Event The Fall Ball (Masquerade)

Wooooooooooooow.

So, okay, boys and girls. @Xailah Alptraum missed the boy just a little for his own luck. Why did she attack a student really — was the late thought. That wasn't the most clever thing, considering she was a prefect. Her own Depulso was just an attempt to prevent an attack really. Not meaning any harm. Self-defence, if that could even count. She thought that as she was imagining how to lay down all the memories properly in her head in order to retrieve them as a clean record later. And she was more than sure she would.

As her spell reached the doll rendering it to what it should really be — a piece of cloth — she watched Xailah getting the hold of it. What's next? Please, Xailah, do the next right thing.

The next thought would be accompanied by sparks in the blackness of shock as she was coming to her senses and bringing back the reality analysis tool. The pain was coming from the inside as she was trying to catch precious air to get her lungs back online. The world was rendered black and white and the colours started to slowly come back into the view as she felt her blood oxygenated again.

Was she attacked? That was really the first physical attack in her life. It hurt. To the point there was no words to describe it.

She recognised Xailah, then Erin landing a punch on the smaller boy, who previously tried to do a confusing thing to Xailah. Who was missing from the scene? Oh, right. Vladimir boy. She turned to him, seeing the evil fluids coming from the boy and spreading around the room. The word 'fire' was echoing in her head as she plummeted to her knees, with both hands on the ground, wand in one. And trying to breathe as sharp pain was dehiscing at the area of her ribs. Was now the time? She couldn't decode what exactly Vladimir's call-to-action was as she failed to understand things yet. But in the corner of her eye, she'd see the other boy draw the wand towards her friend. Vladimir was doomed anyway, too many witnesses. He won't get away with it this time.

She stood up on one knee to pray for initiative hope to be on time, and cast a spell towards @Selim Faust — an Expelliarmus voiced out as clear as she could. No fire. No attacking prefects, or anyone.

Interacting with @Vladimir Athanatos

Really, Vladimir? Did you really hit a girl? She'd try to stand up fully, holding a hand on the ailing spot, and addressed the maniacal shouting boy: "So, that's... what you've learned... in the little fight club of yours, Vladimir? ... How to hit girls?"

Action: Casting Expelliarmus at Selim

Open for interactions!

Ever since moving Amara and the rest of her posse away from the chaos something didn't feel right. She complained that something had come over her as they stood next to the table, observing what was going down in front of them without a care in the world at this point. As time went on Amara's condition only got worse, making her feel more sickly and pale by the second. Percy offered to take her back to the dorms safely, but her cousin Johannes insisted in taking his girlfriend back, an offer he couldn't say no to. He said his goodbyes to Amara and offered a small nod to Johannes as they began to slowly make their way out of the ball.

Percy could only sigh as he leaned up against the table, another one of his partners had gone for the second time. All he hoped for now was that the ball didn't repeat itself for the third time running, a prospect which was bound to happen at this point considering all the needless fighting going on. He slowly poured himself a fresh cup of water and examined the chaos before him, taking a sip every now to clench his first from the dry conditions. The thing which was noticeable was that it was almost the same people fighting. Did they not learn from their mistakes from the last time?

Even though he was in a sulking mood, nothing was going to stop him from making it through the ball to the very end. After all, curiosity always got the better of him. All he had to do now was keep his eyes peeled and wait for something big to happen, and pity fights were not going to cut it.

Primary Interactions: @Erin Ryan | @Maria Dee

It was becoming more and more clear the balls are not for the lovers, but the fighters. Or those select few that enjoy a combination. Yes, when you assemble all fifty shades of emotional degrees, you get this bizzare pairing. Though it’s much easier to notice when things are out of place. Not paying any mind to the minority that adhere to the standards at a ball: You spin in a circular hug for hours until the music tells you to halt.

What was much more noticeable was the violence, even if the norm these days, it did not fail to awaken Thomas, witnessing one of his confidants engaged with Vladimir Athanatos and a pair of Gryffindor prefects. One whom he spoke to before his entrance today in what became a cryptic intro. The truth was, Thomas had no knowledge of any impending doom, but he enjoys generating unease for those that go looking in places they don’t belong. It appears the girl looking for trouble has ascended to the troublemaker, was she hiding after all? [ @Meenauh Silmataurea ]

This moment has been a year in the making, Lestrange was faced with another crucial choice. To continue his facade as Vladimir’s ally-- a bridge that he intended to burn. Or, to throw it all away and gain esteem from his newfound colleagues. The decision may have been easier if a rare person of trust had not intersected himself between them. @Selim Faust came to Vlad’s aid, successively making himself a target.

Much like the previous ball, Vladimir was well in control. There was no proof to tie him to the doll that Thomas knew he was connected to. All of his actions have merely been in self defense, or at least from what the boy saw. The pair of prefects may have many reasons to believe the boy is in the wrong, but their littling proof would eliminate any understanding from the many wandering eyes of their superiors. Thomas knew all too well Vladimir would play victim as he did at the Blossom Ball, and it would likely succeed.

A professor’s intervention only furthered the boy’s stance to arrive as a mediator, careful not to damage his pre-established position with Vlad. Also wary not to alienate himself from the other house representatives he would be seeing more of. So Thomas ushered Maria along at his side, there wasn’t much to say as she witnessed what he did. He would not instruct her what to do, careful not to risk her turning on him.

The boy quickened his pace in approach. At this point, the most familiar veela would plant herself right in the middle. A development the boy should have expected, she had a knack for exacting revenge at balls. This time it was Selim, not Thomas, that was her primary target. The boy knew at this moment it was she he needed to neutralize first. “Ryan, you’ve become quite predictable.” Thomas spoke out with a stern tone, his jaw tightened with a swift retrieval of his wand, pointing it squarely at her visage. She would make quick work of Selim if she was allowed to pummel the boy without retort. “Verdimillious.” She would not be as dangerous if she could not see. Additionally, the sparks would likely draw the attention of other superiors, furthering this resolution.

Stats: Stamina: 8 | Strength: 7| Evasion: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | Accuracy: 7 | Arc Power: 3
Abilities: Evasive | Evasive Deux

Marion clasped her arms around Pierre's waist, her hands locking her opposite wrist as she pulled herself tightly into him and they ascended. She was like a frozen bouquet. The scent of her hair had hints of juniper. Her dress, lavender. Her skin, roses. He would feel the icy chill of his passenger. His broom hardly burdened by the girl who had a grip like ice. She would not understand the words that the Gryffindor shouted at Thomas, she was not as talented as these prodigal youths. One language, not several.

She said nothing, Thomas was like the spirit of passover and she was hidden on the other side of a threshold he would not open on this day. Not that it would make a difference, she would always be afraid. It was not death that she feared, not really. It was the pain. It made no difference if the pain came at his hand or... Pierre's. The pain that she knew would come. The instinct, the impulse she knew well that she should avoid these ends but desperation and trust can lead even the most saine to do something truly mad. She would have to fight back even if she was frail. Even if she lacked claws. She just needed to be seen. She needed to fall.

Vladimir would be enough.

Thomas was as subtle as a motorcycle crash. One of the only things she could appreciate about the brash, dangerous snake. "Just leave me alone!" she shouted. Thomas was already leaving, this was merely an excuse to draw more eyes. She would pay no heed to where he went.

Then it was just the two of them.

”Um... the boy... you said he killed someone. I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to... but, maybe it would help you feel less guilty. It seems to be something that you worry about a lot. You can tell me anything, if you want, of course. I won’t tell a soul.”

"That's a lie," she whispered into his ear, "my secrets will never be safe."

”I just want to make you happy. That’s all I want of anything I do... to make people happy, despite my explosion just then...”

Her breath was as cold as her form, like a winter gale. The scent... roses also. How strange.

Pierre's attention diverted. The scuffle below, a pair of girls and a... doll? Presuming she saw it. Vladimir at the heart of conflict, he became a target by the virtue of the fact that he was present. It was a truth that they had all accepted.

”Now what do you think is the cause of another fight here in peaceful Hogwarts?”

"At least this time it is not only about Potter," she would coo. He would feel her tremble, she was not without fear. It was not the fall, it was the landing. Her grip would loosen. She would unclasp her own wrists from her grip. Scream. Then fall.

Action: Fall.

The girl was more durable than some young men he had previously encountered. He would feel his knuckles connect, his skin start to split as the girl was hit hard. He was not about to feint his blows because his assailant was a girl, call it a lack of chivilry if one must but as far as he was concerned this was merely self-defense. She started it, much like that Slytherin had and in their warped sense of reality they thought what? That they were somehow justified? That their would be no consquence? That he would allow himself to be victimized yet again.

"So, that's... what you've learned... in the little fight club of yours, Vladimir? ... How to hit girls?"

"Tch," he made a nhoie with the tip of his tongue. She was still conscious, damn bloody shame. "Archaic values you only subscribe to when it benefits you I am sure," he observed and then moved on. No confirmation nor denial in her previous allegations.

Of course, she while an immediate threat, she was a secondary concern. He did not check to see if she got up, even if he looked from the corner of his eye in her general direction as his cold eyes scanned the dancefloor. Where was it! He would see it, the monstrosity, the clothen homonculus. Fire! He would cry out, an instruction that his peers could easily comply with,their propensity to light anything or anyone ablaze was their forte. He could have just let it go, ignored it and let it run amuck and a part of his would regret this uncharacteristic act of heroism.

It was a part of his plan. Well, sort of.

Time for a diversion if the masters of that doll wanted to fight the wrong person.

It was her, Xailah's, fault! His enemy did not deserve his mercy and those that stood against him were, at least for the moment she was collateral damage. Selim, his unexpected ally could cast a word of power, a spell he would not cast -- Incendio.

A wave ofheat should render the doll ash, the writhing creature within could easily be crushed under heel. Of course even a brilliant youth such as Athanatos could make a mistake, one which Xailah would catch. Sadly for her, that would be all that she would learn of him. She also made a fatally wrong presumption about him. He would not cast a spell, he would never even draw his wand. Not in front of these witnesses. Not even when he declared it the best course of action. Why: because it would be turned on him. He would be blamed. So, use his hands. Act like a pathetic muggle, resist the draw of power and the ease in which he could cast the cure.

Of course, he won. Or so he thought until he looked up and he saw Marion. He simply froze, a chill ran through him and his eyes opened wide. What in the nine hells did she think she was doing up there with HIM! "Mary, get away from him!" He bellowed towards the sky. It was not meant to be this way! Not again. This helpless sense would wash over him, was she taken or did she climb? No, no answers. Stop thinking, start doing.

This grating sense between his ears was deafening. He looked away from the doll, from the disaster that Selim might wreck. From whatever foolhardy attack the girls might devise. There was not enough time, enough time to do anything besides watch her fall.

Action: If anything escaped from the doll. Crush it with his foot.

"I don't talk to the Fox anymore, Ryan!"

The boy hissed. Apparently they had broken-up. How sad.

"He's avoided me since the last half of my first year! So apologies, but I can't give him anything for you."

He drew his wand.

"I doubt he cares about me anymore anyways."

He claimed adding to his personal pity party. She did not believe him, or perhaps she did not care. He was a lightning rod for her malcontent. She was not going to detour from her path because she could feel it in her bones. It was this silent throbbing sense. "I suppose that we will both find out soon enough," she declared.

She was going to attempt to fell the boy. Well, she was about to when @Kyle DeRook showed up alongside her. She did not even hear him coming, she did not know he had sprung back to life.

"Alright so who we targeting next. Another Giant? always fun to knock down a tree. Or we want to break a couple smaller annoyances"

She was in the middle of another pummeling. She would gave his a sideways glance as she attempted to hook Selim's jaw with her knuckles and break the boy's jaw. "Just fighting my ex's boyfriend," she grunted as she attempted another swing and hopefully not a partial miss. The boy'd reign of surviving a murder event unscaved was about to end on the floor.

Success or not she would shake out her hand. Her good punching hand had plenty of life still in it but she wanted something else. Something she could not get breaking Selim's bones. Her hand would roughly search for something to her side. Something from Kyle. An arm, a hand, a shirt...

"I only have one target left. Who do you want?"

Action: Hook punch Selim.

Stats
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 10
Strength: 15
Wisdom: 3
Arcane Power: 3
Accuracy: 7

Abilities:
Part Veela:
Alluring 10% chance that an attack against her will target an unintended target.
Scream: N/a
Fearless: Immune to fear effects.
Evasive Maneuvers: 10% auto dodge.

────────────────── ♛ ──────────────────

Interacting With: @Willow Anderson as Everett Brooks • @Jackson Valentine
Mentioning: @Lydia Cooper • Pierre Marchonne • Ruka Burnett-Tan [indirectly] • Evelynn Decipio [indirectly] • Jack Burnett [indirectly]
-Closed to Interactions-
Hex Color: #800000

─────────────────── • ───────────────────

Outfit
Hair
Mask

"Of course, friend." Well, fuck. Rafael hadn’t been expecting that.

Confusion threading its way through his senses and heart suddenly and uncharacteristically heavy within his chest, the young Captain couldn’t withhold the look of tentative amusement that shot across his features in that moment, gaze inquisitive as he focused his eyes into those belonging to his lovely date. Of course, friend – of course, friend. What was that supposed to mean? Was Rafael missing the bigger picture here? Thinking of the passive-aggressive comment alone would be enough to send the young man’s thoughts reeling farther into the deep end, his brow furrowed tightly and lip fastened about his teeth as his gaze searched his dance partner’s for the answer to such a subtle verbal attack. And then, it would hit him, like a 2-ton semi barreling its way down an empty freeway – Rett was miffed over his usage of British slang, wasn’t he? The Captain hadn’t thought much of his loose language at the time – he rarely did, still seeing the words as nouns and verbs rather than ideas and feelings – but perhaps such words had proven to impact the other’s mood negatively. Maybe Rett thought he was insinuating something. Which, in a minor way, served to peeve the Gryffindor – hadn’t the young man made his feelings towards Rett more than obvious? Was he really not getting the point across?

A surge of anger would stir within his chest in that moment, and he would have to take a mental pause to collect his bearings, dismissing the negative emotion to the deepest, darkest recesses of his stomach. Really, he didn’t have an excuse to be upset. After all, he had been the one to curse Rett out upon first meeting him, just like he had been the one to mess with the other’s feelings in the beginning of their strange relationship. Who was he, really, to think so little of words, when he used them every day to build and shatter those around him? Really, he should have been more careful, especially since the one impacted by his recklessness this time was someone he cared about immensely. Perhaps he would have to convince the Ilvermorny student, then, of how he really, truly felt. After all, there was a special place in his heart for Rett Brooks. He would offer the other a charming smile, his hands tightening in the slightest about his dance partner’s waist – it was not in any way a pervasive movement, the shift’s main purpose being to bring comfort to his tired arms and gain the attention of the Ilvermorny student in the simplest way possible. Chewing on his lip in thought, “Damn,” he would murmur with a small smile. His voice, the other would find, was low in volume, his naturally loud and striking tone now soft and pliable, sugar-coated with a sincere sense of affection as he allowed the appreciation he felt for the other to slip out into the open air. Unabridged, unfiltered. “You really didn’t like that, did you?” There was absolutely no indication or insinuation of negative intention in his words. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. You should know by now that,” he breathed in deeply, considering his words, “I don’t give my time to just anyone.” Then, exhaling, “It should really go unsaid that I am honored to share a dance floor with you.” He meant it. God, it sounded so fucking corny, but he meant it. He enjoyed being around Rett, he really did – and he wanted the other to know that. He wouldn’t be on the dance floor right then, being led like a fucking Disney Princess if he didn’t mean what he said. God, Pierre would be laughing his ass off if he saw him now.

He would allow Rett to lead further, albeit still a bit embarrassed that he was the one being led. It would be about then, that he would feel it. A profound sense of courage, the sort he’d been lacking for months on end, the spirit of the lion that had driven his every single move the year before. The mad impulse. He’d been thinking about asking the Ilvermorny student for a while now, even going as far as practicing his proposal in the mirror, taking minutes to hours every night to consider each word carefully as to make sure he sounded as sincere and profound as possible. Even now, possessed by this ethereal sense of courage, he still felt off, as if he were watching himself from afar – however, he knew better to sit on his ass and allow the sudden rush to pass and leave him with his own devices. “In fact,” it slipped out, a little too hurriedly for his taste, “I’d wanted to discuss something with you.” Reeling at his own words, he realized that there was no way in hell he could stop himself now. This was him jumping – how, he had to pray to whatever deity there was that Rett would catch him. “About us…”

It was never that easy, though, was it?

It would be about then, that he would catch his peripheral vision – her luscious red hair was truly unforgettable in the way that it sparkled like a million dollars underneath the light of the ballroom, the silky sheen unlike that of any other woman he’d seen in the entirety of his twelve years of existence. Simply alluring in nature she was, and matched with those bouncy, light vocals of hers, the owner could be nothing more than an angel, the epitome of all that was good and perfect, the one and only star in a sea full of dark and nameless faces. Fuck, this was bad. In the midst of his sudden reverie, he had to visibly shake his head, his eyes scrunching closed as a low, guttural whine escaped his throat. His head was hurting again. Fuck, he inwardly repeated once more, this was bad. He couldn’t dismiss the dense feeling of shame that invaded his thoughts in that moment, attacking his chest and leaking through his pores at the very thought of what he was feeling. Rett – he didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of it. He knew that, and he knew he should stop, shut her out, forget all about her pretty face, he knew, he knew, he knew, goddammit! He knew, which made what he was about to do that much harder. Because no matter how loud he inwardly screamed, how violently he writhed, his mind was a prison, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never, ever be able to shake the shackles that were Lydia fucking Cooper.

His eyes, once trained on Rett, darted about in an air that could only be described as fearful disparity, once a charming smile tightening into a grimace, once loose shoulders now tight in the anticipation of catching the gaze of the lovely veela girl. Searching, he was searching, wasn’t he? She was close, then. The one he’d been avoiding for all these days, she was close, closer than she’d been to him in a long time. It was a notion that absolutely, positively horrified the young child. It would only take a moment to catch those deep, sparkling green eyes – he could never in a million years forget them, forget that look she’d given him in the herbology lab all those months ago. If only the mask she wore could subtract from her unparalleled beauty, perhaps the child would have been able to restrain himself from the absolute utter surge of jealousy that attacked his chest about then. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair –

And then he saw her dance partner.

He could have only been a first year – the Captain’s reason being, he hadn’t once seen the younger in the confines of the second-year dorm, and there was no way in hell the kid was older than him, not with that young physique. But of course, Rafael couldn’t care less whether or not he was a scrawny firsty or a meaty upperclassman. It didn’t fucking matter, when he was gazing into her eyes, his voice almost inaudible as he spoke softly to the Hufflepuff he so errantly loved in secret. The little shit was dipping his girlfriend – no, his friend, that’s all they were, that’s all they’d ever been – in such a manner that the older felt absolutely ill, sick to his stomach, disgusted for letting her out of his sight for a single moment. At least, it was all that the young Captain could register – he never thought rationally when his face was this hot, his fists clenched this hard, his gaze this sharp. He just didn’t. Because by then, he’d already made up his mind about the younger. Fate was a bitch, putting her hideous tendrils in his chest and ripping out everything that tethered him to humanity– his heart, his guts, his fucking common sense.

He knew the rumors, what people said about him behind his back. He’s almost drowned an upperclassman. He’d smacked his co-captain. He’d thrown a glass vial at a Slytherin so hard he caused his victim to faint. Yeah, Rafael had anger issues, it wasn’t exactly a secret. And for a while there, he thought he’d gotten them under control. But now, gazing upon his first year housemate getting good with his girl – your friend, goddamn you, Rafa, your friend – he didn’t know why the deep breaths weren’t working, or why the anger management classes he’d taken over the summer had miraculously faded from his mind.

Perhaps it was because the monster had taken the wheel.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started his advance, his only conscious feeling being the immense headache that was now drilling into his forehead and the sharp sensation of crescent moons digging into the meat of his palms as he stepped forward in sure, careful steps. His gaze, much to his own surprise, had turned a dangerous calm, his gaze bland and focused on the sorry guy he’ caught messing around with his girl. Perhaps the two wouldn’t see him at first, in the way that he calmly approached, scarily silent, no indication of negative intent save for the red tint coloring his ears and the white knuckles attached to the tense fists clutched at his sides. Perhaps they wouldn’t notice until Rafael grasped the collar of the younger’s shirt with an impossibly strong grip, drawing his elbow back and forcing it forward with every ounce of strength he possessed. Or perhaps they did. Rafael didn't really care.

The younger didn’t know him. But he would.

[But seriously, what was with kids named Jack screwing with his love life? He wouldn’t know the other’s name upon initial contact, but he would learn it, sure as hell. And really, he should have seen it by now. Because only a Jack would dip his girl right in front of him without an ounce of shame on his face. Only a Jack.]

─────────Stats & Action─────────

STAM | 10 EVA | 4 STR | 9

WIS | 9 ARC | 2 ACC | 8

────────────────────────────── Interception | When a Quaffle is being passed, users with this ability automatically get a chance to Intercept the quaffle. This does not replace their normal action for the round. This puts the quaffle in your and by extension your teams' possession. Also, if the Quaffle is dropped for any reason, you would automatically (without it taking up an action) attempt another Quafflegrab. At present there would be no mid-round way to drop a quaffle due to the order of operations, however there will be certain effects in future patches that can cause this effect. ──────────────────────────────

Action • Attempting to Punch @ Jackson Valentine

Hogwarts was weird. While its student body seemed to be, as a whole, unusually attractive, they also seemed unusually fond of trying to smash one another's faces in. There was also a girl fighting what looked like a doll, which Alexei had meant to keep an eye on since that seemed outside the normal range of magical weirdness. He was, as usual, distracted by pretty girls.

Eyes flitting around the ballroom at the fights that kept breaking out, he sighed inwardly. As much as he liked to avoid conflict, he was also a man of honor (haha) and he rather worried he might look cowardly and thus give his brothers just one more addition to an ever-growing list to mock him about. Just one more way for him to stand in his family's shadow. He couldn't allow that. Maybe he would break his habit of avoiding physical violence and punch one or two other people. When in Rome, right? He was confident he could punch with a decent amount of damage, and he knew he could take whatever retaliation was directed his way. He had taken more than one unexpected hit over the summer, so an expected one would surely be more tolerable. He glanced back at his company in an effort not to appear preoccupied as he waited for an opportunity to hit someone.

Stamina: 10
Evasion: 9
Strength:13
Wisdom: 4
ArcPower: 4
Accuracy:9

Abilities: Charmer, Statistically Relevant(x2)

Action: Contemplate how weirdly attractive Hogwarts students are, look for anything suspicious, look for someone to pick a fight with

Bolded Text - French | Regular Text - English
Interacting: @Marion Davenport
Mentioning: @Vladimir Athanatos, @Selim Faust, Eugene Monserrac (@Caradoc Browne), @Hjørdis Jensen, Cassanora Browne (@Hugh Lowe)

Vladimir had agreed to the idea of a dance, and Madeleine's brown eyes had lit up beneath her leaf mask as he offered his hand. She took that hand as the bird-masked boy introduced himself. Selim Faust. She did not recognize the name, but she hadn't expected to. It was nice to have another person to claim she had met here at Hogwarts, though, and he seemed very respectable for coming to the aid of a friend. Then he pointed out the doll fight, which captured both Maddie and Vlad's attention.

"I wish I could claim that this was unusual, but sadly I would be a pitiful liar." Vladimir's hand dropped from hers as he continued, "Don't wander off with anyone." Madeleine's head tilted slightly at her date's words, unsure of how to take them. Was it a command? A suggestion? A warning? She was unable to fully process his tone before he was gone, apparently off to deal with the doll situation. Why was there even a doll situation to begin with? The young French girl was so confused.

She turned to look at Selim, wondering if he would follow.

"Miss Nakamura, perhaps you should move to the edges of the crowd, I wouldn't put it past my... 'peers' to go after you due to your 'connection' to Mr. Athanatos. I wouldn't want you being hurt by the ignorance of the other students who see Athanatos as their 'enemy'." His frown was the only visible expression she could make out with the raven mask blocking the rest of his face. "Perhaps stay near some professors...I'm truly sorry your night has been ruined by the drama here at Hogwarts."

Madeleine had no chance to respond to him either before he had already walked away, following after her date. What were they even- Her eyes widened when she noticed there was a burlap sack that they were chasing after. That's what he had meant by a doll? An actual doll? What was going on? She had felt a little indignant at having been left behind to just stand around on her own and "not wander off" with anyone - and she even had half a mind to disappear into the crowd and find a friend to go dance with - but the scene that was unfolding in front of her had trapped her attention.

The autumn-themed girl watched with rapt attention as the chaos unfolded among the group of Hogwarts students. They were attacking the doll and each other. It was utter madness, and although she was trying to follow along, she couldn't comprehend everything that was happening.

Madeleine's eyes very briefly at one point traveled to find her headmaster again (conveniently missing the part where her date punched a girl). There the older gentleman was, still dancing with his blonde-haired date for the evening - but it seemed almost nonsensical for her to get their help on this. She'd get Vladimir in just as much trouble as the rest of them, and it seemed like these Hogwarts students almost wanted conflict. Plus Maddie was realizing she just wanted her best friend to talk to - Cass. Her eyes traveled the rest of the ballroom in search of her, but she was still unable to locate her with just a glance. So, Maddie took a step away from the conflict and towards the crowd of dancers, intending to go find her best friend, but it was a familiar shout that stopped her.

"Mary, get away from him!"

Vladimir's voice rang out over the chaos, at least for Madeleine, who had heard that exact phrasing directed at herself not long ago. When a very tall boy had tried to take her hand and offer a dance, Vladimir had warned the boy away. Now he seemed to be shouting a similar warning to a girl in the sky. Madeleine's eyes traveled up and saw the exact moment that the blonde girl began to fall. She did not think - she merely reacted, as her wand unsheathed from its spot in her dress and was aimed to the floor below.

"Spongify!" she said, perhaps far too loudly in her panic. Her wand movement was accurate and graceful, nothing less than what she was taught. While she had hesitated plenty to join in the fray of Hogwarts students - a violent encounter that she wanted nothing to do with - the decision and instinct to try to help a girl who was falling came instantly.

TL;DR: Frozen in shock by the scene with the doll, in disbelief at the chaos that is Hogwarts, then casting Spongify at the floor beneath Marion Davenport (if possible)
Stats: Stamina: 5 | Evasion: 10 | Strength: 4 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 7
Ability: Charmer

@Rafael D'Spacito @Lydia Cooper

"I don't think you have a forgettable face."

He giggled girlishly again. It appeared that though the pleasantries were over and goodbyes were being said, he failed to notice that he was still holding Lydia; And a bit off of the ground no less. His grin settled onto his full, smooth lips just after he'd licked them. His grey gaze narrowed as he looked down into her own. A few folks seemed to grow concerned with their proximity and lack of motion. Their little display was undoubtedly over, and the crowds began resuming with their night as the two seemed to be having an intimate moment in which most others felt compelled to give them their privacy.

He didn't know what it was that alerted him of the sudden disturbance in the atmosphere, but the energy Rafael gave off was as potent as it was deadly. Valentine's eyes grew wide with mild confusion as he moved to relinquish her safely. His arms extended, careful not to just drop her. His hand on her waist let go first as she undoubtedly stepped down to the floor below. As the touch of their hands lingered, he turned to view the parting of the crowd with the corner of his eye as something tall and powerful made its way directly toward them.

Jealous boyfriend? It was the first thing that came to mind, but he considered equally the possibility that whoever was coming toward them was here for the girl he was dancing with, just as likely as it was that they were coming for himself. He regarded the older boy coolly, automatically taking up a place next to Lydia, and slightly in front. What he hadn't expected was the speed and ferocity of Rafael's response.

There was no time nor space for a more civil conversation. He was so close that Valentine could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. That, and the blurred ripple of a muscular forearm thrust toward his jugular. If the dance floor were any more crowded, he probably wouldn't have been able to escape the older boy's initial grapple for his collar. Likewise, if the dance floor had been any more crowded, Rafael probably wouldn't have been able to reach them in the first place.

Stepping back into the empty space behind him, the young Gryffindor attempted to back away as soon as he realized what was happening. He tightly gripped his gorgeous companion's forearm, body checking her away from the murderous eyes of the Thunderbird.