Enchanted Winter
Coming across @Aurelia Valentine on the Grounds of Hogwarts
Saturday, 1 February 2025
February in the Scottish Highlands where Hogwarts was nestled was often cold and wet. Simon expected as much when he went to the Great Lake with his wizarding camera in hand with hope of maybe finding Herman out within sight. He had yet to capture a photo of the illusive giant squid and maybe, just maybe, today would be the day. It was quite cold and maybe the lack of students would bring Herman out from hiding.
But no, there was no sighting. He had stayed for some time but it was cold and his already cold dhampir self combined with more cold could create what felt like an even colder situation so it was best time to head back in. The wind had picked up and the cloud cover seemed awfully thick, blocking out any sun and looked as though snow could come at any time.
No wonder no one else seemed to be out.
Simon headed back toward the castle, wishing he weren't quite so far away as the wind kept up - racing along. Flurries began to fill the air, whipping into his face. He headed up a small hill and before he could get to the top, snow was now falling so heavy, and so fast, that he could barely see that there was a large castle within the distance. It was there though, although blocked mostly by snow, and still quite far off. There was something else too, if his vision was correct - someone else. Who else had been caught out in this sort of blizzard? Simon hurried to try and catch up with the other. "Hello?!" he called out loudly, hoping to be heard over the loud wind.
Be kind to one another. (*iNPC is Miles Thatcher)
Enchanted Winter
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ISSUE №. 001 |
?????????????????? | 𝔇𝔄ℑ𝔏𝔜????? 𝔑𝔈𝔚𝔖 |
????????? | FIVE KNUTS DAILY EDITION |
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FEBRUARY 1st |
13:16 |
HOGWARTS GROUNDS |
@Simon Kincaid |
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HEADLINES:
A VOICE CAN BE HEARD WITHIN THE WOODS
A VOICE CAN BE HEARD WITHIN THE WOODS
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| ?????? |
Mittened hands still holding the scented parchment, the throbbing of her head eventually reminded her that she is out there, the extreme cold pressing down on her head. The wintry breeze whipped past, whisking the ends of her winter cloak, the wetness of the flakes soaking the ends of her pants, which sends a shiver down her spine. Rolling the said parchment and pocketing it in her robes, Aurelia looked around. Fog had covered the space where one can see the overview of the castle, the greyish sky overhead casting a melancholic glow in an otherwise bland snowy day. What is happening? This isn't right. February is supposed to be opening a way for spring. Then she remembered she does not live in Croydon anymore. She is out here, in the Scottish Highlands, far away from the familiar frequencies of the weather that the cosmopolitan city provides. It must be raining in London as she stood here, her mum alone in their house in Croydon, perhaps sitting in front of her laptop, writing feverishly for a living. Far away from her. Feeling an agitated sense of homesickness, the young badger attempted to take a step backward, as her mind urged her to run away from this foreign place. She protected her eyes with her mittened hands as soon as the cold breeze whipped past her, also sending a force of flurries that she was 100% sure only heightened the feeling of coldness. No. Aurelia decided she's a witch, because let's face it: London did not provide the belongingness Hogwarts presented to her. London believes she's a freak and somehow shunned her for being weirdly different. The school consists of a cluster of people who are just like her, perhaps meant for greatness or perhaps meant for a mundane life. The crunch of the snow beneath her winter boots reminded her that she has to go back as the snow is falling heavily upon her, covering the grounds like a pristine white blanket, which perhaps is already an inch and a half. Being that she has never experienced a kind of snowstorm like this before, the total obscureness of the sun scared her to bits. “I can see the sun, but even if I cannot see the sun, I know that it exists. And to know that the sun is there—that is living,” Aurelia whispered to herself, quoting Fyodor Dostoyevsky, an excerpt from his classic book The Brothers Karamazov. She took the quote way out of context, but she does not really care since no one can hear her either way. Climbing a slope, Aurelia looked out again with her hands over her eyebrows, attempting to oversee the castle. As Aurelia had a terrible sense of direction, she did not know where to go, so she aimlessly ran, her deep brown eyes scouring the area, hoping for a glimpse in one of the turrets, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw; she didn't care. Then she heard a voice along with the wintry breeze, almost whisking away her winter cloak. She hastily turned, searching for it, her deep brown eyes frantically searching for the voice that resounded within the woods. Must have been the wind. Then she supposed it might be a stray, dangerous magical creature that is starved because of winter or perhaps had woken up from its hibernation because of the snowstorm. Her heart pumped an irregular beat before running again, her senses heightened to exhibit alertness as her head swivelled left and right as if expecting something or someone jumping at her in full speed. Merlin forbid her from meeting her perilous death in the grounds, because that was lame if she could say so herself. The tall figure standing before her had gone unnoticed as Aurelia bumped right into it, immediately sending her back from the unprecedented impact. Her back hit the ground, which knocked out all air her lungs had accumulated from the past second. Oh, she's dead. Inherently supposing that it was a tree, the young badger tried to roll on all fours, gasping for air, a suck of breath sending a shoot of sharp pain in her throat, which felt like an icicle lodged itself in there. “That hurt,” the young Hufflepuff witch complained as she choked out, attempting to stand up again. |
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memento mori; memento vivere
[ 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.
Enchanted Winter
Coming to the aid of @Aurelia Valentine
"Smacked into it right good, if I say so myself," Simon said as he knelt down beside her and extended out his hand; an offering to help her stand and straighten herself out. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at it just to ensure that all is well. I'm an intern with the Hospital Wing," maybe that would make him more qualified than another random student at this school. Simon did take it pretty seriously though and medicine had become more than just an interest of his but his future calling. He would become a healer someday and checking upon bumps such as this would become routine for him perhaps.
"We need to get out of this storm." It wasn't safe. She could easily bump into something else and he could easily freeze - as his body temperature was already considerably lower than that of a full human's. He already felt cold, too cold. Hypothermia was beginning to set in. He had been shivering like crazy and his breathing was slow. In fact, if the girl didn't come with him willingly, he wasn't against just picking her up and attempting to force her to the tent - at least while he still had his dhampir strength.
He couldn't quite tell who it was through the snow that whipped all around them. "I'll get it set up right over here. You only need to walk a few steps." And he could help ensure she didn't fall again with a perhaps lack of coordination from being dizzy from the bump and the fall.
Simon would help her get up if she obliged and kept her steady with one arm, while the other was extended down into his enchanted satchel that was along his shoulder until it found his Majesto 500. He pulled it out, it seemed small enough and when he tossed it out into the clearing, it instantly sprang into action and took form of a small military sort of tent. "Come inside, I can also make you tea or some hot chocolate and I have some of my Aunt Maggie's cookies." And a warm fireplace sounded grand right now.
Inside, if they made it this far yet, she'd find that this wasn't some simple military sort of tent but rather a spacious - with several rooms - wizarding tent with extension charms. It was comfy and cozy inside as Simon wouldn't have it any other way.
Be kind to one another. (*iNPC is Miles Thatcher)
Enchanted Winter
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FEB. 1ST, SAT______________________ HOGWARTS GROUNDS
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thinking • speaking • other dialogue@Simon Kincaid
“A cloaked figure within
the woods,”
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?
The cold wind is relentless, whipping back the hood of her winter cloak, her wispy curls coming undone. Aurelia Valentine does not know the reason why she can imagine vividly how the biting cold seeped through layers of sweaters beneath her cloak, gnawing at her skin mercilessly. A huff escaped her lips, her breath visible in the winter air. There is something cruel about winter, she realised, on how every breath one takes one can feel - as though it was real - an icicle lodged right there in their lungs.
It caught her off guard.
What a horrifying and morbid thought.
The sun is obscured from the greyish cast overhead. The trees are collected, so dark that it appears to be angry slashes of the murderous wind. The pristine snow blanketed the whole field, not smudged by any colour other than pure white. How can one appear holy and at the same time, brutal?
The only hope she clutches onto are the colours of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw turrets, which are still nowhere to be seen. How come she overlooked the aforementioned snowstorm? Did she only skim the weather department of the Daily Prophet? How preposterous, one can she call barbaric. Of course, careless can be considered too.
Aurelia snapped out of the recesses of her mind when a voice pulled her out from her spiraling thoughts. A cloaked, older boy is kneeling beside her, offering his hand. That is when she remembered the pain the bump had caused, the sting increasing by tenfold as moments passed. He blended right through the trees; this would not have happened if he had stood out more than the rest of them.
Stranger danger.
Straight facts laid out before her, tied by red strings conjured by her mind. One, Aurelia is in the middle of nowhere; she is helplessly lost. The weather is relentless and perhaps meant to kill. Two, she has a terrible sense of direction. She does not know the way back for the life of her.??
She could not identify him from the snow whipping around them, as though by fate their identification should be obscured. When the young Hufflepuff witch is in a state of indecision, usually from the lack of concrete truth and relying only to her assumption and perception of the situation, she usually consults her intuition. Should she trust a stranger to take her away from this hell?
Who said she has a choice?
A mittened hand accepted his offer, another strained huff escaped her lips as she forced the entirety of her being to stand up and straighten herself. Terrible, must be because of the fall. The force of the wind disrupts her breathing as she followed the boy, their winter boots creating an echoing crunching sound against the snow.
“I can't breathe properly!” The young badger threw out there as he assisted her to walk. Aurelia did not dare to peek what was ahead, imagination of icicles buried through one's lung did not help, lodged through eyeballs would be too graphic.
Her deep brown eyes snapped open when she urged him to go inside somewhere, his voice quivering from the harsh cold, the rest slightly incomprehensible to her. A military tent appeared before them mysteriously, all things considered this spectacle made her eyebrow raise. The fog could be thick, the snow could be piling, the tall trees could be dense. However, something as big as this should still be visible to the naked eye.
Where does this tent come from?
Before she could even protest or ponder on such sudden decision, Aurelia is already guided inside the tent. Nothing could have prepared her from how spacious the tent looks inside compared to the outside. The interior is similar to an entire house, if one is compelled to look around Croydon, the style and furnishings should be comparatively indistinguishable to their neighbours'.
“WHAT?!” Aurelia thundered, forgetting the harsh cold a moment longer as her deep brown eyes scoured her surroundings. This is an abomination. There is still a lot she does not know about the Wizarding World. Clearly. Sometimes, time could tell.?
ISSUE NO. 003________________________________________________ 5 SICKLES
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code by the amazing Adeline Spinks
736 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.
Enchanted Winter
Hoping to get @Aurelia Valentine out of the storm
"The tent," Simon said, speaking the what again of where they needed to go to shield themselves from such a storm. "I'd take you to the Hospital Wing although I can't quite make sense of North or South or East or West or here or there at this point with the snowfall." In fact, the bright white that was covering absolutely everything at rapid speed did no good for his dhampir eyesite as each bit caught as much light as it could on the way down. This wasn't like in the dark where he could see better and if anything it impeded his vision.
"The tent will be warm and the tent will be dry and we can get out of this. At this rate, we wouldn't even know if we were going to walk right into the Black Lake or smack right into the Whomping Willow. I've seen that.... No one wants that." It was horrific. Sometimes that tree had absolutely no patience with the students that stayed upon its Grounds.
"Please?" Simon said, lifting the flap of the entrance. If she would enter she would see just how nice it was inside. Multiple rooms, a very nice living room space - that warm fire, comfortable seating.
This storm was no place for anyone right now and it only seemed to be growing heavier by the moment.
He didn't even know who she was because the storm was so thick, not allowing him to see her although she was right in front of him. Simon knew from her voice alone that it didn't seem to be his closest friends or AngelFyre but beyond that, there were no clues as to her identity.
Be kind to one another. (*iNPC is Miles Thatcher)