three_broomsticks | Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

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*jamjar meme

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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I'm one of them. A brow arches, arms folding over her chest. Just which Black could he possibly be? She's unaware of any inhabiting the school. Hasn't seen one in all the years she's attended, as well. Neither her father nor uncle mentioned family that might've passed, either recently or not so much.

"Regulus?" Now she frowns. Her steps are with purpose as she draws nearer, grey eyes sharp. Regulus is but a babe at this point in her life; however, there's no discounting the fact that this could very well be an instance of the ghostly headmaster playing tricks on them all once again. Cissy is older. Regulus, as well?

If this is Regulus... something twists in her chest. Her little cousin. "How old were you?"

It's such a curious thing to Severus: all the wizards and witches obsessed with blood purity have such a loathing for being married. One would think they'd have come up with a different system for continuing bloodlines by now. Contracts, or some other damn thing. Lucius and Narcissa are happy enough in his experience, but they're both nutters who probably get off on the political allegiance as much as anything else.

Almost lazily, Severus glances down and vanishes her discarded cigarette before it can scorch the carpet. Honestly, Bella, your own common room.

"That attitude about marriage is one of the reasons I've decided to never bother with it," he drawls, meeting the barely-restrained violence in her gaze with complete ease. "Well." An unkind smile. "A reason low down the list, at any rate, the first being this." He indicates his face. Who's going to marry him? Literally no one. But Severus seems amused about it, strangely.

"I never knew you as a Black. It's nice to meet you, Bellatrix."

Most of the students don't seem to need much help; it's as much an artistic effort as it is a practical one. Sticking charms are quite basic, and these are older students, so most of them are able to get their parts to stick, but more than half the houses are ugly as sin. And that's fine, it's not as if the flitterbys care, and Sirius gets a good laugh out of the lopsided monstrosities that some of them are putting together.

The heat source is, of course, the real challenge, trying to find the balance between too much heat and not enough, and not placing it against or near any flammable surfaces - half the tables have scorch marks on them by the time he's drawing up to Adrian's side, once he's tugged over.

"Oh, pretty," he remarks with raised eyebrows, lifting the little glass house and turning it over in his hands, little spots of refracted light dancing on the tabletop. He's listening, though, and once the boy is finished, Sirius is frowning thoughtfully.

"Like a battery." Like as not, Sirius is quite possibly the most well-versed of any of the pureblood professors in muggle items and how they work. "A warming charm would be easy, sure, cast it on something and place it inside. But you'd need to think of some method to keep it from wearing off." And he can't go giving out easy answers, of course. "Using the sun would be quite easy, since you've made it out of glass. Smart. Might not need a warming charm at all if you can trap it well enough."

Sirius doesn't stand, but remains lounging, boneless and lazy while Remus picks around the room, like every little thing he sees and touches is a fresh wave of nostalgia. Sirius' eyes follow him, lidded and calm, and an easy smile stretches across his mouth.

"Of course it's because of me," he says, cocksure as always, watching Remus' reflection in the mirror while he rubs at his scruffy chin, seeing already how he's second-guessing himself.

With a great heave, he pushes himself up and to his feet, stepping up beside and behind Remus, to squint into the mirror. "But it looks perfectly fine. If you like it, keep it."

Sirius hasn't quite examined it from Remus' perspective, of course, because this boy in front of him is far more familiar to him than he might be to Remus, all things considered. But Sirius hasn't really thought about that, after all. Perhaps later. Right now he's too caught up in the sheer novelty of ickle moonykins.

A soft chuckle rolls in his throat, and Sirius sits back in his seat.

"Well, they'll just have to get over it, now won't they?" he says airily, grey eyes sweeping over her small crowd. "Might serve 'em well to learn a bit of humility." Oops. Teachers really shouldn't be talking like that, should they? They're supposed to retain veiled neutrality as much as possible. Ah, but old habits die hard sometimes.

Of course he needs to hear about it! Shutup Harry, he wants to know all about the stupid, silly, completely normal things that have happened to you, okay??

"Your mum and dad were the same way, you know," he says with a grin, and a sparkle in his eye. "Or close enough, as like. Gingers, Harry, they've got sharp tempers."

And Potters too, apparently. James was always quite easy-going, but oh, when he got in his moods he was just unbearable. But fine, fine, if you really want to talk about boring things like what's going on here rather than the dirty laundry of your mundane life, he'll make that sacrifice. "Good question. Honestly, I don't suppose it's terribly surprising. Wizards like to think we know all about magic, but truth be told, we don't."

James is taller. Not by much, but Harry didn't inherit his height, apparently. In everything he'd been told about his parents and how much he was like James, no one had mentioned that before. For some reason, he finds it funny, and it takes a supreme effort not to let the laughter bubble out of him.

"Yeah," he says instead, with a little smile that wavers before it starts getting stronger, "yeah, Dad, it's me."

And because he hadn't been able to in the forest, no matter how much he'd wanted to (and how much his father had wanted to, he's sure) suddenly he steps forward and James is yanked into a crushing hug, no warning or consideration that this might be a little too strange for him, it's his dad. He's barely older than Harry, but he's here, he's alive.

Yes, it really is. Dumbledore had been evasive in life, certainly, even to her, but he'd never actively avoided her like this. They'd had something of an understanding, she'd felt, but that understanding appears to not extend into death.

"Oh, I have been no stranger to oddities at this school. Strange and wondrous, and somewhat unsettling, but at the moment there appears to be nothing to be done but continue on as we've been," she says a bit briskly. "Though I cannot quite imagine what might be going through your head when you find a younger you in your classroom. ...you'll tell me if you run across a younger me, I hope." The horror.

Robbed of his chair, Regulus drifts back to vertical and leans, as well as he can, against the desk. It could almost be normal, if he wasn't see-through. He doesn't answer at first, reeling a bit from Sirius' casual getting myself killed. He'd died? His brother, dead?

"Maybe this place knows you would have," he points out quietly. "You died. ...how?"

You've gaught his attention, godfather. Harry could listen to stories about his mum and dad for hours on no end.

"They were?" he asks, eyes wide and curious. "They fought like that too? Did she kick him out?"

It seems to be the Potter curse, having a thing for those sharp tempered gingers. Not that Harry is complaining. He rather likes his gingers. (Both of them. All of them. Ginny most of all.)

"Did my dad also have a sharp temper?" he asks, a little quietly so, looking at Sirius with almost pleadingly. His mum and dad are like the poster couple of eternal love for him. If they had issues, maybe it's not so hopeless for him and Ginny too.

"And yeah, I guess you're right about that." He's more than eager to drop the topic, though. Because Sirius always has something much more interesting to talk about.

Although Remus takes his seat with every intention of retaining an appropriate amount of stubborn disinterest, as Sirius begins the lesson he finds his interest piqued despite himself. He's never given magical engineering much thought, though he knows the subject to be of particular interest to his friend. Flying motorbikes and charmed toasters were always Sirius' thing, but Remus is surprised to realize that he'd become entirely engrossed in the lecture when they suddenly break to begin work on their own projects.

With his focus derailed, Remus stares blankly at the bits and pieces of apparent scrap in front of him. Somehow, he's supposed to take all this and make it into a functioning habitat for a magical creature? His lips twist into a wry expression, wand tapping lightly against his knee. Randomly, he picks up what appears to be a piece of a broken ceramic bowl, examining it front and back before setting it down again. This project is clearly going to take a significant amount of creativity, and Remus has no idea where to start.

After glancing over either shoulder as subtly as possible to see his classmates already hard at work, Remus sighs, slouching down in his chair and wishing pointlessly that his best mate were here. You know, the one who's his own age that he wouldn't be completely opposed to asking for help.

[Narcissa certainly isn't one of the many who seem to be experiencing some misplaced sort of nostalgia; but then, Narcissa had woken up in her four-poster bed just as she has every other morning of her sixth year, so today has simply been yet another tedious day at Hogwarts as had every other, however strange the day had been.

She's on her way back to the dorm when she spots a familiar surly figure ~~lurking~~ prowling along ahead of her, and she quickens her step step to catch up with him, feeling somewhat relieved to spot a familiar face amongst the wash of new arrivals. Of course, she hasn't any idea that the Evan in front of her isn't the Evan she'd met with only last night for their regularly scheduled lock-everyone-out-of-the-girl's-bathroom-to-complain-for-an-hour-about-stupid-boys-especially-that-Rabastan-Lestrange meeting.]

Evs! [She links her am with his when she reaches him, heaving a world-weary sigh that speaks to her firm belief this entire day had been planned out simply to inconvenience the two of them.]

Can you believe this nonsense? Honestly, I can hardly breathe for how tiresome it all is. 'Wizards from all ages and times'— [She scoffs, and you can hear the scorn dripping from every word.] —my shapely derrière.

With her initial task of glaring down her nose at people complete for the time being, Narcissa casts a final gaze around the crowded table and nods to herself. While the group is far too rowdy for her most refined and genteel taste (especially for this hour of the morning), no one seems to be presuming to challenge her position as ~~leader of the plastics~~ one who oughtn't be trifled with.

Bellatrix, seated next to her, naturally hasn't any need for such a display of dominance; nobody would trifle with Bellatrix Black if they were paid to do so, and what's more, Bellatrix has always been above such mundane tasks as directing the Slytherin social circles. Although the duties that fall to someone as lovely and popular as Narcissa are trying at times, she has always accepted her calling with the grace.

Satisfied that the rabble aren't demanding her attention for the time being, Narcissa turns to her sister and raises a finely chiseled eyebrow (a move that she'd practiced for hours in the mirror until she'd perfected the look of lofty condescension), her lips curving into a fond almost-smile that rids the expression of any animosity.

"Bella, darling, you simply must tell me what new product you've been using on your skin – you seem to have lost several years overnight." Unlike many around them, she doesn't wince at the cackle that her sister lets out upon spotting their ghostly headmaster, having had a lifetime to accustom her ears to the sound. "Why, we could practically be twins."

[Narcissa is lounging on one of the black leather sofas (which just so happens to have a prime view of the entrance to the common room) when the wall slides open. Her eyes flit up immediately from where she's been perusing the latest copy of Witch Weekly, and though she attempts to hide it under a veil of immense nonchalance, her gaze is hopeful as it falls on the figure who enters the room.]

...oh, it's you.

[Her tone does little to hide her disappointment, and she looks back down at the magazine with an ill-concealed sigh. Apparently, she'd been rather hoping to see someone else, and is less than enthused at the appearance of Rodolphus, the less charming and attractive of the Lestrange brothers, in her very humble opinion.]

Narcissa was making a pointed effort to ignore the recent influx of newcomers to the castle. Another day, another strange happenstance at Hogwarts School of Weirdos and Wannabes, and what with the mountains of homework she had now that she'd begun her N.E.W.T. level classes (entirely unreasonable amounts, so far as she was concerned) she could hardly be expected to bother with the increased number of self-important people prancing about the castle.

When an elegant woman glided around the corner ahead of her with only the quiet swish of very fine robes, however, Narcissa paused. Something about the woman's face seemed uncannily familiar, although she couldn't for the life of her place where they had met before. Tall, beautiful, and commanding the sort of presence that Narcissa aspired to embody herself, the woman was clearly out of place amongst the motley rabble that had all but taken over the school.

Unable to curb her curiosity, Narcissa slowed her step as the woman came toward her, waiting until she moved to pass by before daring to speak. "Pardon... Are we acquainted?"

Join the reminiscing, he says. Remus has been holed up in Gryffindor Tower for the better part of the evening, sequestered away amidst a pile of books that he'd borrowed from the library. Far from reminiscent, not only does Remus have all his mountains of N.E.W.T. level homework to worry about, but the fact that there are multiple copies of both himself and his friends running amok in the castle has left him feeling entirely overwhelmed.

He'd retreated to the safety of the dorm in an effort to get away from it all, at least for a bit, and he's seated cross-legged in the middle of his four-poster bed when James appears – or rather, a James appears. The man who stands before him is clearly several years older than the Prongs who'd nicked his last banger at dinner the previous night, and Remus can't help the slight slump of his shoulders as he watches the man examine his bed post with an obviously nostalgic expression.

"Why has everyone else appeared as an adult, only I'm still seventeen?"

Okay, not the most enthusiastic greeting. Remus hates how childish the question sounds the moment he's asked it, his tone verging on whiny even to his own ears. All day it's been like this: first, about a hundred older versions of himself seated at the breakfast table chattering away as though nothing were amiss; then, Sirius I-Can-Still-Smirk-in-the-Most-Infuriating-Manner Black teaching his lesson; and finally, so many other mates showing up as older and presumably more mature versions of themselves. Loath as he is to admit it, Remus feels somewhat left behind.

[Remus has been avoiding anyone bearing the surname 'Lupin' or any resemblance to him since this whole debacle started. Not that he isn't curious, mind you, only mucking about with time magic always seems to have the worst repercussions; somehow, it seems downright unwise to court the sorts of disasters that might occur should he garner too much knowledge of what the future has in store for him. ('Future' being the operative term, seeing as how every other copy of or person related to him seems to be significantly older than he is, which is just entirely unfair.)

Finally, however, he can no longer avoid the inevitable trip to the hospital wing: the full moon is upon him, and though he's put it off until the very latest possible second, at long last he has no choice but to pay a visit to their resident Mediwizard.

Feeling sick from both the time of the month and his immense trepidation at meeting another 'Lupin,' Remus drags himself on shaky legs into the infirmary, pausing just on the edge of the threshold in obvious discomfort. The wizard occupying the room doesn't resemble him at all – or at least, Remus doesn't think he does. Maybe he does; bugger if he can tell. His head's pounding far too much at this point for him to make an accurate assessment, the silvery tendrils beginning to creep in at the edges of his vision promising a migraine in the near future.]

Er. Mr... Lupin? [Weird. So weird. Too weird. Not at all normal or acceptable in any way whatsoever.]

[It does look a bit like he's showing off. That, and a large portion of the books on time magic are currently piled around where Remus sits just a few tables off.

Remus had retreated to the library in search of a bit of calm amidst the storm of chaos that had descended upon the castle with the sudden influx of newcomers. He'd enjoyed a short reprieve from the confusion as he settled down to do a bit of research, the massive library always offering a sort of quiet sanctum when things got to be a bit too much.

Well, almost always. Already somewhat testy from the realization that nearly all of his best mates now seem to be older (and 'wiser', and smugger) than he, Remus finds he can hardly focus on what he's trying to read what with all the flapping about happening only a few tables away.

Finally, he sighs, sitting back and peering at the boy, whom he doesn't recognize.]

Sorry, is there something I can help you find?

[ teddy is, as it so happens, doing some inventory, standing in front of an open potions-cabinet with a clipboard. he's short and femme today, hair a cotton-candy pink bob that curls around his--well, her--jaw. when she leans around the cabinet door, her eyes match, wide and a little startled despite herself. ]

It's just Teddy, [ she corrects with a quirk of her lips, and then pauses, giving remus a critical once-over. immediately, the small smile twists into a concerned frown, and she lifts the hand not holding the clipboard, pointing to her office. ] --In there, please. You certainly are waiting until the last moment, aren't you?

[ of course she knows why he looks so ill. she's not ignorant to the phases of the moon, considering her own troubles with it and the years she's spent working with werewolves. by now, she knows the signs very well indeed.

without another word, she closes the cabinet and heads into the office, herself. ]

[Hogwarts had changed. He'd only just begun to feel at home at his new school – had even made friends with some boys in his own year – when all of a sudden one morning he'd gone down to breakfast and everything had been different. Like the whole year had started all over again, but without any of the familiar faces he'd come to rely on to keep him company.

Feeling terribly alone, Remus trudges up to Gryffindor Tower after the Start-of-Term Feast (the second such feast he'd been to this year alone), thinking that perhaps if he goes to bed, he'll wake up tomorrow and everything will have righted itself again.

Climbing through the portal into the common room, he spies a boy sitting alone by the fire – the first boy near to his age that he's seen all day. Uncertain, Remus hovers awkwardly by one of the sofas, feeling terribly shy. At least the other boy looks about as lonely as he feels, which helps him gather the courage to speak.]

Er. Hello.

[He blinks, wondering if his eyes are playing tricks on him. That is definitely a witch, Remus. And quite a colorful one, at that. All the better. Maybe they're not related at all, and the common surname is just a coincidence.

Shoulders hunched and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes, Remus shuffles in the direction of the indicated office. Taking a seat, he peers cautiously up at the pink-haired witch once she enters.]

So you're... aware of my circumstances, then?

Hard not to tell, [ she responds gently, expression as reassuring as she can manage as she gently closes the door and moves toward her work area. she opens up a private cabinet, sorting through bottles and containers and beginning to pluck several down. ] I work with werewolves very closely at home, you see, and I've a few of the symptoms myself.

[ .. it's odd, though, isn't it? there's something a little familiar about this boy. and being a werewolf at his age..

she hesitates as she returns to her desk with the containers she'd chosen, pink eyes thoughtful. she sets them down on the edge, then leans against the desk herself. ]

Do you have regular access to the wolfsbane potion when you're not.. here?

[Remus watches her curiously as she moves about, eyes drawn time and time again to her impressively bright hair. She's like no Mediwitch that he's ever encountered before – especially not one employed at Hogwarts – but then, there are loads of people in the castle now that appear more than a bit out of place.

Despite how his eyes squint against the light in the office, there's no mistaking the surprise in his expression when she mentions having worked closely with werewolves in the past. Where had she come from, that she would speak so openly about associating with 'undesirables' like him? She'd obviously recognized his symptoms right away simply by looking at him – not because anyone had informed her of his situation in particular, then.

Head still pounding, it's a moment before his brain catches up with what he's been asked.]

Sorry, access to what?

I'll take that as a 'no', then.

[ where had he been before hogwarts? if he can't get access to wolfsbane, then how had he known to come to her? unless.. it's not a matter of 'where' but 'when' for this young man.

the thought makes her stiffen briefly, glancing him over more closely. his hair and eyes are familiar, and something in the shape of his features..

oh. she takes a careful breath. ] .. You must be Remus. [ she doesn't really have many photos of her father as a young man. she doesn't have many photos of him at all, truthfully.

her eyes slide away, and she shifts, picking up a stoppered container and offering it out to him. ] Wolfsbane potion allows a werewolf to keep his or her human mind during course of the transformation. It helps ease the pain, as well. This is my own improvement, which shortens the dosages and improves the analgesic effect. .. Doesn't do much for the taste, though, unfortunately. [ she worries at her lower lip, glance flicking from him to the other containers on her desk. ] .. However, you generally still need to take it for a few days beforehand, so I've chosen some additional medicines that should help.

"Definitely good enough," she says, lifting her hand up and wiggling her fingers, showing off her engagement ring with a grin. It's a wonder how she could have ever gotten annoyed with him when he's always been so charming and sweet. (Easy, she still does, sometimes, like he does with her, because beneath the charm and sweetness, there's a little shite, as well. Like her.)

He has a habit of looking surprised when she does compliment him. It makes something fierce and protective stir inside her every time.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to remind you of that every day." Another thing about him: he's adorable when he gets self-conscious like that. "Right after I beat you around the pitch!"

She wiggles out of his arms and swoops down to pick up her broom, lightly swatting his arse with the butt of it before hopping on and kicking into the air. Her laughter's echoing behind her as she zips away.

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Hogwarts: A Jamjar Meme

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wandering;

I. Finally I bring you your ridiculous sister have fun

wildcard; Slytherin common room

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