Introductions
Department of Mysteries Cabin
Members:
1. @Strike Allen
2. Declan Blackwell
3. @Josephine Byrne
4. @Demo Chatura
5. @Henry Holbrook
6. @Clayton Lamont
7. @Gyle Lamont
8. @Owen Lochridge
9. Alfie Owen.
10. @Jeremy Slater
Date: August 1, 2026
Flavor description for department of mysteries cabins taken from Cabin Sign-up Thread:ReducioEver been to a quiet, enchanted library? Stepping into this cabin may feel as though you're in one of them. The interior of the Mysteries cabin has a very clear colour palette in midnight blue, black, silver, and violet. Many find the common room is often in a quiet state, filled with something calming and mysterious. Large couches give a comfortable space if the residents do want to interact, but there is equally as much space dedicated to armchairs that stand by themselves and cushioned benches by windows, with pillows and blankets. The walls are lined with endless bookshelves and star charts, and floating candles cover the ceiling, much like in the Great Hall. As many of the inhabitants in this cabin are observant, intellectually gifted, introverted, and some even mysterious, the bedrooms are also kept in pairs of two to ensure that everyone feels comfortable. Each resident can choose a twin XL-sized bed with a trunk standing at the end. There is also a bedside table with space for books and an enchanted candle. Something unique that this cabin has is a curtain students may pull around their bed at night to drown out any noise or light. It’s perfect for when the common room gets loud, or if you are one who enjoys staying up reading in candlelight. The summer camp planning committee suggests midnight stargazing, puzzle nights, or silent reading hours as a bonding experience for those in the Department of Mysteries.
Jeremy stood in the doorway of his new cabin, his eyes wide. He had never seen such a wonderful sight in his entire life.
When he'd seen the cabin sign-ups, there'd been no doubt that he had to pick Department of Mysteries. The allure of getting to be (a pretend) part of that was the whole reason he’d come to camp in the first place. It was the most amazing, most fascinating part of the whole Ministry of Magic. Work so secret that even the people that WORKED there couldn’t talk about it. Not even to their families. Nobody really knew what they did, which was exactly why so many people talked about it, and the stories always seemed crazier and crazier. (Sure, a lot of kids said their uncle worked there, and would tell you the most amazing stories about what they were doing, but everyone always knew they were probably lying. Why would anybody even need to breed a 500-foot dragon that could talk and play wizard chess?).
Jeremy knew that they weren’t going to get to REALLY find out about that stuff at a summer camp for kids (probably… like 99%), but it would still be fun to even pretend it. And they probably WOULD learn a lot about how the Ministry of Magic worked.
But what he saw now was even better than the Department of Mysteries. He knew what summer camps were like, he’d even been forced to go to a few, and they were mostly places that Jeremy never wanted to be (They seemed to be for kids who liked ‘outside’, while Jeremy much preferred ‘inside’). It seemed that somehow he’d found the one camp in the world for ‘inside’ kids.
It was like he’d stepped into the coziest library he’d ever been in. Calming deep blue and purple colors…large, soft, plush couches…moody lighting from the floating candles….and books! SO MANY BOOKS! Books so many that it would take you all day to count them, but you wouldn’t want to do that, because then you’d just waste a whole day that you could have spent reading the books!
Jeremy had a lot of books at home, sure. But nothing like this. His trunk full of books he'd brought suddenly seemed foolish. That was a child’s collection of books. This was the REAL stuff. And with so many books, there was always the enticing chance that there were gonna be some books here that his parents would never let him read, especially after the little incident with the runes a few months back. Here, there was nobody to even see what he was reading. He’d definitely be searching for THOSE books first. He questioned a little the choice of letting eleven year olds stay in a cabin by themselves with no supervision, but he wasn’t gonna question it too hard, because he didn’t want anybody to realize they’d make a glaring mistake.
To make things better (if that was possible), nobody was even here yet. Maybe the camp people had forgotten to add anybody else to his cabin? Maybe he could just sit here by himself, reading all day? All he had to do was throw into his letters home that he’d played some sort of sport or something this week, and his parents would be happy and stay off of his back.
Like a kid in a candy store (or well, a book store), Jeremy took the first book that caught his eye off the shelf (This one seemed to be about hippogriffs) and plopped down on the couch to open it, leaving his trunk in the middle of the room.
Peace. Quiet. This was the life.
Introductions
When her mother had told Jo, in no uncertain terms, that she was going to spend the last few weeks of summer at camp, Jo had not originally been too keen on the idea. Camp sounded so childish, and Jo was eleven already. She didn't need some camp counselors dictating to her how she should be having fun. She was perfectly fine making her own fun. Two things had changed her mind: one, camp was going to take place on the Hogwarts grounds and if Jo got to actually see Hogwarts before the official start of the year... well, that was nothing but an unambiguous win; and two, the camp theme was ministry departments--it meant it was the perfect opportunity to learn more about how in Merlin's pajamas one went about becoming a spy for the Ministry of Magic.
The only problem was she needed to pick a department and she didn't exactly know which department spies worked for. The only department that seemed to do work in other countries was the Department of Magical Cooperation, but being a spy was hardly cooperative, so that couldn't be right. Her other choice was the Department of Mysteries--the department so secret that no one knew what the people who worked there even did. Granda had worked there as an unspeakable, and he'd never mentioned wizarding spies, but he would also not elaborate on anything he'd personally done, so that was hardly an argument against it. And if you were going to have a top secret department, did it not make sense to stick your spies in it?
Worst case scenario, even if she couldn't confirm that spies worked there, she might still learn a bit about what went on in the department of mysteries, and the kind of magic that they worked with; and that had to be interesting or it wouldn't be a secret. That sounded much better than having to inspect broomsticks or learn about kneazles or whatever. So Mysteries it was.
She had no cause to regret her choice when she first stepped into her new cabin, too-heavy trunk in tow. There were so many books everywhere, it reminded Jo of her parents' library, except all blue and purple instead of green. But it was even more exciting! Because if this was supposed to be an authentic experience, surely some of those books would be the kind you couldn't just purchase at Fluorish and Blotts. Her fingers itched to start combing through them. And the beds looked comfortable and had curtains, which made it almost like having your own little room, and rather addressed Jo's main concern about this whole enterprise--having to share a room with a handful of strangers.
There really was only one snag. The cabin already had one occupant. And she recognised them.
"Slater." The sigh that accompanied the boy's name was loud and dramatic. It was only appropriate, considering their last meeting had ended with Jo being grounded for approximately an age and a half, and considering that he'd been the one to mess their rune up. She was not about to admit that there was something just a little bit reassuring about already knowing one of her prospective roommates.
"I see you already have your nose in a book." Typical Slater, too distracted by the books to realise that the most important thing when walking into a new cabin was claiming the best bed. Jo carefully placed her trunk in front of the bed closest to the door. The better to see who was coming and going and slip out unnoticed to explore the grounds.
The only problem was she needed to pick a department and she didn't exactly know which department spies worked for. The only department that seemed to do work in other countries was the Department of Magical Cooperation, but being a spy was hardly cooperative, so that couldn't be right. Her other choice was the Department of Mysteries--the department so secret that no one knew what the people who worked there even did. Granda had worked there as an unspeakable, and he'd never mentioned wizarding spies, but he would also not elaborate on anything he'd personally done, so that was hardly an argument against it. And if you were going to have a top secret department, did it not make sense to stick your spies in it?
Worst case scenario, even if she couldn't confirm that spies worked there, she might still learn a bit about what went on in the department of mysteries, and the kind of magic that they worked with; and that had to be interesting or it wouldn't be a secret. That sounded much better than having to inspect broomsticks or learn about kneazles or whatever. So Mysteries it was.
She had no cause to regret her choice when she first stepped into her new cabin, too-heavy trunk in tow. There were so many books everywhere, it reminded Jo of her parents' library, except all blue and purple instead of green. But it was even more exciting! Because if this was supposed to be an authentic experience, surely some of those books would be the kind you couldn't just purchase at Fluorish and Blotts. Her fingers itched to start combing through them. And the beds looked comfortable and had curtains, which made it almost like having your own little room, and rather addressed Jo's main concern about this whole enterprise--having to share a room with a handful of strangers.
There really was only one snag. The cabin already had one occupant. And she recognised them.
"Slater." The sigh that accompanied the boy's name was loud and dramatic. It was only appropriate, considering their last meeting had ended with Jo being grounded for approximately an age and a half, and considering that he'd been the one to mess their rune up. She was not about to admit that there was something just a little bit reassuring about already knowing one of her prospective roommates.
"I see you already have your nose in a book." Typical Slater, too distracted by the books to realise that the most important thing when walking into a new cabin was claiming the best bed. Jo carefully placed her trunk in front of the bed closest to the door. The better to see who was coming and going and slip out unnoticed to explore the grounds.
Last edited by Josephine Byrne on 5 Aug 2026, 04:42, edited 2 times in total.
Introductions
The cabin door would crack open with a dramatic swing. A young boy allowed the outside sun a moment to light him from behind, casting a clear silhouette of his narrow frame upon the cabin floor. Edging forward, he removed his hood to take in the room. A smile crossed his sparkling face as the wind blew a few strands of hair from his forehead.
"Oh yes, Gyle. This should do nicely."
A suitcase followed him soon after, hovering an inch from the ground and loyally halting in his shade. A second shadow could be seen approaching behind them. They did not reveal themselves straight away. But they were clearly meant to be the other participant of his conversation.
"Look at the fine colours!" He exclaimed in joy, not even registering the first two arrivals of the cabin. It did not look half as mysterious as he had imagined; then again, he knew his own creation would have gone unparalleled no matter what interior he faced this day. He plastered a fake positive impression on his face as soon as he entered just to spare himself from his brother's spite had he admitted his disappointment. It was a good thing he had kept things... 'vague'.
His gaze lowered along the walls of this librarian paradise until it passed through a seated boy with a book. " And books, how... quaint." Clay wasn't particularly averse to books. His interests lay merely in the finer arts, which he assumed would not be the subject of these. Still, he made a mental note to peruse them at his leisure later in the day. Perhaps when the room wasn't so crowded with... Ah yes, other people. Clayton finally made an effort to address the two tiny elephants in the room. Staring at them with a studying look.
It was such a sad affair for a magical school as prestigious as Hogwarts, unable to provide individual cabins. So they were forced to mingle with the less talented of the wizarding community. He ensured himself he could play the role of a philanthropist instead. Yes, he could be an inspiration to his 'peers'. Give hope to the hopeless and all that.
As Clay continued walking, his eyes bounced up and down as he looked at the boy and girl from head to toe. The first of them to make eye contact with him would notice the edges of his hair slowly turning longer and darker as a little mischievous grin slowly widened across his face. Oh, how he loved to add his own mystery to this ro-"OW!"
He had bumped into a trunk left in the middle of the room. Leaving him hunkered down as he hurriedly rubbed his foot. His face immediately turned sour whilst cursing the damn thing into oblivion. "Wh- what idiot thought it would be a good idea to turn the middle of the cabin into a dressing room?" Instead of dark strands, the edges of his hair had now miraculously turned a fiery, wavy red. "Gyle!" He shouted without pause or warning.
Introductions
Gyle wasn't surprised they were at camp, it was a foregone conclusion that the twins would be attending the moment Mother became aware of the opportunity. But he couldn't really complain either. A little pouting, a complaint or two, and some crocodile tears applied at the right time were enough for him to make out like a bandit. Though he was not the actor of the duo, it didn't surprise him that he shared an sprinkle of his brother's talent. And it did not concern him in the least that he was using that skill to milk the situation. Would anyone else not have? If they saw what he'd gotten out of it there was surely no way they'd have acted any other way.
So Gyle marched his satisfied tuchus all the way back to the school grounds. A trunk carrying, most notably, a brand new 26 momme mulberry silk bedding set, some new slippers and a few tins of various baked sweets made the ride there a while lot better. And while it was likely that he would want for something after a week or two, this would hold him over for the time, or before the owls could deliver him whatever he needed.
The only truly annoying part about this whole affair was that he had to transport his own luggage. He had expected the house elves to take them - but no - something about development and responsibility meant he had to take care of it himself. The lack of support for students like the Lamonts was really appalling some time. He had debated complaining, but too many of his fellow youth had just started hauling the things away. At least he wouldn't need to do that. Wands at the ready, a quick swish and flick and the thing would drag itself along besides the twin. Clayton would do the same (because he certainly wouldn't be carrying it) and the twins would head towards whatever tent they'd been assigned.
A tent he had not chosen. Gyle had left this part solely to his brother. A decision which he was just beginning to realize may have been regrettable. Questions on the ride here had been met with ambiguous answers about surprises and the unknown. Gyle didn't care too much, but he knew his twin was keeping things vague to annoy him. Which worked, until he realized it was working. He wouldn't give Clay the satisfaction. Plus, if it wasn't to Gyle's liking, he had the perfect scapegoat. He wouldn't blame his inaction or apathy - but Clay! It was a surefire play.
Thus he would follow his twin as they snaked their way through the brewing chaos that would become this summer camp. Their trunks floating along behind them. Gyle would pretend he didn't see anything when Clay's trunk began to dip narrowly close to the ground from a lack of concentration, and he hoped his brother wouldn't catch him when his did similar. "Carrying" ones own burdens was much easier than he'd have imagined, which made him even more annoyed they'd had him do it and not some maid. By the time they arrived he was quite ready to be done. And then his brother began.
Clay was a showman. It was no surprise that he would barge into the tent as he did. Gyle would let a laugh out at the antics. It was hard to not laugh when around Clay, and his giggles would only stop once he was in the tent enough to see what all this vagueness had lead to.
It... paid off? As his brother went on about colors Gyle took in the surroundings. He was really not one for books, but the seating seemed worthy enough for a sit or two. He would begin to direct his trunk over to the first bedroom that caught his fancy while examining the drapes around the beds from afar. They'd better not be some cheap, light linen or something. His brothers first impression would get a calm "Oh yes... quaint. from Gyle as he tried his best to feign interest in the musky paper stacked around the room as he tried to guess the fabric of his bed curtain without actually going and touching it.
That was until his brother ran into something. If it was their twin connection, or the voice crack from the "ow" Gyle would be snapped to attention at breakneck speed. His trunk would fall from the air and land with a loud thud somewhere in the bedroom as his concentration broke. He would listen to his brother quick rant as he realized they were not alone. He wouldn't give much thought to them, other than trying to find which was one was most likely to be the culprit to this crime.
He knew the moment Clay called what the issue was. The one gift Clay had wanted. A pair of new shoes, perfect for his "summer performance" (whatever that meant). Gyle wasn't one to brag, but they were some of the finest leather (of a kind he'd not mention) shoes he'd seen and brand new. Fresh out of the box. He shared his twins anxiety and pain. He rushed over at once.
He would give Clay a reassuring look before dropping his view down to the floor. He would pretend he hadn't seen the red hair. It wouldn't be that bad... But it was. What waited for him was horrifying. The tip of Clays left shoe seemed to be both slightly crooked and slightly more angled up than his right. And all because of a haphazardly placed trunk.
"Clay your..." He couldn't bear to finish the sentence. He looked away from the shoes. "OKAY, whose trunk is it? I know summer camps are supposed to be educational for those attending but the lessons should not come at the cost of your fellow campers." He would look to each of the tent inhabitants, trying to discern which one was the guilty party while he tried to get his anger under control. "Really, just admit to it, and move this thing out of the way before someone else gets hurt." He'd say in a slightly less annoyed tone than before. A quick look back to his brother, where he hoped to see the red fade a tad. "And, of course, you should apologies to Clayton here." He would clap a hand onto Clay's shoulder as he gave both of them a small, totally genuine smile. "Wouldn't want to get off on the wrong fo- I mean, start the summer poorly, now would we?" Again he looked to the two other tent occupants expectantly.
Introductions
✧✧✧✧✧
| Location: Campgrounds | Date: August 1st, 2026 | Word Count: 688 | Speech #1587A4 | Thoughts #1587A4 |
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────Considering how much he'd missed his family during his first year at Hogwarts, their insistence that he return after only a single month back home in Bristol - saying something or other about how important it was for him to go spend time with his new friends and make even more. He didn't entirely agree with the sentiment; most of these were people he'd seen daily for months at a time, holidays aside, meanwhile the new faces were those he'd know soon enough regardless. Still, he'd eventually been swayed, mostly by the fact that being at camp likely meant spending a lot of time outside, and that was how he liked it - given a choice in the matter, at least.
Packing his bags was a rather mundane affair, given his muggleborn status and lower class family it wasn't as if he had any suitcases enchanted to function as a bag of holding, nor house elves to help (not that he would have forced them to if he'd had the option), nor a wide swath of luxury goods to choose from. Thus what he'd brought primarily consisted of loose fitting summer attire (only slightly haphazard in terms of how they were folded), perhaps 10% of his personal library (a generous term, 10% amounted to 3 books - The Little Prince, Heartstopper Vol 3, and Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief), toiletries, a first aid kit (at his mother's bequest - despite his assurance there was almost certainly no need for it, bug spray, many bags of polyhedral dice, some random minis, character sheets, and glitter pens (in case anyone wanted to play D&D - unlikely but possible), and sunscreen. Besides that, he was bringing along his new wand - obviously - and the guitar his granddad had left him.
Left behind, at least for now, were two objects that had helped him through his first year. The first of these was his dad's hoodie - far too large for the runty blue-eyed boy, who was surely going to be amongst the shortest of his year and was likely shorter than many of the 1st years as well. It wasn't that he'd not have been allowed to bring it, it was simply too warm for it at the moment. The second was Buttons. He was 12 now, and 12 year olds didn't need to bring their teddy bears to summer camp or boarding school. He'd been so very insistent on this fact when his parents asked him over and over and over again if he was sure. Then, once they were underway and he'd realized he very well might need it after all, he was too sheepish to ask his mum to turn the car around.
Best not to bother her about it, I'll be fine... He swore he could feel the wand rattle in its holster at his side, the dragon heartstring was clearly irritated at the thought as soon as it crossed his mind.
Once he'd actually arrived at camp, still one Buttons shy of a properly kitted out suitcase, he made his way to the cabin that would serve as his home for the next month or so. If not for the four cabinmates currently occupying the space - several, or possibly all, of them less than pleased due to at least one slight done to them by the others that he'd been lucky enough not to be present for.
The boy set his baggage aside - literally and figuratively - resting it against the wall where it was unlikely to be in anyone's way. After taking a deep breath, and running a hand through his perpetually messy hair, he barked out an "Oi!" that he was immediately self-conscious over, yet the discordant nature of the room was palpable, and he'd prefer things didn't get off on the wrong foot, "Could we maybe not start camp off angry at one another before introductions are even out of the way? Please?"
He gestured at the twins, "You two especially. They're firsties. Cut 'em some slack, at least until they're sorted, alright? It's their first bloody day here."─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Interaction: C.O.M.B. |
| OOC Notes: None |
Introductions
"Hey, you don't know I'm a firstie!" Jeremy objected, frowning slightly. Luckily he knew from his sister that firstie meant first-year. "You don't know me, I could be a second-year...or a third-year even," he pointed out stubbornly. Sure, he knew he definitely didn't look like one. He wasn't very big, even for eleven, and had only turned eleven two months ago, but the new boy couldn't know that for sure, especially 'cause HE looked like a first-year, and apparently wasn't.
Jer knew that the boy was just being nice, it was just that it sounded like what he was REALLY saying was 'don't pick on the little kids' and Jeremy wanted it to be known that he definitely was not one. Neither was Jo for that matter, but she was on her own on that one ("You!" Jeremy had exclaimed earlier in dismay when her familiar face had appeared in their cabin. That had been when he knew that his peace he'd hoped for was probably not coming).
Maybe it was the older boy's attempted defense that broke Jeremy's stunned silence, which had been there ever since the twins (they HAD to be twins) had come in. They seemed kind of odd and the one boy had been looking at him and Jo quite strangely until he'd stubbed his toe on Jeremy's trunk, which Jeremy had already forgotten was there.
"I did it," Jer said bravely, stepping forward, and holding himself a little bigger, even though it was just a little intimidating doing so to people that apparently already knew magic, judging by the way their trunk had floated. The one boy was smiling at him, and that somehow seemed worse than the other's scowl.
"I AM sorry you stubbed your toe, but you COULD have looked where you were going..." Jeremy pointed out to Hurt-Toe-Boy, helpfully.
He did go to move the trunk though, a bit reluctantly, putting his book down on the couch. When he passed Hurt-Toe-Boy however, he leaned up a bit to get a closer look at his hair. Had it always been red? Musta been....right? Jeremy's parents always said that he didn't notice things with his nose in a book. Musta just been one of those things. Maybe he'd got someone to magic it cause he wanted to make himself look different from his twin or something.
Jer knew that the boy was just being nice, it was just that it sounded like what he was REALLY saying was 'don't pick on the little kids' and Jeremy wanted it to be known that he definitely was not one. Neither was Jo for that matter, but she was on her own on that one ("You!" Jeremy had exclaimed earlier in dismay when her familiar face had appeared in their cabin. That had been when he knew that his peace he'd hoped for was probably not coming).
Maybe it was the older boy's attempted defense that broke Jeremy's stunned silence, which had been there ever since the twins (they HAD to be twins) had come in. They seemed kind of odd and the one boy had been looking at him and Jo quite strangely until he'd stubbed his toe on Jeremy's trunk, which Jeremy had already forgotten was there.
"I did it," Jer said bravely, stepping forward, and holding himself a little bigger, even though it was just a little intimidating doing so to people that apparently already knew magic, judging by the way their trunk had floated. The one boy was smiling at him, and that somehow seemed worse than the other's scowl.
"I AM sorry you stubbed your toe, but you COULD have looked where you were going..." Jeremy pointed out to Hurt-Toe-Boy, helpfully.
He did go to move the trunk though, a bit reluctantly, putting his book down on the couch. When he passed Hurt-Toe-Boy however, he leaned up a bit to get a closer look at his hair. Had it always been red? Musta been....right? Jeremy's parents always said that he didn't notice things with his nose in a book. Musta just been one of those things. Maybe he'd got someone to magic it cause he wanted to make himself look different from his twin or something.
Introductions
Jo was a little disappointed that her barb at Jeremy had gotten little reaction, but she supposed it wasn't entirely unexpected. Clearly, like a man on the throes of an addiction, too much exposure to books addled his brain (yes, it clearly was her).
In any case, she had some reason to be happy that he'd barely engaged, because it meant that, when a trio of new students decided to enter their cabin, she was perfectly placed to lean against the entrance to the room she'd picked and watch them as they all bickered. None of what she saw left her very impressed.
First, no one who called colours fine and books quaint likely had anything interesting lurking in their tiny brains. And while stubbing one's toes was never fun, she definitely agreed with Jeremy that if you failed to actually look, you really only had yourself to blame. Second, she didn't think much of being lectured by someone who couldn't be more than a couple of years older than her (at best), even if it hadn't been her trunk. Third, she didn't need to be defended, and then Jeremy made that worse by getting all defensive before she could even speak, despite having the build of a ten year old.
No, this wasn't at all encouraging as far as this camp stay being a pleasant experience.
But it was intriguing. Going by what the smaller of the trio had said, they all knew each other and had to be older than Jo and Jeremy, which meant they were prime for interrogating about school. The small boy especially, since he was so keen to be helpful. But even that paled in the face of the most intriguing thing, and that no one had even remarked on.
"I'm sorry," Jo straightened up from the doorway and stepped closer to the whiny, stubbed toe boy, peering at him. "Did your hair just change colour?" She wasn't sorry at all.
In any case, she had some reason to be happy that he'd barely engaged, because it meant that, when a trio of new students decided to enter their cabin, she was perfectly placed to lean against the entrance to the room she'd picked and watch them as they all bickered. None of what she saw left her very impressed.
First, no one who called colours fine and books quaint likely had anything interesting lurking in their tiny brains. And while stubbing one's toes was never fun, she definitely agreed with Jeremy that if you failed to actually look, you really only had yourself to blame. Second, she didn't think much of being lectured by someone who couldn't be more than a couple of years older than her (at best), even if it hadn't been her trunk. Third, she didn't need to be defended, and then Jeremy made that worse by getting all defensive before she could even speak, despite having the build of a ten year old.
No, this wasn't at all encouraging as far as this camp stay being a pleasant experience.
But it was intriguing. Going by what the smaller of the trio had said, they all knew each other and had to be older than Jo and Jeremy, which meant they were prime for interrogating about school. The small boy especially, since he was so keen to be helpful. But even that paled in the face of the most intriguing thing, and that no one had even remarked on.
"I'm sorry," Jo straightened up from the doorway and stepped closer to the whiny, stubbed toe boy, peering at him. "Did your hair just change colour?" She wasn't sorry at all.
Last edited by Josephine Byrne on 5 Aug 2026, 17:48, edited 1 time in total.
Introductions
This was surreal. The magic, the weird people, the funny clothes, and now a castle? To be fair, the castle was the least peculiar thing. Ruined castles were a dime a dozen in Wales. But this one looked to be in perfect working order, not a dump, and he would get to live in it of all things! But he was getting ahead of himself. For now it was a cabin he'd be living in, and he saw them just ahead, and they looked to be nice ones, at least from the outside.
Alfie was distracted by more people going past. He smiled hopefully, trying to look approachable and available to chat despite struggling with his trunk of possessions. It wasn’t heavy so much as awkward, and Alfie’s undeveloped arm muscles were beginning to burn.
Duw, Duw!* Were those chests floating?!
Alfie felt as if he pinched himself all this would vanish. He would discover that the last few months had never happened, and magic didn’t exist, and that he wasn’t special after all.
But it had happened. Was happening! Alfie knew it, if only because he knew the pain in his arm muscles was real.
He reached the cabins, looking for the names on the doors to find the one he had signed up for. Alfie hadn’t understood the point of this camp when he gotten the notice about it. “Sort of like a model U.N.?” his mam has mused, trying to stay positive. “Gov’ment has t’ put its hand in everything,” Taid* grumbled, “Even with your lot.”
Alfie hadn’t known what the different Departments meant or what activities they could possibly allude to but when he’d seen Department of Mysteries he’d known there could be no other choice for him, and now here he was, standing outside the mysterious cabin.
Alfie shifted the trunk, which he was losing his grip on, and boosted it back up with a knee. He had no free hand to straighten his school uniform or smooth his unruly curls. He could only square his meager shoulders and try to present the confidence he didn’t feel. Alfie was debating the appropriateness of knocking politely verses strolling in, when raised voices caused him to freeze at the threshold. He leaned closer straining to make out what they were saying, pressing his trunk against the door jam to try to relieve a bit of the strain on his arms.
Alfie couldn’t hear the words clearly, but the first blokes sounded posh. Then other voices, southerners from the sound of it, one younger and petulant. Alfie wished they would all get loud again, so he’d have a better idea of what he was walking into. He hadn’t even heard the girl’s calm voice, which was a pity because her question would have intrigued Alfie most of all.
Enthralled as Alfie was over what might be on the other side of the door, he made the rookie move of not paying attention to anything else, nor to the fact that he and his trunk were currently blocking the doorway.
--------------------------------
*Welsh:
Duw, Duw! : Literally "God, God!" but used as in English expression "Good God!
Taid: Grandad
Alfie was distracted by more people going past. He smiled hopefully, trying to look approachable and available to chat despite struggling with his trunk of possessions. It wasn’t heavy so much as awkward, and Alfie’s undeveloped arm muscles were beginning to burn.
Duw, Duw!* Were those chests floating?!
Alfie felt as if he pinched himself all this would vanish. He would discover that the last few months had never happened, and magic didn’t exist, and that he wasn’t special after all.
But it had happened. Was happening! Alfie knew it, if only because he knew the pain in his arm muscles was real.
He reached the cabins, looking for the names on the doors to find the one he had signed up for. Alfie hadn’t understood the point of this camp when he gotten the notice about it. “Sort of like a model U.N.?” his mam has mused, trying to stay positive. “Gov’ment has t’ put its hand in everything,” Taid* grumbled, “Even with your lot.”
Alfie hadn’t known what the different Departments meant or what activities they could possibly allude to but when he’d seen Department of Mysteries he’d known there could be no other choice for him, and now here he was, standing outside the mysterious cabin.
Alfie shifted the trunk, which he was losing his grip on, and boosted it back up with a knee. He had no free hand to straighten his school uniform or smooth his unruly curls. He could only square his meager shoulders and try to present the confidence he didn’t feel. Alfie was debating the appropriateness of knocking politely verses strolling in, when raised voices caused him to freeze at the threshold. He leaned closer straining to make out what they were saying, pressing his trunk against the door jam to try to relieve a bit of the strain on his arms.
Alfie couldn’t hear the words clearly, but the first blokes sounded posh. Then other voices, southerners from the sound of it, one younger and petulant. Alfie wished they would all get loud again, so he’d have a better idea of what he was walking into. He hadn’t even heard the girl’s calm voice, which was a pity because her question would have intrigued Alfie most of all.
Enthralled as Alfie was over what might be on the other side of the door, he made the rookie move of not paying attention to anything else, nor to the fact that he and his trunk were currently blocking the doorway.
--------------------------------
*Welsh:
Duw, Duw! : Literally "God, God!" but used as in English expression "Good God!
Taid: Grandad
Last edited by Alfie Owen on 6 Aug 2026, 16:16, edited 7 times in total.
Introductions
Strike had not wanted to leave Greece. Not after Liron had returned there following his first year at Hogwarts. But especially not so soon after Liron's mother had passed away and Liron was left with no one else around his age to mourn his mother's loss.
Strike had known her. She had been very sweet and kind to him and at times he had imagined she was like his own mother. Not that he was ungrateful for his own mother by any means...but she was nothing like Liron's mother had been.
Blood traitor, his parents had called her. He still wasn't sure why or what that meant, but they had implied her death had something to do with being one. Regardless, it hardly mattered now because he wasn't allowed to mourn her with Liron or even stay with Liron at all. His parents had brought him to London to prepare for his own first school year at Hogwarts and that meant he had to stop thinking of useless people and things like Liron and his dead mother.
As much as Strike struggled to obey his parents whenever he could, his thoughts kept straying to the boy who had been like his older brother for years and the woman who had cared for him with a tenderness he'd never otherwise known except through her son. And when his thoughts came unbidden, so too did the tears.
One thing the blond boy wasn't sure about yet was whether or not he preferred to be with or without his parents' constant attention. One or both were usually monitoring him at all times so they could be certain he was doing what he was supposed to do, which was generally either training or chores for the most part. Without them around, he felt a little more unsure about whether or not he was doing as he should have been doing. But he could already practically hear his mother's voice in his mind berating him harshly for even allowing his thoughts to steer in a direction that would cause his eyes to moisten. Weakness or showing any sign of it was definitely not allowed.
Taking a deep breath, he blinked back what he could of the moisture and waited a moment before carefully watching the other kids at the camp and trying to determine where he was meant to go. Eventually, he discovered the cabin his father had signed him up for since he himself hadn't had a preference - the Department of Mysteries Cabin.
One of the good things about not having too many personal possessions was that Strike didn't have much in the way of burdens to carry with him; only what his parents considered necessities and a photograph or two. Well, there was the Firebolt broom he suspected his father had purchased for him to make him feel better, but it wasn't as if he'd asked for it. Still, he wasn't sure if they were allowed to use brooms yet in camp, so he carried his broom and his compact trunk and walked right up to the cabin he'd been assigned to...only to see a boy with his trunk pressed up to the door of it.
The boy had lovely blue eyes and dark hair that seemed about as curly as Strike's own was. He seemed to be listening with all his might to what was transpiring beyond the door; listening with such intensity, in fact, that he didn't appear to notice Strike come up to him.
Strike hesitated, not wanting to bother or interrupt the boy, especially if he was in the middle of some important investigating, but he wasn't sure what else to do, either. His instincts screamed at him to make himself useful - instincts that seemed to take on the voice of his mother in his head - but it took him a second to find a way to do that.
Noticing the kid before him appearing to struggle carrying his trunk immediately gave him an idea. The Greek child hurried forward with his broom, set down his trunk, and attempted to wedge his broom handle through the handle of the boy's trunk while bidding the broom to hover. He hope the boy wouldn't mind or get the wrong idea, but Strike had figured if brooms could carry trunks and people on them all the time, the least his could do was assist the boy with supporting at least some of the weight of his luggage.
@Alfie Owen
2nd Gen PC: Strike Allen
1st Gen PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori | Former staff account: Kit Paine
Introductions
Alfie heard the rustle behind him and jumped sideways a very guilty expression on his face. Unsupported, his trunk slid to the ground with a thud just as the other boy reached for it. Alfie had no idea why, or what the other boy wanted with his trunk, but he was too startled at being discovered doing something dodgy, and too amazed by the outlandish appearance of the other boy’s clothing to worry about that now.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he declared, the words rushing out faster than he could compose himself, with the excuse quickly following. “I heard voices. Private conversation. Someone was upset. It would be rude to burst in the middle and—Oh, mam bach!* Is that a broom?”
It was a broom. It obviously was! What a stupid and muggle thing to say!
“I mean, I thought were weren’t supposed to bring them!” Alfie said. “I would have brought my own if I’d known.” The lie calmed him.
Alfie knew magical brooms were a thing, if only because they had been mentioned as prohibited on his supply list. Naturally, he wanted one immediately and jumped to the conclusion of what they must be for. Later, when his muggle liaison officer had taken him and his taid* to that wizard mall in London, he had seen a shop that sold them. The display window had those moving posters with people in uniforms whizzing around on them. Alfie had not seen anyone riding one in person though, so even seeing this one hover and carry a weight was amazing—and before it had even registered with Alfie how considerate the other boy was being, it had registered that those things were expensive! Alfie had sneaked back to the shop with his left-over coins (the silver and copper ones) once his supplies had been purchased and his taid and the liaison-guy were occupied having a pint. He’d been floored by the expense of them. He might have fainted if he understood that the broom supporting his trunk was a Firebolt and not the relatively modest broom that had been so far outside Alfie’s means.
Belatedly Alfie pulled himself together and finally took in the full context of the boy and his actions. “Mighty decent of you,” he said, squaring his shoulders and extending a hand. “Alfie Wyn Owen.”
Alfie could not remember having ever offered his hand to a peer before, or to anyone, for that matter, without prompting and a hissed, 'Manners!' from his mother. It seemed right in this circumstance though. Alfie looked the boy over, assessing him, noting the fine quality of the fabric of his little dress thing or whatever it was he was wearing. He saw that the boy was no larger than he was, but softer somehow. A nice boy. A wealthy boy. An extremely useful boy. Alfie didn’t notice the wet lashes or any redness in the boys’ eyes, he only knew that he liked him immediately and thought they could become fast friends. Alfie smiled.
“Well, it sounds like whatever ruckus I heard is over now. It’s probably safe to go in. Shall we?" Alfie indicated the door with an ‘After you’ sort of gesture.
--------------------------------
*Welsh:
Oh, mam bach!: Literally 'little mother!' Equivalent to 'My goodness!'
Taid: Grandad
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he declared, the words rushing out faster than he could compose himself, with the excuse quickly following. “I heard voices. Private conversation. Someone was upset. It would be rude to burst in the middle and—Oh, mam bach!* Is that a broom?”
It was a broom. It obviously was! What a stupid and muggle thing to say!
“I mean, I thought were weren’t supposed to bring them!” Alfie said. “I would have brought my own if I’d known.” The lie calmed him.
Alfie knew magical brooms were a thing, if only because they had been mentioned as prohibited on his supply list. Naturally, he wanted one immediately and jumped to the conclusion of what they must be for. Later, when his muggle liaison officer had taken him and his taid* to that wizard mall in London, he had seen a shop that sold them. The display window had those moving posters with people in uniforms whizzing around on them. Alfie had not seen anyone riding one in person though, so even seeing this one hover and carry a weight was amazing—and before it had even registered with Alfie how considerate the other boy was being, it had registered that those things were expensive! Alfie had sneaked back to the shop with his left-over coins (the silver and copper ones) once his supplies had been purchased and his taid and the liaison-guy were occupied having a pint. He’d been floored by the expense of them. He might have fainted if he understood that the broom supporting his trunk was a Firebolt and not the relatively modest broom that had been so far outside Alfie’s means.
Belatedly Alfie pulled himself together and finally took in the full context of the boy and his actions. “Mighty decent of you,” he said, squaring his shoulders and extending a hand. “Alfie Wyn Owen.”
Alfie could not remember having ever offered his hand to a peer before, or to anyone, for that matter, without prompting and a hissed, 'Manners!' from his mother. It seemed right in this circumstance though. Alfie looked the boy over, assessing him, noting the fine quality of the fabric of his little dress thing or whatever it was he was wearing. He saw that the boy was no larger than he was, but softer somehow. A nice boy. A wealthy boy. An extremely useful boy. Alfie didn’t notice the wet lashes or any redness in the boys’ eyes, he only knew that he liked him immediately and thought they could become fast friends. Alfie smiled.
“Well, it sounds like whatever ruckus I heard is over now. It’s probably safe to go in. Shall we?" Alfie indicated the door with an ‘After you’ sort of gesture.
--------------------------------
*Welsh:
Oh, mam bach!: Literally 'little mother!' Equivalent to 'My goodness!'
Taid: Grandad
Last edited by Alfie Owen on 6 Aug 2026, 16:31, edited 4 times in total.