Closed spectator HUFFLEPUFF vs. SLYTHERIN - WINTER 2024

Forget the Super Bowl, Finley never really was able to keep up with American football anyways.

No, the true thrill came from teenagers speeding through the sky, wearing limited protective gear, throwing rocks at each other’s heads and being set ablaze by fire breathing chickens.

Finley had attended a few broom races, mostly drawn to the more traditional game of quidditch, but something in the air today prompted her to this sport in particular. That and Farron was busy working today, so they had to postpone their plans. No biggie.

She scooted her way through the crowd of students, a small pack slung over her shoulder filled with her Gryffindor scarf, pennant flag and bullhorn. House pride still ran strong in her all these years later.

For now, she set her pack at her feet, ready to watch this first race and don her perhaps slightly obnoxious apparel later. The crowd was excited, tensions were high, and the track was already (mostly) a whirlwind of activity.

Although considering the race had hardly begun, there was already a lot of noise coming from the stands already…

Settling in for watching SPORTS! And starting to get curious about the racket a few rows back… *cough cough* @Finnegan Conner and @Ulysses Drake

F I N N E G A Nx⳧xC O N N O R

☙ Hufflepuff vs Slytherin, 11th of February 2024 ❧

Ulysses' punch hit like a wrecking ball. Finnegan stumbled, temporarily blinded, feet tripping over each other, both hands clutching his face, almost dropping his wand. He cried out in pain, staggered backwards, hissed and sputtered like a cat that had it's tail stepped on. A dull, faint buzzing numbness spread like an inkstain across one half of his face while the other tried to process what had happened. One moment, the Slytherin twat had been at the railing, doubling over, recovering from the knockback jinx. The next moment the boy's fist had come flying at him, sudden and inescapable.

Blood, thick and hot and sticky seeped between his trembling fingers. A pitter-patter at first, but soon a slow, steady stream, out of his flaring nostrils, down his flushed cheeks, past his chin and staining the snow-covered stands. The boy had no right to be able to hit like a sledgehammer. Sure, he'd seemed strong for his age, but he was a first year for crying out loud! He was supposed to be Itty-bitty, supposed to be wowed by all that Hogwarts had to offer, not to be out for blood! For a wink, Finnegan simply stared at his bloodred hands, too dazed and shocked to act consciously, though his legs had carried him a little ways back up the stands.

He barely registered Ulysses's latest sneer. The boy's game plan was clear and he had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could hit hard and true. And yet, for the briefest of moments, Finnegan regarded him with perfect clarity. He aimed. He waved his wand. He bellowed.

"Incendio!"

His wand work left to be desired, his incantation was slurred and nasally, but the effect seemed strangely improved by it. A bright burst of raging flames shot straight at Ulysses's expensive clothes, blue and red tongues lurching forward like striking serpents, the roar of flames loud enough to temporarily drown out any immediate bystanders. Revenge was best served scorchingly hot.

I think Ulysses is pretty lit.

the rat and the hound u l y s s e s —d r a k e . ——— [ H P : 0 0 1 / 9 0 0 ]———— date. [ 02/11/23 ]—— word count. [ 297 ] ———

	It was pure animalistic rage that kept him moving through the pain of being folded over in half and blasted in the chest by some errant magic. He wasn’t any better but he could tell that Finn’s control of his magic was rudimentary at best. With a moment of clarity, Uly clenched his fists tight and assaulted the other boy without hesitation or remorse. Fist to flesh, Uly hadn’t realized the joy he felt in pummeling Finnegan’s stupid face after being casted on. White, hot knuckles and a blood rage kept him putting the pressure against the second year until the Muggle found a second between the rhythm to cast and immediately set Ulysses ablaze, the flickered tongues licked at his form as his jacket caught ablaze first before his entire outfit was taken by the flame. At first, his rage and anger kept him standing from the scorching pain as Ulysses quickly spun in sheer terror to toss his clothes lit off of his body to keep himself from burning alive. There was a moment where the heat felt nice as it singed the threads of his clothes and finally reached skin and Ulysses howled in immense pain. Is this how dragons felt when hatching? Was this a rebirth of a most terrifying creature or would he fall and rise like a phoenix. Only time would tell but for now, Uly’s body collapsed to the floor unconscious from the smoke without any clothes on, gray ash falling with the snow as the tiff obnoxious and loud settled itself back down into a quiet hum. The Halfblood with his crafty wandwork may have won the battle, but perhaps at what cost? Who knew what lengths a boy unhinged and riddled with vengeance would take to get even. ulysses drake has fallen unconscious.

mentions. @Finnegan Conner

notes. thru the fire and flames

· · ─▪───────────── ·· ─────────────▪─ · ·

• REPRESENT, SLYTHERIN REPRESENT •

“What stands in the way becomes the way forward.”

─▪────────────────────────▪─

11th Feb | Quidditch
Avery's Hex #136b5c

─▪──────────────▪─

┏		┓
	----- And they were off. The horse had bolted from its gate. The race had begun a while ago, but his interest found itself surrounding the younger Slytherin student who was, rightly or wrongly, challenging the mudblood. Oh how Avery had wished this to be the moment he grasped the strings of revenge, pulled them to heel and sent Finn flying from the stand with an ambushed blast. It would surely break bones from this height, or worse, and it crossed his mind for that reason alone. How he would relish in his pound of flesh going over and beyond the recompense that one would expect, but it couldn’t be done like this. Not here, not now. It escalated faster than he could keep up, but what could he expect from the fiery-souled Gryffindor, whose misplaced pride of blood was seemingly his weakness. The younger, darker haired Slytherin surely wasn’t to know that Finn would assail him with a reactive spell, seeking to blast him. Avery pursed his lips, and his dark expression betrayed that he was restraining something deep within him as he pushed past students; parting the sea as he advanced with pace and ireful interdiction held in every facet of his countenance. Something was holding him back. When he finally arrived close to the scene, Uly had already twatted the mudblood in the mouth and first blood had been drawn. Merlin’s beard, Ulysses could hit hard. was the thought he was only part-way through thinking before Finnegan brandished his wand again and a jet of flames engulfed the underclassman in violent, roiling flames. The harrowing cries and acrid stench of singed skin filled the senses, enough to drive most to action for want of glory and heroism. Avery was not that kind of person. He had instinctively brandished his unruly chestnut wand and willed it to bend to his desire, called out an incantation with urgency as he knelt beside the his pureblooded acquaintance. “Extinguo!” He cast, forcing the arcane magics to begin absorbing or dampening the effects of the flames that had seared Ulysses so viciously. After dropping his wand to the floor, he rushed to take off the coat that he was using to protect himself from the cold, the gesture designed to protect Ulysses’ decency as he shot a warning glower to Finn. Oddly, no words left his lips addressed to the boy, and in that moment he hoped that even if Finn hadn’t understood that this was over by way of Uly’s embarrassing defeat, that it was over now, now that he was involved. wc: 437
┗		┛

Avery casts Extinguo on Ulysses, to smother the flames as he so desired to smother Finn.

Interacting with @Finnegan Conner & @Ulysses Drake

open to interactions with people astra knows ic. all others please owl

Another weekend, another sporting event. Astra was in her room, getting ready to go out in the cold and cheer on her house team, Colin and June and Vale and whoever else was on that she didn't know or hadn't met. Great fun. She pulled on a green hoodie over her t-shirt and then a coat. A black knit cap kept her head warm and she wore her hiking boots instead of her usual sneakers. It was rather hot in the common room, but she was thankful for her preparations once she reached the cold and wintery outdoors.

She arrived at the very start of the race but didn't take a seat, seeing as this was quite literally the very start and she didn't want to miss the racer's actions. it was a good start for Slytherin, even with Vale having a bit of trouble at the waterfall.

She glanced around for a spot and noticed three familiar faces in one hell of an altercation. Finn, wasn't it? The boy from the broom race. 21 galleons to take him out. The dungeon debacle, too. Then one Ulysses Drake, literally aflame, before one Avery Leveret stepped in.

Astra calmly made her way over, tapping her wand to be sure it was still in her pocket. As she drew closer to the boys, the stench of burned skin reached her nose and she winced. Oh, Ulysses. That was going to hurt like literal hell.

She took a seat a couple rows up from the brawlers. "Overdramatic, are we?" the Slytherin drawled with a lazy ease to her posture and expression. The statement was directed at Finn, made evident since she was looking right at him.

@Finnegan Conner ∆ @Ulysses Drake ∆ @Avery Leveret

Like ripples on a pond, murmurs began to travel through the crowd. Something was happening, that was certain. Finley didn't pay it much mind until she picked up on the word "fight" being whispered by a Hufflepuff sitting next to her. Oh boy.

Fin leaned back, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Oi! What's going on over there, boys?" It would probably cool off soon, right? Just a nice reminder that people could see them. Besides, sports tended to set people on edge, but shouting matches weren't exactly a reason to intervene. As long as it stayed a shouting match.

And then one of them threw a punch. "Jesus, they never stop, do they," she muttered to herself as she stood. "Alright, coming through, everyone move." Fin pushed through the throng of onlookers, who eagerly craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

"Incendio!"

"Shit," the caretaker swore under her breath, now leaping over benches to get there faster. Didn't these kids know they were surrounded by wood and flammable fabrics?

As she reached the scene, the one who assaulted the other had fallen to the floor, flames lapping at his clothes. A bystander (he was a prefect at one point, wasn't he?) quenched the fire with precise spellcasting, thank god. Finley, now staring down the fire-slinging troublemaker, addressed the group at large. "Someone start talking. What the hell is this? Decided the race wasn't interesting enough for you?"

Looking for answers. Note to Finnegan and Ulysees, Finley has caught you breaking IC rules. Good luck trying to get out of a detention.

F I N N E G A Nx⳧xC O N N O R

☙ Hufflepuff vs Slytherin, 11th of February 2024 ❧

Finnegan watched in grim satisfaction as fire engulfed Ulysses Drake. Insatiable tongues clawed at the boy's clothes, burning holes into the fabric, licking and peeling at the skin underneath. The boy screamed, frantically threw off his clothes, but Finnegan remained still. He'd never before managed to cast with such accuracy, had never seen the true power locked within that little lump of wood in his hand.

Finnegan squinted against the blistering heat, blood dried on his chapped lips. While he regarded the writhing shadow of Ulysses' undressed form, a singular word appeared in his mind, the very thing Ulysses had called him; a word that had haunted him before he had ever set foot on platform nine-and-three-quarters.

Idiot.

But who was the idiot now? It was not Ulysses Drake who's sloughing skin flaked like fresh snowfall, it was the very embodiment of all who had ever questioned him which now burned like an effigy before him. That's what you got for thinking him some weak, mousey thing you could pester without consequence.

A blur of motion registered at the very edge of his mind. The shadow of a tall, dark-haired boy rushed past him. Dazed, as if stepping out of a trance, he lowered his wand-arm, looked down and caught a glimpse of Ulysses Drake. He had been a handsome boy, strong, well-kempt, prideful. Now he was just a motionless hump of singed flesh, reeking of burned hair and blistered skin.

He'd recognize Leveret's posh voice anywhere, yet now it barely entered his consciousness at all. He neither moved out of the way nor blocked Avery's path when the boy hurriedly doused the flames. Any other day the tell-tale clatter of the boy's wand hitting the groud would have spelled opportunity, but now even that detail was lost on him.

Ulysses' body remained motionless even as Avery covered it in an act of decency. If he'd all but torn his gaze from the horror before him, he might've seen Ms. Greer shouldering her way through the thick of the crowd. Yet his gaze remained fixed on his unmoving victim. By god, what had he done?

All color drained from his face and then a voice, high-pitched and dismissive, careened down the stands. "Overdramatic, are we?"

As though stung by some irritating insect that begged to be swatted, he spun around on his heel, wand finding the culprit before his eyes did. Girl, short, red hair, Slytherin, and an attitude to match. He didn't hesitate. "SHUT UP!" he roared, but it gave no satisfaction. Nothing that compared to what he'd felt just moments ago.

"Mimblewimble!" A perfect purple lance soared up the stands and threaded past all the heads between him and the girl. A flash of purple would be the last thing Astra Norrick's saw before her tongue tied itself into a pretty little knot.

It took him a second to realize the buzz in the immediate crowd wasn't because of his flawless casting and near-perfect aim (he really wished he did half as well in class), but because Ms. Greer had emerged from the crowd, looking downright furious.

"Someone start talking. What the hell is this? Decided the race wasn't interesting enough for you?"

Raw, animalistic instinct took over, the base need to survive overriding any shred of sense. "Fumos!" Once again his wand suprised him, and if Professor Perceval-Phelan had been around to see him now, he would surely have been more than proud at the result. Thick smoke covered the immediate area, providing more than adequate cover from prying eyes.

Except, of course, he couldn't see where he was going either. He lurched forward, clutching his wand, determined to escape. Every step was like the tolling of a heavy, slow bell in his skull, a dull memory of the hard punch Ulysses had managed to land on him.

Dazed, pale, and bloodied he ran.

@Ulysses Drake @Avery Leveret @Finley Greer @Astra Norrick. Astra is mimblewimbled with a critical hit. Fumos has been cast with a critical hit. Finnegan however did not manage to escape Finley. update 16/04/2024: because Finley has left staff and no detention was given, Finnegan has in fact managed to escape.

Continued here
OOC note for moderators:

Reducio

All actions are based on rolls performed in a private server that the characters affected by this spellcasting have access to. The duelling spell list was used as a guideline for these rolls. Furthermore, it has been agreed between Ulysses Drake, Avery Leveret, Finley Greer, Astra Norrick and Finnegan Conner that Finn can perform two spells in this post. Any of the aforementioned characters will be able to independently verify the rolls and subsequent actions upon request.

open to interactions with people astra knows ic. all others please owl

Despite appearances, all hell had not been unleashed with Finnegan's initial casting on the unfortunate Ulysses. Far from it.

Right before Ms. Greer entered the scene, the young lion seemed to snap. All the building tension between boy and world unleashed itself in a roar of two words: shut up. Astra had never been very good at that, especially when directed to do so by another, and a venomous comment sat on her lips.

"That's rich, co- mmf!" And suddenly she could speak no more. With precision and power, Finnegan's cast of mimblewimble flew up. Purple light blinded her as she whipped out her wand, rising to her feet and holding it out to cast-

"Fhlhiphendoh!" It was little use; if the girl had actually used her brain for a millisecond, she would have recognized the spell. Morella had used it on Hyperion once or twice.

Her fist clenched and she took a step forward, fully intending on launching herself at the boy-

Ah. Ms. Greer. Our savior.

The boy seemed frantic, panicked. He covered the area in smoke and dashed away, unseen but not unheard through the thickening fog.

Astra slurred a curse. She raised her wand and opened her mouth to cast but stopped before embarrassing herself further. Again, she cursed, wishing she knew where that dratted boy was.

An idea: perhaps Leveret would be willing to assist her? Moving with extreme care so as not to accidentally step on the Drake boy, she sidled along the stand. With utmost care, she gingerly reached out, grazing Avery's arm with the very tips of her fingers. She tapped him, lightly but insistently, her knotted tongue uncomfortably filling space it should not in her closed mouth.

@Finnegan Conner ∆ @Ulysses Drake ∆ @Avery Leveret