Closed Bad Things Come to Those Who Wait Castelobruxo Arrival

Polyjuiced as:


They say: in time all things would be revealed. There was no response (post) from the girl "Marion" had reached out to, she was probably fine anyways. Drama queens like the rest of these teens. They all looked for the same thing, to be 'saved' by some prince, to fight some indignity that was more a misplaced insult against their fragile ego. As self-serving as they were, their blinders to the events would give them a clear and obvious path as they scrambled about the roadway. So ignored by Sabrina Ortega (@Valarie Song), she would move on to the others.

Minimal interaction, ingratiation. They were just going to be their means of a seamless ingress. From there they could do as they pleased, Hogwarts was frustratingly difficult to enter with the Hogwarts Express limited to the beginning and end of the school year as well as the start and end of major holidays. The students had their day passes and forged permission slips to enter Hogsmeade on the weekend, but what came out needed to come back in unless they were willing and able to do what needed to be done to offer a replacement.

Mary was a happy mistake, they were supposed to meet someone else. Well, several someones. Clark Baird was not the first Hogwarts student they had played their games with. They still believed in coincidences, that he was more than a puppet dangling on some sort of string. The only thing that was miserable at this very moment were these god-awful wedges and the garments that cinched and lifted assets that they had no rapture in having.

The lightshow that had spooked the thestrals and caused this minor moment of chaos was intended to be short-lived, just loud. Enough to instill chaos, prevent the right questions to be asked in the midst of a bevvy of distractions. He was playing finally to his family's strengths rather than the strengths he thought he should have. So she would find another 'loud' one, Agata Rios Matos (@Beatrice Langstreth) as the writer's attempt to focus on a non-staff account seemed to be ill-conceived.

She was loud and well placed, stumbling through all that smoke that created an alleged haze that made it hard for her to see. Always best to pick the most vulnerable. A length of chestnut that appeared hornbeam wood would find its way into their hand and it would be pointed in the poor girl's direction. A chilly enough hour, a blast of water would be misery enough. "Aguamenti!" They shrieked in a feigned panic as they swished their wand to cast the water-making charm and sent a jet of water in the girl's direction. [Her choice if it hits] Then ran with a bit of an exaggerated limp towards the girl soaked or otherwise, playing dumb "did I put it out?" Not that there was anything to put out but who was paying attention when they lost their wands and were getting trapped under luggage.

If the girl was hurt, knocked back or even out, it was all the better. The point was again to divert attention. Attention to them, be them cold and miserable, offended by the near hit, or even injured by being thrown from the wagon, assailed by errant luggage and now knocked back by a stream of water and an unfortunate rock that their head might have met on its way to the earth. That was the point of isolating a school where most of them failed to speak English and those that did only had a rudimentary grip. Thank Merlin for language barriers and confusion.

Agatha Rios Matos (@Beatrice Langstreth) was doing her best impression of a turtle rolled over onto its back underneath a mass of luggage. Raul's Brazilian sundries likely accounting for a majority of the mass, lowering himself to the economical odds and ends offered in the Scottish countryside was likely too great an ask. A minor bump to the back of her head, some scrapes and already forming bruises would be the least of her injuries perhaps as she sat herself upright and searched for her missing wand. There were a great many things she could do without, even if begrudgingly, but the absence of her wand was a non-option.

It had to have been flung somewhere nearby, all of the luggage had found its way on top of her, why was her wand the exception?

Search for wand roll: (DC 15) 5 +7 = 12

It would seem so, defying physics and playing an inconvenient, impromptu game of hide and seek, she would search the uncut grass and find sticks and stones, but no wand. Vulnerable and searching in the midst of a smoky haze, she would hear a feminine voice cry "Aguamenti!" A blast of icy water would be shot at her, powerful enough to knock most back.

Vladimir-Marion casts Augmenti at Agatha

Attack: 4 + 15 = 19
Evasion: 12 + 7 = 19

If it hit or miss, truly up to Agatha's writer, she would still likely at least feel the spray from a narrow miss and the ultimate chill that would follow. if particularly unfortunate, soaked and knocked back on the same rock that left that knot in the back of her head. Far from a lethal injury either way, but the promise of something unpleasant.

Regardless Marion Davenport (@Vladimir Athanatos) would scamper towards her, mentioning something about putting it out. not that there was anything to put out, only insert via the power of suggestion. A delusion, a false memory conceived without magic but rather psychological trickery. A helping hand until some adults approached.

Apparently no adult other than Solomon considering the posters in the thread were headed their way in response to the smoke and the light and the noise. The long, curved path from the front gates to main street in Hogsmeade was not that long of a journey. A short enough of a trip that the children walk it on the regular throughout the school year, even during inclimate conditions. He would arrive in range of the chaos, the scattered luggage still a hundred yards ahead, a team of spooked thestrals passed him on the road, the wagon clamoring behind them. An axel would break and the wheel would break away, part of the carriage cracking against the ground. He made no move to stop the beasts of burden, they would find their way to the grounds, to familiar ad 'safe' pastures, it was the kids and what he had erroneously perhaps come to conclude, victims of another act of terror that concerned him.

Relief would wash over him when he saw that their greatest peril was the damages to their dignity, attire and luggage. "Merlin, get on the roads," Solomon would shout as he moved towards them with a brisk pace and armor clamoring loudly as he made his approach. "Is this everyone?"

Observation roll (DC 15 | 20 | 25): + 9 = 11 = 20

He would make note of two things in particular, an errant wand (save Agatha another roll) and that there was something odd in the ground in the grass - dark box that was not empty less some burn marks and the linger scent of gunpowder. The third thing of note would remain unobserved as he reached down and picked up (so she can find it without a roll), Agatha's wand. "Is anyone hurt?" A dumb question perhaps but he was not asking about bumps and bruises to ego's and knees, rather the sort of injury that might require a mediwitch.

There was a girl in need of help, thankfully there was a gallant young man rescuing the damsel. First impressions sometimes the only impression, Raul was a 'good boy.' Obviously he had never seen the lad before and thanks to a language barrier had no idea what the teen had to say. At the very least he was certain that the girl, the unfortunate Money Navarro Gallay (@June Selwyn).

Monet was looking for her wand also, something about accidents and wands going wilder than Catholic school girls at college freshman mixers.

Monet looks for wand (DC 15): 14 + 4

She would find it, her wand was underneath her actually. Pushed into the pliable earth, he would find it fortunate that her wand did not break. it was likely the superior wandmaking skills of her people that could be credited with the wand's durability.

Languages: Spanish - #e62719 English - #195ee6

Finding her wand seemed an insurmountable task. It didn't help when she was doused in water either! Agata had been mostly peering for her wand, cursing under her breath at her rotten luck and the stupid things apparent ease for being flung to the ends of the earth. She hadn't been paying attention, especially not for what felt like a rivers worth of water to come blasting into her! She felt herself being pushed back, landing unceremoniously into the ground. Whack! Pain bloomed at the back of her head again, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. That had hurt. She raised a hand to the back of her skull, hoping to not see blood. She didn't have a wand or the skills right now to fix it.

Wheezing as she lay on the ground, she slowly moved her head around, her brow scrunched in pain and anger, looking for a culprit. She wouldn't put it past one a Hogwartian to do this but they were all in bed. It was too late at night for them to be out. Or not, as just that, what looked to be a Hogwarts inhabitant shrieked and run to her. Agatas anger faded into frustration. "did I put it out?" she'd asked. Agata scowled at the girl, looking her up and down, renewed pain blossoming at the movement. Who in all that was holy was this girl? High heels? Who wore high heels on uneven terrain in Scotland? This girl needed to get out of the castle more and into the dirt. Maybe this is her trying. An idiotic way of trying but Agata couldn't fault her for being good with spells. The girl seemed concerned and because she'd helped Agata, the Peruvian decided it wouldn't be worth throwing this girl into a ditch. A fiery response was all she could muster in response when she was literally dripping head to toe sitting on the wet and muddy ground. Agata could feel the cold now seeping into her clothes and bones. "No. You got me, you idiot! What in the hell were you aiming for?"

Taking some time to wring out her clothes and letting her head pain dull slightly, she nodded her head towards the girl unceremoniously, her icy predicament somewhat cooling her. "Thank you. For whatever it you saved me from." Pushing herself up and off the muddy ground, she introduced herself. "I'm Agata Ríos Matos." Her English wasn't perfect, but Agata elected to use it. Spanish, she thought, would have no use with this European. Swivelling her head, she tried to look for what the older girl was trying to hit. When she found nothing but dirt and leaves, she scowled and muttered under her breath, "Is she stupid or just blind? Hitting me like some first year with no aim."

Deciding she'd wrung as much icy water as she could from her clothing, Agata looked about trying to find their position towards the castle. Her head pounded and she couldn't really make sense of any direction, let alone the one needed towards the British school. If they found a road that would be helpful. The both of them would be able to walk it up to the castle. Surely others would have come to the same conclusion? It seemed logical. The girl would know surely. She'd come from there. "Do you know where the road is?" Agata asked. The darkness was ever pervading and Agata wanted to see someone she knew. "We can walk it up to the castle. Get help for the rest of my school."

Action: Getting sprayed by water and searching for the road.

Languages: Portuguese & English

Raul snorted as the mudblood thanked him, he didn’t see much need to acknowledge her gratitude beyond that point. Instead, his eyes darted from side to side, trying to make sense of the chaos that had befallen them. How could Hogwarts have allowed this to happen? It was exceptionally unprofessional, unacceptable, not to mention unbelievable.

He said as much to the girl, what with there being no better options for people to speak with at present, “This is unbelievable. To think that a so-called one of the great schools would have such pisspoor security…”

It was as Monet looked for her wand, with success, it would seem that the Headmaster of the worst school east of the Atlantic would make his appearance. Rau did not know him by name, but he recognised the face, one that had adorned the newspapers his parents read. A blood-traitor and an adulterer if the journalists were to be believed, and Raul did indeed believe the journalists. On any other occasion, he’d likely be prone to avoiding the Englishman, but considering the lack of other options, the sole adult would have to do.

“Come now,” Raul would attempt to hoist Monet to her feet, taking some of her weight on to his shoulders temporarily, “We don’t have time to be fucking around in the mud and the fire.”

Raul’s focus did not fall on Agata ore the peculiar older foreigner, not when he was looking at the headmaster and his eyeline. A box. A strange one at that. What on Earth could draw the older man’s attention to the box?

Raul’s curiosity was piqued.

“I cannot speak English, go and talk to the Headmaster, find out what we are to do,” Raul mumbled something to himself, then added, “Distract him. I see something. Something our school should have.”

Then he left Monet, his attention on that strange black box. He’d be taking that, thank you very much.

Gimme that box! @June Selwyn, @Solomon Lear & @Beatrice Langstreth

The time of that entire evening had passed rather quickly for Boe, luckily enough. Seeing his peers suffer with their boredom and indignation, the boy took a bit of sick pleasure. Even Raul's annoyance was a tasty morsel that fed his brother's sadism. But, with his pet, Monet, at his side to do his bidding, he was left wanting for little else. Gregorio always thought himself akin to royalty, so why shouldn't he be treated as such? However, hours of reveling in the other's torment were hard work, and even a young king was required to rest. Heavy eyelids were quickly brought to Boe's mind as South Americans were ushered into the wizard equivalent of a peasant mobile.

Like the gates to a castle, his eyes finally closed when he had finally settled into the uncomfortable and, by his description, gōsh interior of the carriage. Blooming visions flashed behind his eyelids as his dream escaped the confines of a lucid waking world. Events of the past day intertwined with images of himself stately sitting atop a gilded throne flashed through his head. Such pleasant dreams should never have to end, but reality never seemed so kind.

With royal regalia and golden scepter in hand, Boe's throne room erupted into flame as he was thrust from his delusion and back into the realm of the fact. The boy would have been fuming if it weren't for the fact that when his eyelids fluttered open, there was no solid ground to hold his frame. Likewise, the sensation of flying would have been pleasant if it weren't for what followed. But, unfortunately, a one-way ticket with hard dirt is what Boe had in store, and once again, he joined the world of dreams. His limp body rolled into a nearby thicket until moments had passed, or Boe had assumed. He could have been out cold for hours for all he knew.

The boy's force of body was just as strong as his resilience of mind, luckily enough. No concussion nor scrapes or bruises would keep him down for long. Pressing himself up from the ground, Boe would groggily shout out, "Raul! Monet! You're not dead, are you?!" In the face of tragedy, mincing words made no sense. So the customary eloquence of his words was set aside for blunt practicality. As he swatted the brush aside and forced himself to make an entrance, Boe's sharp eyes scanned around for any signs of actual casualties. As much as he loathes to admit it, the pseudo-prince didn't want his peers to end up dead. Who would worship him after? "If one of you is at fault for this, there will be consequences." The threat wasn't direct to anybody in particular, but there was still fact lacing his words. Now with wand in hand, the boy strutted into the open of the shoddily flattened road, once again searching for his brother and lackey.

Finally making an entrance not befit for royalty. @Nicholas McCowan & @June Selwyn; Open to any interactions (If you are brave enough)

Monet let Raul help her up, slinging her arm around his shoulders as the two stood. His eyes were focused on something, someone. She followed his gaze to, the headmaster? She shrugged herself off the insufferable boy, confusion dancing across her expression. Maybe Raul really wasn't as terrible as she'd thought.

Probably not.

She nodded, too grateful to have a task to do to help ground her than to snap at Raul for ordering her around. Something their school should have... She'd be following up on that later, that's for certain.

Her head snapped as she heard a familiar friendly voice. "Boe!" She shouted as she hastily made her way over to the fourth-year, stepping over clothes and pieces of carriage strewn about the path. She let out a sigh of relief once she stood next to him. "I'm not dead, Raul is over there," she nodded in the direction of the other Mirales Correa, not wanting to draw too much attention to him (after all, he had just asked for a distraction). She gave Boe a once-over, checking for obvious lacerations or gushing of blood (she's a teenager, alright? She's dramatic) "Are you alright? You look okay. Your limbs are still intact, that's good."

Satisfied that he wasn't in danger of imminent death by injury, she stood upright, quickly surveying the scene. She didn't immediately notice anyone missing, but then again Monet was not exactly the most attentive to her peers. She'd call out to the English headmaster's question, "I think so!"

Wand in hand, adrenaline slowly starting to wear off, Monet turned back to Boe. "Your brother suggested I go talk to the headmaster but... You're much better at conversation with adults than I am." No matter what the Brazilian's response was, Monet would follow him unless told otherwise. After all, she did feel more at ease around him, a sense of belonging that brought more calm to her than the presence of any armor-clad adult.

Action: Reuniting with Boe
@Nicholas McCowan & @Jack Warren

Reducio

Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 10 | Wisdom: 4 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 9

Broken Broomshaft | Lovely Creature