three_broomsticks | Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

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Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

HOGWARTS:
A JAMJAR MEME

Wizards of all ages and from all times: whatever you were doing, wherever you were - none of that matters now. You've been brought to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. You’ll find yourself in the Great Hall under a starry sky, illuminated by the light of a thousand candles.

What happened? Why were you brought here? How were you brought here? All questions to be answered, perhaps. But first, mingle with your kind and find a seat for yourself. This will be your home for a while.

Because there is no leaving. Student, staff, you with nothing to do - all of you trapped inside the school grounds.

Sorting to houses & Start-of-term feast
Those of you who have not been sorted into your houses, you're guided to sit on a stool while an old hat will contemplate a proper house for you. After, you can join your housemates at their long table.

The ghost of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, will soon give a speech once the last student is sorted...

"The very best of evenings to you! Now… to our new students, welcome. To our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…"

He will warn you about the anti-curse charm set upon Hogwarts and how it will bring harm in equal measures to yourself. He will urge you to stay calm and have a lemondrop; they’ll be provided at all tables.

Dumbledore would like you all to note few things, Hogwarts attendees:

1. This will be a continuous, no commitment necessary “storyline.”
What does that mean? Depending on the level of interest, there will be at least one post per month on the 3B-DR that will continue the storyline which begins here. Players are encouraged to make top-levels in the dressing room if they want to keep this verse going with their characters. Madame Rosmerta’s made a tag specifically for this.

2. Multiple versions of characters at various ages are welcome.
Whether that means there’s three Harry’s all in fifth year, or one Harry in first year, a second in third year, and a third in sixth year is up to you. All three Harry’s could also interact, depending on player preferences. AU versions of (HP)canon and non-(HP)canon characters are also welcome. Sometimes people disappear from Hogwarts and sometimes they come back.

3. Schoolwork
Dumbledore's ghost will invite all characters of age and knowledge to teach their specialties to the younger wizards. If your character could be possibly a teacher, or is interested in teaching, refer to this thread to sign up for a teaching position. The courses do not need to be anything serious (unless you want them to be). If your character would be interested in a course, you can look it up from the character's toplevel. Your character doesn't need to be of student age to participate in courses. (They're free for all!)

4. Sign up for your house.
Here is a thread for all the Hogwarts houses that your character could be sorted in.

5. This means… war!
Are you a Death Eater? A member of the Order? Rival students? It’s likely your character will encounter someone they don’t get along with. Duels are fine, but beware that any attacks meant to cause harm (curses) will backfire on the caster. If your character doesn’t care that damage will also bounce back to them, then Dumbledore’s ghost will be intervening. He won’t tolerate harm to any of his students… even if it’s harm to Tom.

6. Housecup
Of course points will be awarded and taken away by teachers and prefects. You can leave a comment in this thread for the points taken or given. Madam Rosmerta will add them up together for the next post. You can also sign up for a prefect role. Each house has one and that one will change in each post. First come, first serve is the rule, except if your character was a prefect in the last post, you can't sign up in this one.

1. Toplevel with your character

2. Tag other characters

3. Have fun!

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Lips thin. Eyes narrow. His current age is meaningless; if she's his senior, all the more reason to act like she is. Yet here he stands, an air of amusement to him, however faint it might be. Bella exhales through her nose, two plumes of smoke, as if she were a dragon and not a woman.

"Spit it out, then. Unless you're a mudblood, you've nothing to fear about sharing." Curiosity will be her downfall. This beastly man, infuriating in his dodginess. He's annoying in a way a thorn lodged between one's toes might be. Forgettable until one has to step on that foot, and then sharpy there.

She should hex him on principle. She could, too. Her wand's but one reach away, twined within her hair, holding it up. She watches him for a beat longer, toying with her cigarette before she's pushing to stand, like a lion rolling to its feet. Taking another drag on her ciggy. Taking the few steps necessary to bridge the gap between them. And in a fit of insolence, she purses her lips and exhales. Right up in his face.

"Or are you scared, ickle sprog?"

Being a smoker and of a particularly aggravating persuasion, Severus doesn't so much as blink at the acrid cloud. (Which may actually look sillier than pulling away, who knows.) He does tilt his head, sticky black hair moving further out of the way of strangely bright black eyes.

"What would I be frightened of, Mrs Lestrange?" --Something he only ever called her to wind her up, honestly, and this is probably edging towards foolish on top of being a wildly inappropriate way for a teacher to interact with a student. (But if anyone thinks Bellatrix Black is an ordinary student, they need their head examined.) He shouldn't be playing this or any game with her, but something about seeing her - and seeing her like this - inspires an uncomfortable twinge somewhere enclosed in his ribcage. What does she look like now, in Azkaban?

Passive-aggressively picking a fight alleviates his guilt.

(Somehow.)

"Professor Severus Snape."

Adrian puzzles over the task for a bit before collecting his supplies, going for the small glass panels. He wants it to be one you can see into, because flitterbys are cute, and it’ll be an interesting challenge to keep it from getting too warm in the sun.

He’s already messed about enchanting objects, so it’s just a matter of figuring out the enchantments to make it work the way he wants, and it’s a lot less complicated than charming his electronics to charge magically, so he’s doing pretty good getting it all to stick together.

The whole thing has sort of a stained glass effect when the sun shines through it, so that’s neat.

When Professor Black strolls by, he grabs his attention with a sheepish smile. “I have an idea for my heat source but I could use some help for making it work. I was thinking about, uh. Solar panels, they’re these things muggles have to convert energy from the sun, and I thought I’d do something like that but with a charm. I didn’t want it to get too hot in there, so I was thinking I could have something to store the heat in until it’s needed.”

I knew he would be. He’ll be trouble when he learns how to control his appearance better, I’m sure.

[He studies Harry’s expression carefully. While it’s true that a war does not simply end after the decisive battle is finished and one side officially concedes, there comes a time when you must stop living as though you’re still in the thick of it. Does Harry even know how?] Trying to end all hatred is a noble battle, Harry, but unfortunately one that has no end. Luckily there are many ways to fight it and some of the most effective methods do not involve traditional “fighting” at all.

[With a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, he guides him to sit. What Harry’s had to do doesn’t concern him as much as what he’s currently doing. There’s nothing to be done about the former, and plenty to discuss with the latter.] I do not envy anyone the task of bettering the ministry. How is that going?

“I know. I certainly made it easy to believe such things about me.” Remus leans into the hug, an arm around James as well. He never imagined he’d have this again; it’s bittersweet to hear that old nickname again in James’ voice. “It’s alright, Prongs. You know now.” That’s enough. It has to be. They can’t change it now.

The ache of losing Sirius again is still fresh enough to make him wince. “As I said, Peter framed him... not just for betraying us all, but for his own faked death and the actual deaths of a dozen Muggles in the vicinity. The Ministry was desperate to save face and put away Death Eaters as quickly as possible. His trial was a complete farce, and he was sent to Azkaban.” Remus is silent a moment, the guilt from not only allowing that to happen but believing he’d deserved nothing less overwhelming him temporarily. “He was there for twelve years before he managed to escape. For twelve years, I was convinced he deserved every second of being locked in that nightmare.”

[Remus wraps his arms around Teddy in return, closing his eyes and breathing him in.]

I fought so hard for it so you could live in it. That you are safe and happy and living your life freely is more than enough.

Of course he did. [It pains him that secondhand memories are all his son has of him, just as it pained him that Harry’s only memories of his parents were secondhand. Still, perhaps partially due to that, he couldn’t have asked anyone better to be Teddy’s godparent.] You’re absolutely right. We’re here. We should fully appreciate that while we have it.

The smile tells him enough. Maybe he should have waited for her to approach him, but-- it’s been so long, and he’s wanted so badly to see her again, to speak with her. She’d been one of his dearest friends, even before she and James began to date. He’d missed her like he’d missed James, like he’d missed Peter before he knew the truth, like he’d missed Sirius after he knew the truth… like a chunk of his heart was gone, a piece of his lungs missing.

His hands twitch to reach out to her but he stuffs them in his pockets, holds himself back. He’s already forced his presence when she wasn’t prepared for him.

“Some of them are more literally like we were, I’ve heard.” His own smile is faded, tired.

[Well the teen calling the little paper craft back over to himself is enough of a hint. Merlin’s not at all the type to lord “who he is” over people, luckily, and it’s-- actually kind of nice to be treated like he’s anyone else. He doesn’t know how Arthur stands it, really, most everyone treating him like the sun shines out his arse. No wonder he’d been such a royal pain at first.

He’s not going to make a big deal of it, at any rate. Just a little one.] What was that for, eh?

[Freya comes to mind first and Merlin ducks his head a moment.] The romantic sort’ll definitely get you in even more trouble, to be sure.

[He doesn’t really need a full explanation, because he already understands. Now it’s Arthur that comes to mind, and Morgana, and Mordred. He’d had similar thoughts about all three of them at different times, for different reasons.

He replies slowly, as though he’s still figuring it out for himself. He is, really.] It shouldn’t be easy to hate, especially not someone you’ve loved. Even when they fully deserve it.

[A flash of magic in his eyes calls the stone back to his hand and he skips it again.]

I believe you should help people whenever you can, but… some people won’t be helped. No matter what you do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, of course. [He calls the stone back again, eyeing it contemplatively.] There comes a point with those people when you’re just deluding yourself, though.

This is a level of reaction he’s fine with. “The one that works for King Arthur, yeah. Though a lot of things got remembered wrong, or so I’ve read...”

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve gotten the whole ‘your name and deeds will echo throughout history’ destiny speech before but-- it’s weird to see it first-hand. I’ve got more of a background role back home, and-- I think I might prefer it that way, actually.”

[He nods thoughtfully to the man’s points.] And everyone else that’s been brought here has a solid connection to the school? I haven’t seen many of the older students or other adults looking as lost as I am while trying to get around, they seem to know where they’re going. [He laughs at his own joke, paging through his notes.] That does help to narrow it down. I don’t know if I’d rule out that this was not an accident, though... [In fact, he’s been looking into rituals.]

[He’s starting to wish he’d taken more notice of Wynne sooner. He seems nice, and... cute.

He takes the book with a shy smile of his own, and hands Wynne some of the papers he’d dropped.] It’s habit, for me, when I’m alone. [At home, if he were with Al, he’d just take the main route, but... He follows Wynne’s gaze to the hallway behind him, then shuffles nervously, gathering up more of his things.] With what’s going on, all these people from different times… I’m not sure how safe it is for me to go the normal way, anyway. Did you see some of the teachers on the class listings? [And that’s just the teachers. He has no idea who all is among the students, or simply hasn’t decided to teach a course.]

Even apparently foul-tasting, it sounds like an answered prayer. "So with the potion, I don’t have to worry about hurting anyone? Does it help with other things too? Do you know if this Hogwarts has it? We can’t leave school grounds, and the Shack isn’t on school grounds..."

"You know how they are, I would’ve heard them by now." He remarks dryly. It feels unfair, that he was the only one brought here. He’d only just gotten to see them again after summer break, and now they were gone.

Stubborn. That's what he is. Perhaps he does know her in the future, to stand tall like this and not cower. Or perhaps he's a foolish thing, to invite her undivided attention like so.

There's a moment where he murmurs that last name--Lestrange--and she stands there like a stupid thing. Frozen to the spot, a flash of horror in her eyes, lips parting just a smidge. Bellatrix Lestrange? It's an unguarded moment. A flash soon washed away by a look of fury. The rage rushes upon her in a hot, white flash. So pure in its state, she allows herself to be lost in it.

"Black." Voice ringing loud and clear. "I am Bellatrix Black." Married! Her!

The cigarette drops to the floor, replaced by her wand. Black hair falls like a curtain around her shoulders. Bella's not foolish enough to point her wand directly at him, not when they're in a room so crowded--where he's a figure of authority and she's but a student--so she presses the tip of it to her lower lip. Smiles. There's nothing warm to it, or to her, though there is a thread of excitement all the same. How much would he squirm if she'd cursed him? Oh, but how much she wants to.

"Listen well, professor," she murmurs, voice soft, too soft for the cold, hard glint in her eyes. "I belong to no one. Most certainly not to a Lestrange."

You're dreaming.

There's a smile, like the moon, spread on Remus' lips as he stands up, mysterious and saying he knows more than he lets on. He moves around the room and studies little things, details that were there already when they were boys.

Then he glances over his shoulder at Sirius. "What makes you think this is because of you? Perhaps I just felt like going hippy for a while."

He scratches his chin, all the scruff there, and looks at himself through the reflection in the window. Vanity, it's such an interesting thing. It's rearing its ugly head again, like clockwork. Maybe he should shave...

"Politeness is cheap," he says with a mild smile as he slips in and closes the door behind him. But he doesn't sit down, instead he approaches her carefully, coming to help with the tea, holding the pot while she fills it.

"Lily," he starts hesitantly. "I'm so sorry about not being there when it happened. I don't know how much you already know about what really happened but I'd like to say I had never any intentions of betraying either of your trusts, and I never would. Nevertheless, I'm truly sorry for not being there to help you."

Blame is a tricky thing. He had been so wrapped up in his own business, in the order's business to see what was going on. He had known of course that James and Sirius had seemed very distant and now he's old enough to admit that he hadn't sought to change that because of self-pity and irritation, which is a poor excuse, especially when they lost so much because of it.

"You will have it," Remus assures him with a nod. There are several potion makers capable of producing the potion. It's an intricate one but Severus has already promised to make enough for all of them. "It's a hard one to brew but happily we have talented people in Hogwarts. And ingredients, at least for now."

He crosses his legs and leans onto the arm of his chair, considering younger himself. "Yes, the potion helps. It doesn't stop the transformation, but it lets you stay in control, I suppose. However, I would still recommend us all gathering into the dungeons for the night of the full moon. We can make ourselves comfortable."

[ Remus nods, not looking up from the book. He perfected the art of having a conversation and reading at the same time while in school with Sirius Black and James Potter who never actually shut up. ] Yes, it seems that most of the people that were brought here are from one or two generations, rather close to each other and at least most of us if not all went to school here.

[ He glances up briefly with a mild smile at the young man. ] Oh, I'd look into various theories. As many as we can produce, possibly more. It's just not wise to lay all your eggs in one basket after all.

Remus only knows half of it though. Not even half to be honest. He knows the brilliant and arrogant Sirius Black that he went to school with. His best friend. But this man is older and there's obvious pain behind his gaze, he's seen a lot more, he's seen suffering and more.

It makes Remus feel inexplicably shy. Like he has no right to say he knows this man.

"What a dreadful idea that had been," he says still with a small smile, trying to hold onto his guns, acting the way he does with Sirius usually. "Whoever thought that was a good idea will regret the day they caved when you've ruined the all the dignity from a generation of noble Slytherins by making them build beast cages."

[ he hesitates, then slowly reaches to accept the papers, expression thoughtful. tucking them atop his books, his glance flicks from scorpius to the hall, then back to scorpius again, lips twisting into a small frown. ]

.. I can see your point. [ he avoids being noticed if he can, but it's not difficult for him. no one knows him, no one here knows he's supposed to be anything other than another sixth-year. but for a malfoy, especially a malfoy who's grown up in a world where the malfoy name is no longer a good thing to have, it must be very different. and tom riddle--voldemort--would have a reason to despise the malfoys, wouldn't he?

realizing he's been frowning for several silent moments now, he forces a weak smile, apologetic. ] I know that there's a no-curses rule in effect, but I suppose that wouldn't really stop someone from physically assaulting another person. [ a beat, then his ears start to flush, dark eyes flicking away as if embarrassed. ] Um. I know you're a seventh year, but we're both Ravenclaws. I could walk with you when we're both going in the same direction. I mean.. if you want.

"I suppose." Harry tilts his head thoughtfully. He's not exactly sure about that but time will tell. It's not the first time he's living on Ron's couch by far. Usually they do get back together. He'd just like to cut the time in between to a minimum.

"I don't know what gets into me with her, either. She just makes me so angry at times."

Temper, that's their problem.

But Sirius doesn't really need to hear about it, does he? Harry clears his throat and pulls the cup up for another sip. "What do you think happened here?"

He barks out a sob or laughter, it could be either. He's never been perfect for anyone just because. That's pretty much it. Unconditional love, without demands, without hopes and expectations. He's been good, that's for sure, and he has known love from people who care about him. But this is different.

"I will tell you anything you want to know," he says and for once in his life, he means it, every word of it.

"But you did, mum, you saved me so many times. Can we start there?" he asks, hands nervously fingering a lock of red hair. "You gave your life and Voldemort couldn't touch me. He tried but he couldn't kill me. He tried several times but he couldn't." He leans in a little closer, whispering the rest. "Because your love protected me." It sounds so cheesy when he says it like this, but he doesn't care.

[ That brings a grin out of Harry, too. Because definitely, Teddy will be trouble when he figures out just how much he can do with his ability. ] I hope he won't cause too many heart attacks.

[ He lets Remus guide him to a table and takes a seat, smiling to him warmly. It's so good to see him again. ] I know, I know, Ginny keeps saying the same thing. I can't fight everyone else's battles for them. [ It's a difficult thing to do, though, let go of that mentality. If Harry would be any better at looking at himself from the mirror he'd also know that he's associating affection and love with how much he does for others. He had none before Hogwarts and during Hogwarts period, he was constantly putting his tail in fire for other people, even dying for them. ]

Shacklebolt is the minister now. He's doing well, I think. But there's a lot of corruption to wrangle.

"I'd be interested in hearing the truth of the matters," Harry says with an easy smile. "What kind of a bloke was Arthur, really?"

He can't help but burst out with a hint of an exasperated laughter. "I know what you mean. Not that my deeds will be as great as yours by any standards but it's pretty strange to think of yourself in the role that other people see, right? Even after the war, I still don't see myself as the Harry Potter the papers write about. I can imagine it's pretty odd seeing yourself in history books."

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Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

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