't thinking that day! He showed me the bit of card that was attached to the bottle, as if that explained everything. Colin McCoire: I drink to your good health! is what the card said."
Cursa wondered how thick Colin could actually be. "And ... he just took that as an invitation?"
Liam nodded, a slight smile playing about his lips. "Aye. Mind you, I thought that card looked real sus to me. It wasn't, you know, new or anything. The bottle looked old and dusty. The card looked old too, like it had some age to it. The ink was a little faded and more brown than black."
"Oh!" Cursa looked at Liam. "That means it's been around for a while! Like --- decades!"
"Right?" replied Liam. Cursa watched the action on the pitch as Liam talked. Colin had cast a really brilliant transfiguration on the cabin roof. All while balancing on a tree branch. What the heck...? "I told him as much! We all know that iron gall ink turns brown after a while. I've got a hunch about that note too, Cursa. Somehow ... something about the handwriting. It almost felt like I'd seen it before?"
Cursa wondered about that. "Wait. Old ink. Older than all of us. Handwriting you've seen before. Liam. Do you think that bottle wasn't meant for Woof-Woof? --- I mean, Colin!" A bright light illuminated the interior of the cabin. This AngelFyre was clearly a talented spellcaster in her own right! Maybe Hogwarts wasn't quite as sucky a school as Cursa had thought.
"Woof-Woof?" Liam asked, his eyebrow raised.
"Heheh. Alex and Angus's nickname for Colin," Cursa nodded towards the cabin.
"Sus. What do they call me?" Liam asked.
"Wolfgang. Even they admit you're skilled with music."
Liam smiled. Cursa wondered: what was really going on between Alex & Angus on the one side and Liam & Colin on the other? This was a mystery that Cursa decided he would work on solving. Once he got back America, he'd have to think of a plan to get the younger McCoires to spill the peas.
Red hot ashwinder eggs levitated up out of the cabin, sizzling in the drizzle. And then they dropped into a puddle of water. Cursa's eyebrow raised. "Huh," he began. "That was actually pretty clever, Liam! Worthy of a Horned Serpent!" Liam smiled broadly. He was clearly proud of his brother. He wished they would have a competition like this at Ilvermorny!
"I'm not sure, Cursa. To answer your question. It just doesn't make sense. If that bottle were meant for Cail, why would it look old?" Liam leaned in closer. "I'm not sure yet. But I think the bottle wasn't meant for him." Liam nodded towards his twin. "I --- I think it was meant for a different Colin McCoire..."
@Meyra Lancaster | @Jun Mayumi Mochizuki | @AngelFyre McCubbin | @Emily Shephard
Werewolves: Be sure to treat for heartworm monthly!
Keep your mind in hell; and don't despair.
Cursa McCoire
Rigel McCoire
27 Feb 2025, 01:27
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship
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ISSUE №. 003 |
?????????????????? | 𝑸𝑼𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑵????????𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑺 |
???? | FIVE SICKLES DAILY EDITION |
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MID-AUTUMN |
MID-AFTERNOON |
HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH STADIUM |
@Mamori Anezaki & @Oliver Armani |
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HEADLINES:
THE MISPLACED PIECE IN A COMPLETE PUZZLE;
OLIVER ARMANI
THE MISPLACED PIECE IN A COMPLETE PUZZLE;
OLIVER ARMANI
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Confused chatter can be heard all around the stands. It is such a collective expression that banners are forgotten to hail; the intention to wave the flags is long obliterated. Their bodies are leaning against the wooden guard rail; one push and they will all plunge together in the middle of the stadium. One of them is Aurelia, her thumb and index finger abusing the focus wheel, perhaps on the verge of crumbling in her hands akin to ashes. Whatever compelled her to watch the Potions Championship—wholly convinced that she is out of reach from frustration—better be worth it, as the young badger wholeheartedly needs an extensive reassessment of expectations. Méabh Regan, beloved professor of Potions at Hogwarts, mirrored their befuddlement as Mamori Anezaki decided that it would be such a good idea to throw their brewed Dogbreath Potion—which the audience is not sure if it is even of quality—somewhere near the alerted Red Caps. No matter. Mamori Anezaki does not strike Aurelia as particularly clever anyway. A potion designed to transform one's breath into fire like dragons do; Aurelia half-expected that once the vial hit the forest floor and shattered, it would catch fire, imagining it to be extremely flammable after the fact. The other half of her expectation? That the vial itself would not shatter, as the soil is as soft and as porous as it could be, especially when it is only makeshift, after all. Thankfully, it did shatter. However, it did not catch fire like she had expected; it only conjured a stupid smoke despite the leaves and twigs decorating the said area. As Red Caps are not inherently known for their genius qualities, they were easily distracted; it is, of course, in Mamori's favour as he cast a spell on one of the unknowing. Oliver Armani. The young badger moved her lenses away in the meantime from Mamori and searched for his other partner that is meant to be in disguise and/or in hiding. The other boy is still nowhere to be found, despite the fact that he has blond hair that perhaps shines whenever the sunlight graces it. He should be standing out like Mamori with his hair and bright clothes, but still, no sign of him. Where are you? Her deep brown eyes scoured the next area, no more depending on her binoculars, hoping to catch some glimpse, even a strand of a blond hair that is owned by Oliver Armani himself... to no avail. He is supposed to be helping Mamori in this task. Well, no matter; they must have planned something big that the young Hufflepuff witch most likely missed. Clearing her throat as she realised that she was putting her trust in their supposed and crumbling teamwork when she had not met them personally, Aurelia decided right then that this ought not to be a source of frustration. Oliver Armani could be out there, glorifying himself with his skills in sneaking and doing an action behind the curtains or not, for all she cared. Mamori Anezaki could be their scapegoat and is meant to absorb the blows he is bound to receive, for all she cares. She does not know these people. She will cheer them on, nonetheless, and will hope for the best. Time has passed; watching them do their best in this championship felt like years already. She observed them and has arrived at the conclusion that they are not the brightest lot out there. This monologue brought a smile to her lips as she cheered, her gloved hands smacking the wooden guard rail as though emphasising something they could not see. “Worry not; we expected less than that!” Mamori Anezaki cast something she does not know, making her forehead crease in slight confusion. Whatever he cast, it worked in his plan as the Red Cap, with its horrendous appearance, started bending backward with its mouth open in something akin to hollering. It dropped the solution of their salvation: the basket of red apples. The crowd went silent when the badger in the makeshift forest did not make any move to come out of his hiding spot and make a grab for it, his emerald eyes moving around and scouring the area, perhaps looking for something. What could it be? Aurelia does not know. Her body leaned on the wooden guard rail once more, her deep brown eyes maximised by the lenses of her pair of binoculars. Where is Oliver Armani? It is in her initial search for the Slytherin boy that she had come to the conclusion that Mamori must be searching for him too. If there is someone who is expressively dramatic in response to this certain situation, it would be Aurelia—as the young badger let out a histrionic sort of gasp that escaped her lips, one gloved hand automatically flying towards her mouth to cover such a theatric display. Oliver Armani is the missing piece of the almost complete puzzle; his appearance and assistance will wholly seal the deal with the devil and that hellish pit—namely, the makeshift lush forest. It is most disheartening to see Mamori crouched behind a bush, his candyfloss-coloured hair swayed by the wind—most likely stale because of sweat, his breathing fast as he inevitably waited for assistance that would, perhaps, never come. Oliver Armani must have had cold feet. “For Helga’s sake—GRAB THE BASKET AND BOLT!” The young Hufflepuff witch could not help but scream, born from exasperation. More seconds passed, and Mamori—thankfully—jumped out from the bush, sprinted towards the basket, and successfully snagged it right by the Red Caps' nose. Naturally, no one likes to be stolen from even in a state of high alert, so when the badger bolted towards the forest entrance, one of the stupid creatures swung their club that is made of its victim's bone. He, with his remarkable ninja skills, is not something to look down upon, and he barely dodged it. Which, of course, earned a frightened squeak from Aurelia and shouts from the audience. He is so near to reaching that victory; leaving Oliver Armani behind in the forest had been, somewhat, a decision he had to make. It is almost out of reach. Specifically when another Red Cap, its face contorted in evident hatred and grotesquely mad, swings its bone club and has managed to achieve its goal to hit Mamori square on the back of his head. The boy stumbled, perhaps from the sudden pain that surged through. Everyone in the stands gasped, while Aurelia might have muttered all profanities known to man. She was already convinced that he was not going to make it; the only certainty that sprouted in this situation is the potential head concussion Mamori will inevitably sport later on. Getting out in that forest without a scrape is such a stupid assumption, which the young badger subconsciously made at the back of her mind. However, Mamori Anezaki proved himself strong and formidable to the gods themselves as he successfully exited the makeshift forest, the basket swinging in his hand. Extreme relief enveloped Aurelia's entire being, watching as he trotted out safely after making sure he was not in the forest anymore. Everyone applauded and cheered, the young badger in the stands letting out a desperate laugh before smacking her gloved palms on the wooden guard rail once again. Professor Regan's congratulatory message drowned out all the noise; clapping herself, Aurelia followed suit, her deep brown eyes sparkling. People let out a fluctuating ooh when the pink-haired badger dropped the basket before fainting in the middle of the stadium, face planting. |
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Reducio
EDITOR'S NOTE:
Permission to godmod Mamori Anezaki has been granted by his writer. Permission to godmod the Red Caps has been granted by Professor @Méabh Regan.
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LOCAL CRIME:
A PIE FESTIVAL GONE WRONG
A notorious local prankster deemed it fun to sprinkle drops of Dogbreath Potion within the pies that are meant to be consumed by the contestants in the Pie Festival. Slim Jenkins, unfortunately, had been the first to consume one of the pies, his breath going up in flames and burning the hay bales all around. People ran; Otto Correct reportedly stole some of the cherry pies off of the tables (give us some too, Correct!). It is presumed by the local village that it was done not only for a laugh but also to steal some of the pies baked by local chefs! Otto Correct is arrested.
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memento mori; memento vivere
1,284 wc
1,284 wc
[ the golden girl; the harshness of such warm light ]
[ aurelia valentine, the golden girl ] † [ lucien de montfort, the deranged artist ]
Visit Lourine's SMITTEN shop for handmade pfps with DISCOUNT—FREE for AI pfp users.
[ aurelia valentine, the golden girl ] † [ lucien de montfort, the deranged artist ]
Visit Lourine's SMITTEN shop for handmade pfps with DISCOUNT—FREE for AI pfp users.
14 Mar 2025, 14:15
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship
Speech: Bold #257379
Thoughts: Bold Italics
Cheering On Emily Shephard
Open to Interactions!
Mentioning: Cursa McCoire @Colin McCoire
"Slippery as an eel..."
Casey watched on, impressed, as Emily slithered in between the trees with her potion partner. She had done good putting one of the Red Caps to sleep with the drowsiness draught they prepared in the preceding task. Now all she and her partner had to do was sneak past the rest and grab themselves a basket of apples.
Casey knew they had this in the bag. While they were busy sneaking down on the field, Casey overheard a small tale coming from Red and his spiritually-similar-looking companion. Snippets of conversation whispered past his ear, none of it really piecing together in his head. Something about drinking unlabelled potions. Casey scoffed. He knew someone who was notorious for that kind of thing. Himself! When he was much smaller and scrawnier than he was now.
Still, he liked to think he was doing his father a favour. Being a potioneer, he needed a test subject to make sure his concoctions actually worked. Potions don't just poof out of thin air. Or who knows, maybe one or two did... Anyway! There was no better candidate than his second born son to test them out, for better or for worse. The Day of the Dogbreath incident was one Casey would never forget. And neither would his parents. As well as the Case of the Venomous Tentacula Juice. That was a helluva day.
The conversation taking place nearby slowly drifted out of Casey's attention when he put his focus back to the Potions Championship. He saw Emily and her partner sneaking away with a basket of apples safely stapled into Emily's arms. Casey blinked. Jeez, already? That was some quick sneaking.
Even when he was sitting all the way up in the spectator's seats, Casey could still make out the overjoyed expression on his friend's face. He smirked and shook his head. It wasn't noticeable back then but the more they had been spending time together, her energy had really begun rubbing off on him. Whenever she would smile, he would feel an urge to smile with her. It was the same when she would laugh or when she would skip around the place. Despite his opposite attitude, he liked it when he felt that familiar buzz in his chest.
Oh, what the hell.
Casey stood up on his seat and hollered to the field below.
"WOOOOO! ATTA GIRL!"
Word Count:
Stats: Stamina: 8|Strength: 7|Evasion: 7|Wisdom: 6|Arc Power: 6|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Fearless |Poison Resistance
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
31 Mar 2025, 09:44
The Wizarding Schools Potions Championship
Coding by Estelle Nyx
time: afternoon
word count: 534
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@Meyra Lancaster | @Dennis Tumberton
@OPEN
mention:
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Huh. Well, the Ravenclaw wasn’t one to judge. Everyone had their own weaknesses, after all. Some people were bad at math, some couldn’t do handstands, and some - like this poor girl - suffered from liking Potions. People were just unique like that.
Before she could dwell on it, the girl beside her pointed toward someone in the stadium, introducing her as Raizel Voltrouz ( @ Raizel Voltrouz ). As soon as she said the name, Novalie’s eyes widened slightly.
“What a cool name!”, she commented earnestly, watching the Gryffindor in the stadium for a moment before adding, “And she’s really pretty too!”
There wasn’t a single doubt in Novalie’s mind that Raizel had to be awesome, after all, the girl beside her had said so, and the way she looked so determined added to it.
“So, you’re cousins?”, Novalie asked, now turning her attention back to the girl beside her.
The redhead glanced at her briefly, taking in her features, then shrugged and returned her view back to the stadium. They didn’t really look alike in her opinion.
When Novalie had asked why she wasn’t cheering for anyone, the girl explained that she was there to support her cousin - but wouldn't scream like a horse hen. That comparison made Novalie chuckle. A horse hen?
That was a great image! Next time perhaps, she could get her hands on an actual chicken and make it yell alongside her to cheer for her friends. That’d be really sick!
“But that’s lame, isn’t it?”, Novalie replied, “I mean, how are you supporting her by just watching? That’s what everyone already does anyway. I bet she’d be happy if she actually heard you cheering for her.”
Not so long after, someone else joined their conversation. A boy - one Novalie vaguely remembered seeing around the Ravenclaw Common Room - took a seat beside them. Without hesitation, he shouted to light up the Red Caps.
“YEAH!!”, Novalie didn’t need an invitation to instantly yell in agreement toward the stadium, “LIGHT THEM UP! LIGHT THEM UP!”
Uh... They weren’t actually alive, right?
But what if they were?
The Metamorph paused for a moment, contemplating the possibility. Just to be safe, she quickly pivoted-
“LIGHT THE STADIUM UP!”
Yeah! That way, no one really got hurt.
When the boy leaned in, commenting on how they had gone all out for the final round, Novalie mimicked his body language, leaning in as well until they were both practically invading the personal space of the girl between them.
“They did! Makes me wanna enter next time too!”, she grinned.
Novalie was just about to agree with him, saying she was curious about what potions they’d be brewing too, when the other girl corrected them. Apparently, the potion-making part had already happened this morning?
Novalie blinked, baffled.
“Oh, really?”, she looked at her in disbelief, “But isn’t this, like, the Potions Championship? Isn’t this what it's all about?”
Weird.
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