Closed Oh the pits we dig Shark Tent

George Henry was curled beneath his blankets, clad in pajamas which were the closest thing his parents could find to Hufflepuff gear beyond the wizarding world. His billowing pajama pants were spangled with badgers rampant on parade on a backdrop of sickly yellow, one of the many signs that George's disdain for his own house was just a front. After a long, lonely summer, being back among the house of loyal friends would be a relief. Right now, he was in dreamland, riding the Hogwarts express with Jake, and-

"Mister..."

"Hrmmhmghg?" came a prompt response from George, who was quite used to whiny voices waking him up in the middle of the night. He knew this one could not be part of his dream - there was no way Jake would ever call him 'mister' - but all the same, he gave a light smile as he saw Gideon with his stuffed animals clutched in his hands. "Oh... hello, Giddy."

George's wrinkled and faded shirt was so old that the name of the band it had once proudly promoted was now ruined and illegible. Distinctly mud-bloody, though. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, having learned nothing from Gideon's last prank, blinking away the sleepiness as he listened to his little friend. "It's only a bad dream," George assured him, his voice soft to avoid disturbing any of the other campers. At his insistence that he needed the scary things gone, George found his wand underneath his pillow. Without a nightlight, he'd need to do the old lumos trick. "There's nothing scary here, Gideon. It's just us."

Of course, 'just us' was hardly a comfort if you knew who was included in that. Marion was a hag, George had been informed recently. That information had come far too late in the summer, and both he and Dealla had agreed that letting Jack in on the secret was a recipe for disaster. Even not including Marion, the tent had Meenauh and Galton - total weirdos - and Matthias and Winnie, makeout monsters. It also included... Gideon, who was a strange bird himself.

Peering at the tent flap, George furrowed his brow as Gideon suggested blocking the door. There was monsters under the bed, and then there was the sort of monster who busted down the door and tried to kidnap children. "Sure, you can come in," George said, easily swayed. He lifted the blankets up and got up so that Gideon could get comfortable if he wished. "...Get what he finds?"

Truly perplexed, George glanced around the dark of the tent, taking stock of everyone. There was an uneasy silence inside the tent. It took George a moment to place it, but when he did, he suddenly felt wide awake. There was a missing sound: snoring. Jack wasn't here. "Jack?" George said, starting toward the door.

"Lumos," he muttered with a shake of his wand as it lit up dimly. He didn't want to wake up the entire tent if this was a cruel joke by the young Athanatos, but something seemed off enough to warrant proper investigation. Exiting the tent, he held his wand high aloft and followed the sound of Jack tearing into the earth. Bewildered - but blaming eccentricity and impulsiveness, rather than hag curses - George questioned his friend. "Did you find a treasure map or something? It's the middle of the night..."

Once the blanket was lifted, George did not need to give his confirmation twice. Gideon would scurry into the bed with his protective stuffies. They would clank and clamor slightly as he shifted into the bed not meant to host a small party.

Yet Jack's absence concerned George as he adhered to a common horror trope, going outside, in the dark, in their night clothes. George did have a weapon, it was also his flashlight so it would be a one or the other "Shhh.... no no," Gideon's tiny voice pleaded as George did the very opposite of barricading the door. He would uselessly reach out for Henry's nightclothes but the boy would not be able to hold George back if he made even the most minimum of effort.

While George confronted Jack, Gideon was up to something else. With an absence of grace, the boy would tug on George's mattress and attempt to pull it off of the bedframe. He was not talking but there were small noises that would erupt from the boy as he attempted to move something that was far too large for him. With a heave and a tiny grunt, the mattress might move half a meter. So the boy, not particularly industrious but certainly stubborn would simply heave again.

Outside, in the dark of night, Jack warren continued to dig with a fervor and a strength that was perhaps uncommon for a wizarding youth. There was nary a soul wandering these grounds, less the rare insomniac who would pay no heed to the childish eccentricities of a teen that was not theirs. So jack would continue to dig deeper into that pit, that grave-like space he was making in the ground.

The wooden shaft was like silk against his hands, and the metal head of the spade cut through the dirt like a hot knife through flesh. Each shovel full of land hurled over his shoulder was like the sweet sounds of a symphony. The iron ting of the shovel against rocks was the horns, the soft 'shh' of the implement sliding further into the earth, a gentle thrum of the violas. Then, finally, each muffled thud of loose soil, like the thudding of a hand-muted timpani. As the night grew more pungent, each boy's motions grew in time with the crescendo of his symphony. Every labored breath was in time with the roar of the bass drums, and every load of dirt landing was placed perfectly with the plucking of the strings. The boy would only stop for several seconds to hear the demure solo the violins had in store for the concert hall that was his head. But like every good thing, the solo must end, so his pause must also.

Shoeless, shirtless, only wearing black athletic shorts, Jack continued his work feverishly. The blasting din of woodwinds, the tinny ringing of horns, and the deafening bangs of the percussion only egg the boy to work on more laboriously. The boy was athletic but thin. The muscles in his arms strained as he again threw dirt over his shoulder into a growing pile next to his well-worked grave pit. The moon shone down on the boy, only exaggerating his figure. The ridges of his spine were ever so pronounced as they rippled down his back, and the occasional grunts he expelled from his lips were rhythmic.

Any words articulated into the chilled night air fell on deaf ears, for the music was too loud. Anyone with a sense of decorum would never dare speak during the performance of a lifetime, and like a seasoned professional would say, 'the show must go on.' Thankfully, the Concerto had already reached its zenith, and the fall was soon to come. The sheet music would read pianissimo, and the music would slowly grow softer. He was so close. It was almost there. The goal he was digging for was just within grasp. The piece was virtually to rest, and his shovel would hit something solid as the music faded into oblivion.

Glancing up at George Henry, Jack would frown at him. His spade now still and the night deathly still. "Why would you interupt the music, Georgy?" Was the first words to fight their way out of his lips, but the question was not innocent. It was accusatory. George was to blame for the music's disappearance. The look in his eyes as he stared at his best friend was one only of scorn.

@George Henry made the music flee.

Gideon's resistance was useless - George's concern for his friend outweighed any desire for self-preservation. George blinked slowly, his eyes struggling to adjust to the light from his wand. Just barely illuminated in the dark was the shape of his best friend - one of them, at least - covered in dirt. Shoveling away at the earth. The sight was inexplicable. It wasn't like Jack to spend the night doing anything other than drooling into his pillow. If he had lost something - if something had to be dug up - he would have mentioned it...

No, no. No... this made sense. It made perfect, horrible sense, and the look on George's face shifted from confusion to abject horror as his best buddy asked him why he'd made the music stop. Jack did not speak in metaphors, and had no patience for poetry. If he was saying that, he heard music. And the music was coming from in there.

"What are you talking about?" George asked, his chest swelling and falling with each deep breath. He was struggling to keep it measured. One in, one out... it was easier to stay calm when there was someone depending on him. Jake wasn't here, but Gideon was. Gideon was afraid, and George was going to make sure he was safe. "Jack, what are you digging up?"

Still, Jack knew George well enough to see the anxiety on his face. His fingers were feeling over the knobby handle of his wand. Breathing faster. A slight, trembling twitch in his eyebrow. He was afraid. Confronted with his best friend either replaced, controlled, or altered, he could not think of anyone else's name to call for help. Jack was right here, and something was wrong with him.

"Gideon," George said, turning his head partway over his shoulder. His voice held none of its usual softness, no longer concerned with comforting the younger boy. He had cause to be alarmed. "Is Meenauh in the tent? Wake her up, please. Now."

There was no spell he'd been taught that could fix... whatever was wrong with Jack. Years of therapy, or at least a month at St. Mungo's, maybe. But this was no normal mental break - he knew Jack Warren, and he knew the boy's thick skull protected his brain from ever processing trauma like a normal human. He'd learned that after the second fire. Someone must have gotten in. But the dim light of his wand was hardly enough, and he wanted to make sure that if Jack wanted to start a fight with him, he'd have a hard time getting it started.

"Lumos solem," George said, his dimly glowing wand taking on the golden hue of sunlight as he pointed the beam down at his friend. It might have been blinding, but it would do the part of keeping his eyes off of George... and letting George get a look at whatever might have been unearthed. He let out a tremulous breath, barely audible as he spoke. "Go on, then. Go on."

Particularly painful was to not break.

Since day 1... or actually — since she read the list of the tent dwellers, it was clear as sky: she will not fall asleep. Whatever people believed about Marion, whoever the guy with the same surname as Vladimir was — it was just not good to have such a party under one roof. So, Meenauh was keeping herself awake as long as possible and only falling (most of the times unintentionally) asleep once all the noises (apart from Jack) were dead and it was dangerously quiet. As she slept really sensitively, she'd wake up even before it would become dangerous. Good for her to think so. Reality, as usual, had different plans.

So far it was working and no great disasters (apart from the day 1 one) happened, no one died, no one nailed a wooden stake into Marion's chest (or whatever it would take to destroy the poor girl). It seemed to have been going fine. Or simply — calm before the storm. She kept her wand really, really close to her. And trained to grasp it as a first thing upon opening her eyes. This was also making her sort of paranoid in the morning, so she had to talk herself out of it once she was establishing the surroundings were safe and there were also friends there. And then adults around. Also, sleeping less than enough, really dampened her reactions a bit — although she perfectly knew sleeping fewer hours a night was forbidden. Like, really forbidden since she was born. But she slept enough when she was homeschooled, so she could afford.

This night was going smoothly as if she read it in some fiction: middle of the night, noises, waking up just as she trained herself, an upcoming mystery to solve. So, when in the fragile silence of the night, even a whispering mention of her name wouldn't need to wait: eyes flew open, wand firmly grasped, a jump off the bed and she had already found herself in what was considered a common room in their tent.

With the wand out, she wearily slowly walked towards the noise and the light, produced by George's wand, to find the young Athanatos (bad sign), George (better sign) and... shirtless Jack standing in a hole, suspectedly dug out by himself (Jack was a very bad sign).

The first thought:

"Why? There's a spell that does that," was countered by a silent sigh from her inner Slytherin, but at this time the realisation reached her still sleeping brain as her pupils went to the size of the moon.

"What the hell?" was the second one and as no voice objected, she made it audible.

Interacting with @George Henry, @Gideon Athanatos and @Jack Warren

"What the bloody hell, guys?" she asked in an unusual tone and unusual voice, as her danger surge tingled the back of her neck.

OC: I intended to post here significantly sooner, however between a profession change, a death, sickness and hexwizard needs I have been inundated in other responsibilities.






Gideon was a lot of things, among them a coward. While he was uncertain what was wrong with Jack or why he had elected to dig these holes in the middle of the night, the young former Hufflepuff could recognize that there was something very very wrong. He did not share George's concern or perhaps interest in whatever was happening outside in the dewy night, he was more interested in keeping that-Jack, the weird, digging one, outside. The open door, mere flaps of canvas was a pittance of a barrier and instinct screamed that he wanted as much as he could have between himself and Jack Warren.

It was an exercise in futility, the rather small boy that looked like he was too young to be attending Hogwarts, nevermind approaching his second year. He was dragging George's mattress towards the door with all of his (insignificant) might. A tiny heavy and a squeak of exertion, the arduous process of creating a likely mildly annoying barrier was taxing on the youth. Was he going to leave George outside with the obviously unhinged broom racer? You can bet your ass, yes.

"Gideon," George called out to the struggling boy who had not left the tent but rather was attempting to erect a barrier.

"Get away from him," Giddy replied in a harsh whisper that was hardly adorable.

"Is Meenauh in the tent?"

"Who?" He did not pay attention to who he was paired with, he found little interest in the lot of them. He did not even know a Mean-Ah. He would have heard the name likely throughout the summer, if in conversation or if in cordial reminders that it was her turn, time for an activity or an event, or to get her attention. Ah yes, the grumpy lady.

"Wake her up, please. Now."

"I can't!" He could, but there was a difference between can and would but those were semantics that he was not going to be able to debate or review. "I need to--" he grunted uselessly as he struggled to turn George's mattress on its side to block the door, "get this up. It's too heavy!"

"Mean-ah!" He changed his mind, although the girl was already awake for an unknown period of time listening to the dysfunctional interaction that was George Henry and his Jake-proxy.

The graceful flower that Meenauh was, she would make her awareness known in due-time, now. "What the hell?"

Giddy was not the most helpful in this particular scenario as his feet slid against the ground as he was trying to force George's Mattress on its side against the tent opening. She would be 'roused' for a strange reason to say the least -- it was the middle of the night and it was pitch black nearly inside. The faint illumination of moonlight from the open flaps of the tent offered a modicum of respite, the outlines of the beds and the heavy sleepers that occupied them. Marion and Jurgen were of course not present, Pride was sound asleep in his bed snoring away and as for Winnie and Galton, well perhaps they were sound asleep also (cant godmod). "I-I need help!" Gideon sounded panicked, "I can't lift t-this thing!" this thing being a mattress that had been liberated from George's now bare bed. He was crying large, wet tears.

Meanwhile outside there was the more relevant situation, something was going on between George Henry and Jack Warren. Jack as of late had been 'off', a bit more irritable perhaps. it was hard to put a finger on what it was, perhaps just a mood. There was no overt symptoms that there as something wrong and he was in a tent with both friends and foes, so there might be some muddled emotions. There was always an excuse, however what was happening now in the dark of night there was no logical excuse for.

Meenauh would see George light the tip of his wand with the Lumos charm. He was standing at the edge of a hole, a hole that Jack Warren had presumedly dug. it was already rather deep, most of Jack was obfuscated by the earth he had displaced. The was a great pile of loose earth behind them, painting a strange scene for the dueling captain.

George would flood that hole with the bright light of his wand. he had learned the hard way to repair nothing, knowing his luck he would have buried Jack Warren alive. Geroge would see dark earth, a bit of stone but oddly enough something white as well scattered about the bottom of this pit. Small, irregular bits, some round, some oblong, some long...

"Go on, then. Go on." George would say. Words of encouragement? Audible filler?

Jack would dig on, the spade of his shovel crunching through the hard earth. he would hit something heard, there was an audible scrape as the shovel pulled a heaping bounty of not just earth but again something white that he would toss over this shoulder. It would land on the top of the pile and tumble down from the crest of the hill and land next to George's feet.

George was no biologist, not in the least.

But that was a jaw bone.

As if waking up from a deep sleep, the boy blinked only a couple of times before a spotlight began to burn his retinas. Any sense of what the boy was before had disappeared. Any symphony there was had faded into the void. All that was left was a shirtless, irritable, and now blinded boy who was not in the mood for any of his best friend's stupid antics with magic. "Oi, the fuck, mate?!" Growled the boy as he raised his arms to block the beams of painful light that flashed his face. If it were to last longer than a flash, the boy was sure he wouldn't have eyes for much longer. Irritation had increased daily, and Jack's chest was now alight with anger.

Before Jack could continue to criticize his best friend, another voice joined the fray. Mr. Warren didn't even notice the little weasely-looking Gideon, but he couldn't miss Meenauh. "Can't a guy go 'round diggin' holes in peace? Jaysus christ." The exasperation of the boy was evident. Digging was a regular thing, and why were they making such a big deal about it? The silt underfoot shifted awkwardly as the boy continued to move his weight back and forth as he glared, annoyed at his friends questioning his antics.

Jack dropped the spade head-first into the dirt like a man planting a flag into a hill. "Can you just bugger off and let me do my thing." Jack said making sure to make eye contact with George and Meenuah, before heaving another shovelful of dirt over his shoulder, unaware of the treasure just flung over into his pile of dirt.

Getting mad at @George Henry & @Meenauh Silmataurea

George glanced back over his shoulder at Meenauh as she arrived from the tent, letting out a slow breath he did not realize had been held in his chest. The others could see the light from his wand wavering as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, prepared to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. His eyes were torn between Jack, the shovel, and the hole he was digging, occasionally scanning the dark campgrounds for anyone who might be sneaking up on them during the confrontation. One had to be alert for danger from any angle at Hogwarts. If it could come from Jack, then nowhere was safe.

"He's doing- this," George said, with a flick of his wand to indicate the boy under the spotlight. Hearing Gideon struggle with... something, George glanced back and took a step backward toward the tent. He doubted that the little Athanatos was in any danger, though the mewling cry of a Jake-shaped individual was still enough to send him into a spiral of worry. But the danger was out here, and Gideon was in there, and George was right between them, as he ought to be. "Gideon, it's- it's fine, just... go back to bed, okay? Stay under your blanket."

Squinting, George could see specks of white among the stones and dirt in the pit. Whatever - all kinds of debris could be found in the soil, he was sure, whether it was some sort of fossilized squirrel or something. He did not suspect at all that it could be the object of Jack's treasure hunt... until he saw a piece of it fly out and tumble down the dirt-pile. He shifted his wand to point down at his feet, jumping back from the jawbone with a cry of shock.

He leaned down, struggling to identify what had been thrown to him. There was no way. It had to be from some kind of animal - but still, George felt his stomach turn as he saw what was undoubtedly bone flung up from the earth by Jack's shovel.

"I-it's- that's- that's a jaw," George said. A+ in biology. He could think of no counter-charm for whatever was wrong with Jack, and his mind had not yet jumped straight to simply petrifying his friend and being done with it. Instead, he begged, letting Jack dig in darkness for the time being as he illuminated the bone for Meenauh. "Jack, for the love of god, stop digging - that is bone!"

It seemed that the sight of topless Jack Warren digging through dirt in the middle of the night wasn't quite a surprising for some of them. Really, the boys didn't seem like they were paralysed by horror or something. Meenauh was, even though she tried hard to not display it, obviously. George was just stating that Jack was... 'doing this'.

Interacting with @George Henry and @Gideon Athanatos

"Erm... How oft-... oh, nevermind," she started, but she answered herself that in no dimension Hogwarts students dig as a hobby. Jack was weird to Meenauh's standards, but no — not weird enough.

Gideon was trying to diverge Meenauh's attention to something insignificant. A mattress. What the hell, she would think again, but didn't. Her brains weren't working at that moment. As she empty-mindedly raised her wand to levitate the mattress to god knows where, George's intervention returned her to reality in which people could talk, not just cast spells here and there. Gideon was young, but definitely young enough to cast a simple spell instead of trying to lift it up. Whatever.

She returned her full attention to Jack just at the second he in his very much annoyed state spoke. The whole logic of the sentence, the words placed one after another as an attempt to make sense — didn't make sense at all.

Cursed — that was all four voices in her head screaming in unison, their first and final guess.

The sound of Jack's tool changed as it seemed he reached his goal. It didn't matter whether it was intentional or not, or whether he was doing it for the process alone, aimless, to enjoy the moment — it didn't matter. The story was to become much darker than it could have been seen just a few seconds ago. As the white object shot out from the hole, it was successfully identified by the young George Henry as a jaw bone. Meenauh froze in horror. If Marion would float out of the tent right now, turn into a scary monster and eat them all within mere seconds — that would be a logical continuation and explanation as they would also end up at the bottom of the hole, so conveniently dug up by Jack.

Ideally, she'd put the reality on pause, freeze time, and took a moment to think, but first she'd make sure everyone is safe and sane. Which wasn't possible, because Jack already wasn't. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Interacting with @Jack Warren

"Jack," she started, "pretty dear boy," win some favour, add some spice, "ummm, would you be so kind, please, to climb out of the hole, pretty please?" she paused and tried to search for his eyes in the weakly illuminated darkness (she didn't catch his look the first time because of Gideon). She would take a step forward, leaving George behind, and lowered his illuminating wand with her left hand. Eyes had got a bit used to the darkness, so it was easier to see.

"We're here to help you, Jack," she was still searching for his eyes, "Just climb out." The bone could wait, really. They needed to take him to the nurse.

"Relashio," she said silently, targeting Jack. She promised to help.

Action: Casting Revulsion Jinx on Jack to make him drop the shovel.