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Term 46: May - August 2017 Term Forty-Six: Guests from Ilvermorny (Sept 2092 - June 2093)

 
 
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Old 06-05-2017, 09:30 PM
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Default IMPS Challenge #2 :: Valerie Gray


Your teeth may or may not be chattering as you walk along a pathway that is covered in a layer of freshly fallen snow. The pathway soon comes to an end beside a large stone, a subtle warning that treading any further will mean putting oneself at risk. Standing before you, in all of her glory, is the Whomping Willow. Currently the tree remains still, icicles glistening from her branches. But something about them seems a little off...

What is your next move? Dare you take a closer look?

OOC: Post in this thread for your challenge to begin. You will have until June 20th @ 11:59 PM GMT to complete this challenge. Good luck!
Old 06-12-2017, 12:30 AM   #2 (permalink)

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It had taken her the entirety of the time between task one and now to calm herself down. Were it not for the few choice words coming from the more surprising of locations and people, Valerie would have likely bowed out of the competition. Blasted her way out was more like it. Yet here she was. Standing on the pathway with her combat boots making a soft crunching noise in the snow. While it had proved superfluous in the first task, the sixteen year old repeated the step and whispered Quietus to herself while pointing her cherry wood wand at her feet before proceeding further.

The cold? It hardly bothered her anyway. For reasons she refused to let her mind wander to as they had put her at risk the last task and been nothing but unwanted distractions. Which had only seem to increase since the last task. Distractions.

Shaking her head and freeing herself from these as much as she could, Valerie found herself at the end of the path in front of a stone. The warning nearly elicited a light laugh from her. Did she really have any choice but to proceed? Tightening her grip around her wand a bit more, her light eyes fell upon the Whomping Willow. Something she knew very little about and perhaps it would have been more in her favor to have paid more attention during History of Magic when they had studied Hogwarts over her years at Ilvermorny. What she could recall in the moment was sufficient enough for her to switch her wand to her other hand so she could perform a swift twist and tap movement to her other. "Prehenso," she whispered, her gentle tone escaping her lips in s subtle white mist as her hot breath mixed with the freezing temperature outside.

Moving closer still, she took note of the icicles and was momentarily reminded of everlasting ones. They had been everywhere over the holiday break and prior (hung on the banisters and tapertries all at Hogwarts. However, knowing the manner in which this particular breed of tree could come to life, they did not look the sort to bring holiday cheer but more so a weapon for the tree to use against her. The thought only made her lips curl into a snarl as she continued to approach.
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We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
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Old 06-12-2017, 03:47 AM   #3 (permalink)
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Chilly wind swept past the girl, swirling her whitish hair in front of her. It had a ripple effect on the cold leaves, something that made the icicles dangling even more ominous. Why would leaves be left unfrozen if it were cold enough for icicles to be present? If you look closer, the icicles aren’t icicles at all - but you have probably figured that out by now. Vials, full of potions ingredients, sparkled in the light, multicolored gems peppering the greenery of the Willow’s branches.

The Willow’s trunk gave a slight creak as you walk forward, Ilvermornian. Keep your wits about you. The eerie stillness is not natural, as you know if you know anything about Whomping Willows.

Further along, if you’re not careful, you’ll trip over a rotund, black item on the ground. It rests there as if it were placed haphazardly on purpose. Inside the cauldron is a very simple message:

"Well, this isn't a hat. Get on with it! Make your way to the passage beneath the tree."


Was the workstation always there? That will surely make it easier to mix together a potion. What could help you get past those branches that have suddenly begun to sway, but only ever so slightly. So slightly, that if you weren’t paying acute attention to it, you’d miss it. But if your senses are heightened - which they might be in such a state - those subtle sways could be alarming. Do you dare attempt to extract the vials for the potions? How will you do it?


Creeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak




OOC: Feel free to decide which ingredients your character retrieves and what potion she will make.
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Old 06-12-2017, 02:38 PM   #4 (permalink)

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She did not need owl eyes to see the cauldron before her and could not prevent the scowl from forming on her face when she read the message within. Yes, she was well aware that it was not a hat and was beginning to wonder if these tasks were purposefully trying to insult the competitors. Though she would not be opposed to a match of Creaothceann and clearly the lines were blurred already in this International Magical Pupil Standoff. Even if, perhaps, simply from a moral standpoint. Surely a competition that could release sixteen dementors in a forest at once could enable an illegal broom game to commence.

Pushing her bitterness aside somehow, Valerie’s eyes flickered towards the Whomping Willow (one of the rare topics in her History of Magic textbook that had held her interest for particular reasons) again and the vials dangling from it. The temptation to brew a Calming Draught was present, particularly now that she got to thinking how unfairly biased this task was in favor of Hogwarts, particularly considering this species being unique to the United Kingdom. There was also the fact that this whomping willow was one that her competitors had spent time with for at least five years and were likely to know far more about than herself. All the more reason she was grateful that her mood was rather pleasant at the moment. Any sort of sensory enhancing potion for that matter, but there was a purpose for a cauldron here and surely she was meant to brew something that she could not create with a simple wave of her wand. A few options crossed the Wampus’ mind, but before she became too many steps ahead had to buy herself some additional time with the Willow. Wand out once more, Valerie sent two short flicks towards the Whomping Willow to send a nonverbal Immobulus towards it and its subtle sways. Pausing a moment for the charm to (hopefully) take effect, she held her wand tightly and approached with rapid caution towards one of the branches lowest to the ground. Low enough for her to jump up and grab hold of one of the vials and then let the pull of gravity help her with the rest.

Walking along the under the branch, she began listing off ingredients as she went with ease. The semi translucent and iridescent sheen of fairy wings in a vial was unmistakable and quite the ironic ingredient considering the last task, but Valerie bent at the knees and pushed off the ground to pluck it from the tree nonetheless. Multiple vials of blood lay in a row next, which made her next selections difficult. Identifying bloods based on taste was far easier than sight alone. Particularly with the sheen from the vials causing discoloration on the various shades of deep crimson. She would simply have to pluck as many as she could now and use time later identifying whether or not she would need them all.

Which brought up unnecessary thoughts that distracted her from her task (now jumping up and gripping vial number three of blood). So many potions ingredients. Not all of which were useful to her in what she would be brewing. What was to become of the rest? What if the Willow were to come to lift and its branches wild? It was for this reason she was reluctant to use a Summoning Charm on any of the vials for fear that they would break against the wood and waste what lay within. Had the buffoons in charge of this competition taken the precautions to ensure that these vials would not break and therefore not waste its precious contents? She could only imagine that some of the vials containing clear liquids were phoenix tears. Was that silvery liquid far up in the branches obscured by falling snow and other swaying vials unicorn blood? The Wampus would be lying if other thoughts did not cross her mind. But first she would continuing taking what could be of potential use (now or later) along this branch.

Just as she had leaped and grabbed a vial containing unicorn hairs within, Valerie was struck with a thought. A thought that, perhaps, the potion was not meant to be used on herself but on the Willow itself by way of pouring the potion over its roots. Something that could, perhaps, make it more cooperative and willing to let her pass by without much fuss. Reminiscent feelings when she reflected back on the first task and how they had been pigeon holed into making it more compliant. Weighing this new thought in her head as she returned to the cauldron and set what vials she had collected thus far on the workstation (which was hopefully out of reach of being smashed to bits), her eyes scanned the great tree for other options. The topmost branches were naturally too high for her eyes to see from where she stood and climbing the tree was simply not an option. Not when she had a more efficient card to play.

Holstering her wand for safe keeping in her combat boot, Valerie focused intently on her transformation. Her body shrinking in size, her skin sprouting feathers, eyes widening, toes melting into one another and forming talons...it all happened at once and almost in the blink of an eye. The sixteen year old’s stature strunk, clothing melted swiftly into snowy white and buffy colored feathers, her slender face rounded, and eyes deepened. Significantly more pale than a the average barn owl (not to mention her pale eyes even in this form), she flapped her wings and took off. But not before her keen eyesight took notice of an unusual knot (several really considering trees did tend to have more than one). Something she had forgotten about previously. Was that knot not the key to immobilizing the tree more definitely?

Impatient as ever, she considered whether or not she could bypass the brewing all together to get to the next stage. Not because she lacked confidence in the subject, but rather if a Freezing Charm and pressing the knot could do the trick historically speaking, then why would it not to the same now? Besides, her swift flight as an owl could easily allow her safe travels through the passage.

Shifting her flight path, Valerie swooped around the base of the tree with her owl legs stretched out before her towards one of the knots (perhaps if she had been a Hogwarts student she would know for sure whether or not it was the knot) as though it were a small rodent.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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Old 06-13-2017, 05:51 AM   #5 (permalink)
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The swaying soon ceased; the Willow was still as the spell took effect. It stayed immobile all the while she plucked vials from the branches. Nice spellwork. It seemed to the do the trick for now.

But for how long?

It had been a few minutes, and the tree grew restless. As the beginnings of the spell wore off, the trunk trembled. The branches trembled, too, sending vials shattering to the ground, those potions ingredients splattering like paint. It only trembled, for now. Those tiny owl feet pressed into the knot, but nothing happened. It did not stop the tree from trembling. Perhaps, it wasn’t THE knot the owl wanted to touch. One of the branches suddenly jabbed outward. The tree was testing it movement, and as more of its limbs became free of the spell, they began to swing as if in slow motion. The spell did, after all all, still have its hold on the tree, but it was wearing off. Even with the knot pressed, one would still have to find the secret passageway. And time is ticking away until the tree is back to its full power….
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Old 06-13-2017, 04:32 PM   #6 (permalink)

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Of course. Of course it was not the correct knot and were it not for her owl head being turned around backward she would have missed that branch that suddenly jabbed in her general vicinity. Owl wings tilting so she could swerve easily around it, Valerie muttered to herself recalling something berated at her about the first task. ”Just go with what they obviously want us to do.” Muttering to herself (which came out as displeased screeches from her beak) and tilting her wing and tail feathers to launch herself more skyward, the Wampus turned her keen eyes back to the vials left on her station below and realized immediately that none of those were useful for what she felt in her gut she needed to brew. Seeing as she recalled the Whomping Willow to be sentient in nature, she was going to appeal to its emotional roots. Literally.

Screeching when something hard struck her feathered back, the barn owl performed a bit of a barrel roll to avoid what she assumed were more branches coming to life. Only instead of bits of bark and twig splattering across the snowy blanket below there were splashes of color as precious and in some cases rare ingredients were shaken free from the tree. Another screech, this one of disgust, and Valerie went into a nose dive for a vial containing a clear liquid. Perhaps it was water or perhaps it was something more, but she soon had it clutched in her talons before it too shattered on the ground. That had certainly answered her concerns about whether or not precautions had been taken in keeping the vials safe. It was all a signal to her that she needed to act quickly. If for no other reason that to spare more waste from occurring.

Swooping down to her work station and carefully setting the vial of clear liquid upon its surface, Valerie maintained her efficient owl form as she circled around the Willow and used her keen owl eyes to look for specific ingredients. Done was she with collecting things that were rare and potentially useful. Now she was focused. She already knew her smaller owl form was helpful in two ways, one being that she was a smaller target and therefore more difficult to strike (not to mention far more agile and with superior senses to movement). The other in that her animal form was, in theory, something that would be less threatening to the Whomping Willow than a human form.

Veering around the eastern side of the tree brought her to a vial of snake fangs which she quickly took in her left talon. Her right soon found dried nettles and she finished off her current sweep of collection with claiming another vial of clear liquid. Taste testing would be the only way she would be able to decipher what liquid was what (which would perhaps require a bit of transfiguration work to her tongue. Or at least some charms work. But these were thought she was merely entertaining as she dropped off these three vials and did a bit of a figure eight around the table to reorient herself back towards the Willow for another sweep of ingredients. Dried daisies, fresh fluxweed, and yet another vial of clear liquid were next. A third go at the Willow (one with excessive weaving through branches as they shifted a bit more here and there) produced vials of short coarse fur her heightened eyesight was able to identify as crup fur (which she would have to test with her sense of touch once on the ground to confirm they were soft like cruppie fur rather than stiff like an adult’s), condensed kneazle breath, and the golden yellow liquid with tiny black seeds that was unmistakably passionfruit juice. Setting these on her work station, the sixteen year old animagus made one final search among the branches for any other remaining vials of clear liquids and returned to her work station with two more. Surely one of these contained the appropriate raindrops. Surely.

Listing off the ingredients to herself one last time (seeing as transforming into and out of her animagus form took a lot of energy that could leave her drained if performed with too much frequency over a short period of time), Valerie was confident enough to revert herself back to her human form so she could finally begin her brewing process. Feathers melted together and darkened into her cranberry and blue Ilvermorny champion uniform, talons morphed together to recreate her black combat boots, bones in her neck stiffened and could no longer turn the full three-hundred and sixty degrees, and the crisp cloud of white breath in the frozen air returned as the barn owl beak dissolved into her usual tight pink lips.

Valerie took a moment (rolling her shoulders, flexing her fingers, and such) to become readjusted to her standard human form, but soon enough was pocketing the vials she had collected earlier (blood and fairy wings and such) to hopefully keep for her own brewing purposes later. Quickly pulling aside all of the vials of clear liquid and lining them up before her on the table, Valerie pulled her wand from her pocket and grabbed an eyedropper from the work station. Flicking the eyedropper with her fingers to confirm its consistence, she flourished her wand over the glass and performed a nonverbal Vitrumonia to ensure no contamination would come to whatever liquid was contained within her first vial. Uncorking it and giving it a waft (which lead to no conclusive evidence of what was within) she carefully inserted the eyedropper and then squirted a tiny bit on her tongue. Certainly not raindrops. It had a salty flavor to it (a defense mechanism against microorganisms) which had the Wampus quickly re-corking the vial and placing it into her pocket for safekeeping. Repeating Vitrumonia on the eyedropper as she moved to the next vial, Valerie paused here to cleanse her mouth with a carefully placed Aguamenti before proceeding. This one had the faintest hint of rose attached to it. Enough to satisfy her need for a particular raindrop which completed her list of required ingredients. However, just to be safe, she did remove the cork from the vial of fur and twisted on of the hairs between her fingers. It too received a satisfied nod from her and thus back in went the cork.

Removing the cork from the vial holding the snake fangs and dumping them into the provided mortar since she would be needing to grind those up soon (after performing an appropriate Cleaning Charm, of course), Valerie cleaned the empty vial with the same charm as the eyedropper before filling it with water from her wand (Aguamenti). Dumping the first vial full into the cauldron, she repeated this twice more with steady porcelain fingers (a total of three vials worth of water) and lit the fire under her cauldron with a nonverbal Incendio and set the heat to low. Making quick work of crushing four snake fangs by hand (individually and setting each white pile aside on separate clean dishes) with the mortar and pestle. Venturing the occasional glance up at the Willow to check on its potential movements (and ready to shoot another Freezing Charm if the need should arise), she checked on her cauldron just in time to give it an approving nod as steam began to rise. Lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms out to crack her knuckles and therefore relieving some of the tension remaining in her limbs from her excessive flight around the Whomping Willow, she began the steady handed process of adding a dash (smaller than a teaspoon amount) of nettles into the liquid followed by a clockwise stir with her clean wooden spoon. Adding one of her ground snake fangs next and repeating the clockwise stir after, the alternating procedure of adding one ingredient after the other until gone with a stir between took Valerie’s full and undivided attention while she waited somewhat patiently for a light silver steam to begin rising.
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We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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Old 06-14-2017, 05:53 AM   #7 (permalink)
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The effects of the immobulus from before still had a hold over the Whomping Willow. As the Ilvormornian became human once more (which, for the record, it was a pity there was no one around to admire the spectacle), the Willow, in stillness, grew agitated. It wasn’t like this was noticeable, since it was frozen, but the trunk gave a woody grooooaaaaan.

Don’t let yourself run out of time now, dear.

The branches began to shake. It isn't violently yet, but the intensity will only increase with time until the freezing charm wears off.
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Old 06-14-2017, 02:47 PM   #8 (permalink)

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Eyes darting up just as the desired silver vapors began appearing, the Wampus bowed her head back down to focus on her work seeing as the Whomping Willow was still under the influence of her charm (although that groan was rather disconcerting). It was not the most complex of brews, but was one that spoke to perhaps the more overlook aspect of this particular species of magical plant. An animated plant with a predictably antagonistic personality, Valerie elected that the most efficient means of winning favor with the will would be to attempt and pour Camraderie Concoction (the very potion which she was brewing now) around the base and over its roots. She may need to magically enhance the photosynthesis process for things to take full effect, but she could tackle that hurdle should it arise (the spell already tucked away in the back of her mind but in all likelihood unnecessary given the speed at which this particular potion dissolved and activated). For now her pale hands moved to grab the vials containing the raindrops and dried daisies.

Cleaning her mortar and pestle once again with a well-timed and nonverbal Scourgify, she swiftly crushed the all twelve daisies and dumped those into the cauldron. An eyedroppper full of raindrops (the ones with the faint aftertaste of rose which implied a harvest from rose petals) went in next and she waited for this additional ounce of liquid to dissolve in with the rest of the ingredients, checking the fire to make sure it had not grown too strong for this delicate process. A watched cauldron never boils, were the insufferable words echoing in her head as she did exactly that. Impatience was a factor given the time constraints associated with the unpredictability of the sentient tree in her presence, but it was only natural to wish to continue brewing the precise moment things began to bubble. She did pause for a moment to glance back at the tree and all its creaking and wooden moaning while gripping her wand in anticipation of shooting off another Freezing Charm (or Blasting Curse if it tried to take a swipe at her, to be honest). When the present situation remained the same, Valerie cleaned her silver knife with another Scourgify and pulled the fluxweed from the vial. Chopping it coarsely (and glancing at her ticking time bomb, the Willow, now and again) her ears soon picked up the sound of the liquid within her cauldron gently lapping at the sides thanks to the turbulent brew within.

Finally.

Acting quickly, the ounce of fluxweed was dumped into the cauldron and her hand reached next for the vial of cruppie fur. Using her teeth to uncork it (and spitting it in some haphazard direction) she poured the hairs in to the table and used her index finger to pick up them one by one, pressing her finger firmly against the table so the fur stuck to her clean hands and flicking it into the cauldron. All the while her wooden spoon (held in her other hand) alternated between clockwise and counterclockwise motions until all ten hairs had been added and her potion-in-progress now an awful bubblegum pink color.

Grabbing the vial of golden passionfruit juice next, a half ounce of it was added and then her attention shifted to the final ingredient: condensed kneazle breath. Shaking her hands out to release any tension built up there from her previous diligence, Valerie grabbed and uncorked that vial quickly. Hunching her shoulders and straining her eyes as she tipped it downwards, she tried to ignore the small cutesy meeeeeoooooooooow that poured out along with the first drop into the brew. Two more meows later and the cork went back into the vial which she then pocketed for safe keeping. Put out the flame with another flick of her wand, the sixteen year old was pleased to see that her potion was a pleasant (or obnoxiously bright depending on whose opinion you were seeking) sunny yellow. Picking up and once again applying the appropriate cleaning charms to the strainer provided and looked around for another vessel to transfer her potion into. But the particular brand of vessel she had been hoping for was not present.

Well then.

Wand out and thrust in the direction from whence she had come (the direction of Hogwarts castle and, more importantly, the greenhouses), the Wampus performed an upside down ‘U’ movement. “Accio watering can.” If the poncho wearing loud hippie of a deputy headmaster Hogwarts had noticed a large hole in the glass of one of his greenhouses, she would know why. Not that she particularly cared. Tapping her foot impatiently, it took a bit longer than expected for the object to show up. Jumping up and grabbing it out of the air, she waved her wand about it to clean it as well. Now came the long and tedious process of straining her potion into the watering can. Not just that, but also keeping an eye on the Whomping Willow in case the charm wore off and it decided to take a swing at her. The process was simple enough, ladle from cauldron over the strainer into the watering can while shifting her gaze between her manual work and the tree itself. It would have been more efficient to charm the appliances to do this for her, but when it came to potions brewing Valerie was a bit of a purist in that she much preferred to do things by hand.

Thankfully the process of transferring from cauldron to watering can helped speed up the cooling process and (upon resting her hands on either side of the can once it was full) had reached an acceptable temperature for her to proceed further with her gamble. Eyes shifting upwards to the remaining vials dangling from the branches as she approached the Whomping Willow once again with the watering can in one hand and wand the other, Valerie began methodically pouring the yellow potion over the exposed roots and all around the base of the trunk. “Drink up,” she cooed dryly, trusting that her brew would manipulate the historic tree into a more friendly disposition so it would reveal to her the whereabouts of this secret passage that seemed hidden from view for now.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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Old 06-15-2017, 05:47 AM   #9 (permalink)
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Through the entirety of the Wampus’ potioneering, the Willow shook in that quiet, calm way, but the metaphorical clock was ticking. The shaking became more violent, more agitated, and it seemed the white-haired child was in for a rough time soon. A floating watering can probably wouldn’t have irritated the Willow, but what did was how long it was being kept in this frozen state.

Violent tremors had begun to affect the ground. Surely the young woman could feel it by now.

Suddenly, all was at ease. The potion seeped into the dirt, and the roots did “drink” it up. Its branches hung in a lazy fashion. It had no desire to swing at her or to hide the human-sized hole dipped under its roots. It looked as if it were just the right size for a person…

How curious.
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Old 06-15-2017, 02:46 PM   #10 (permalink)

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The tremors were noticed. Impossible to ignore. But the sixteen year old had resolved after the embarrassment that had been the first task (Disillusioned or not when her breakdown had occurred) that she would not let any kind of sensory reflex overload her senses and cripple her again. This was not an earthquake. This was simply the Whomping Willow attempting to throw a tantrum but being unable to do so. It would get over it.

Finishing her circling of the tree and emptying the contents of the watering can, Valerie took a few cautious steps back with her wand drawn to assess just how effective the brew had been. Would the Willow respond at all (although she was confident in some sort of response)? Would it attempt to hug her or brain her silky white hair or something equally absurd with those massive branches? Ultimately, Valerie found herself relieved. Not in the sense that her potion had failed (because it had not) but in that apparently the Whomping Willow’s version of friendly was that its branches became like overcooked spaghetti. Good. She had not wanted to put up with the tree hugging her to its bosom or anything remotely resembling such touchy feely sentiments. This was a version of friendly she could tolerate (something a few of her Ilvormornian acquaintances could learn).

Discarding the watering can over her shoulder and ignoring its clank as it hit and rolled away on the ground, she approached the tree once more. Her steps were a little less cautious (but not complacent) as she circled around the base like a lioness hunting her prey as her eyes studied each root and the way it wove around others and the surrounding foliage. She soon found what she was looking for (or rather the Whomping Willow shared with her given its now benign state). Grinning to herself, Valerie knelt down before the hole and peered inside. Naturally, the only way she would be able to see anything down in this human-sized hole would be to climb inside. Something she need not be told twice.

And if she really did require the reminder she could simply walk back over to her cauldron and read that ridiculous note at the bottom. Which she certainly did not.

Bitter taste of Hogwarts favoritism returning to her mouth, she gave her wand a wave to conjure a humble sampling of bluebell flames and followed up with a Supersensory Charm on herself in lieu of transfiguring more owl features again. She vaguely recalled this passageway leading to a shack of some sort, but outside of these vague parameters the Wampus could hardly recall much as the topic had hardly occupied much of her textbook and it was only through some additional digging during animagus training that she had learned of its association there.

Giving the scene behind her a cursory glance, Valerie sent the bluebell flames down into the dark passageway first and slipped in immediately behind.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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Old 06-16-2017, 01:00 AM   #11 (permalink)
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Indeed, the passageway is dark and the tunnel isn’t very wide, but not enough to invoke any claustrophobic anxiety. The bluebell flames reveal just what this tunnel looks like: dark and dirty. Further along, there is a door that will come into view. It’s either into the door, into the shack that you vaguely know about, or back out to the Willow. The choice should be obvious.

There is only one way.
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Old 06-16-2017, 02:44 AM   #12 (permalink)

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It was a quick slide down into the tunnel and the Wampus gave a bit of a tumble when her boots suddenly hit the ground. Wind briefly knocked out of her, Valerie pushed herself up off the ground and did not bother to brush off any dirt now clinging to her trousers or shirt. The bluebell flames hovering closely around her and her senses on edge more so than before thanks to the charm, the sixteen year old searched around the tunnel for anything of interest. She supposed casting Homenum Revelio would get her nowhere at the moment, so her wand remained held firmly in her hand as she proceeded forward.

As she walked, the Wampus wrecked her brain for any recollections that she could in regards to the shack she assumed lay ahead. This tunnel was the sole entrance and exit into it, that much she recalled, which caused only slight unrest at the potential of only one escape route. Then again, surely a well placed Bombarda or Bombarda Maxima towards one of the walls or boarded up windows could come in handy should whatever awaited her prove to be more compromising than her first official encounter with the Whomping Willow had proven to be.

She found herself at a door soon enough. One that upon attempting Alohomora had revealed itself to already be unlocked. Levitating the bluebell flames to either side of her focused porcelain features, Valerie stood back on the balls of her feet and readied her wand once again. Pointing it at the door she cast a nonverbal door-opening spell and waited as small shower of sparks erupted from her wand and flew to the door’s handle, opening it for her. Waiting until the door had swung open in full, Valerie stepped inside (bluebell flames leading the way) with the hairs rising on the back of her neck in restless anticipation.
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Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
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Old 06-16-2017, 03:50 PM   #13 (permalink)
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Your footsteps are the only noise as you make your way down the tunnel. Extra precautious, aren’t we? But that’s to be expected, considering what you have just faced, both in Challenge One and now in Two. Fear not, what lies ahead takes not physical strength, clever one.

With the door open, the Shrieking Shack lay ahead. On the ground, right in front of the doorway, is a rolled up piece of yellowing parchment. This is what is written on the parchment:


*Click Me*


Text Cut: Text Only
Remember: things are not always as they seem,
And with odd trinkets this shack does teem.
In the time remaining, you must find your way
And locate two items that have gone astray;

One is held dear to our pigletted friends.
It can’t build a home, but a house it does amend
To every boy and girl cherished at the castle,
But you won’t find it without much hassle.

You’re looking for a lever that unlocks a door,
But to find the item you might need a particular score.
Try them all, and you will see. Something is off.
Dust covers this place like an infernal cough.

Now, our next item is from across the seas.
It can attach and reattach as you please.
It doesn’t write; it surely isn’t a quill,
And it’s small in size as well as beautiful.

Twist clockwise and nothing you’ll get,
But counter that, and you might regret
The noxious gas that fills your space
If you turn it too quickly, wood it would deface.

Good luck, champions. Find them both here.
Look with your eyes, hear with your ears.
Search up and down, and then high and low,
But don’t be too hasty or too slow.



How curious. You know what you must do now. How will you tread forth from here? Good luck, Valerie Gray.



OOC: Here is a floor plan provided OOC to make it easier to RP your character exploring the shack. Feel free to be as creative as possible.

Text Cut: Floor Plans
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Old 06-18-2017, 12:48 PM   #14 (permalink)

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It seemed as though her precautions were in vain once again down to the Quieting Charm she had placed on her feet prior to her approach of the Whomping Willow. Seeing as nothing (not even a dust-composed defensive form) was coming for her, the sixteen year climbed up and fully inside the Shrieking Shack and grey eyes fell on the parchment on the floor. Giving her wand a swish and flick to levitate it up off the ground for her to read, the Wampus groaned after only the first few lines.

A riddle. A word riddle. This task was coming down to a word riddle.

Pinching the tight skin on her forehead between her thumb and middle finger, Valerie read over the instructions once. Twice. A third time. Empty words to her mostly. Particularly if she continued to just stand idle in the frame between this room and the next. She took a quick glance over her shoulder and noted the stairs leading up, but first she ought to see what was here on the first floor. And if anything matched the description of what the riddle was hinting at. She hated these things. Hated poetry in general really and no matter how many time Lachlan had attempted to introduce her to genres that she should find interesting, she continuously found herself put off by flowery words and whimsical rhythms.

To every boy and girl cherished at the castle,” she read aloud as the parchment floated alongside her while she walked forward. Something to do with piglets and building houses? Was that meant to recall thoughts of the Three Little Pigs? Seemed more plausible than This Little Piggy. But this item was something that Hogwarts students cherished? That meant very little to the Wampus, so rather than focus on the what she opted to focus on the where (a trapdoor, a particular score). Which sounded an awful lot like she needed to play a pinball game, but she doubted this dingy old building housed that sort of thing and the mention of them all alluded to more options than a pinball machine could supply.

Turning left and stepping into a bathroom, her eyes drifted from the parchment to the clogged bath and the murky water within. Wrinkling her nose, the pointed her wand at the water and cast a silent Tergeo on a whim to rid the bath of the unnerving liquid. Nothing on the parchment indicated she would find anything there, but she felt the need to. “Across the sea,” she mused while giving the bathroom another scrutinizing look up and down. “Am I meant to assume that means it’s from North America? They have lost items relating to Hogwarts and Illvermory?” But of course dust could not respond to her musings, not that she expected it to to begin with. But would that not just be quaint to have two items representing the schools meant for each champion to find.

The sarcasm was think even in her internal monologue.

Leaving the bathroom and heading out into the large room once again, she walked around the perimeter for the sole purpose of understanding her surroundings and weighing her options. She did take a peek inside the fireplace and even paused to charm her bluebell flames to rise up inside it to illuminate its interior, but ultimately continued around the room. The rotten food made her think of Deathday Parties to be quite honest, but it was a fleeting thought as she kept walking slowly about and into the kitchen. Glancing over her shoulder and swatting one of the bluebell flames away so she could see the parchment more clearly, Valerie reread the hints to the second clue and its location while particularly honing in on the clockwise versus counterclockwise description.

What was that supposed to even mean? Had she already mentioned how much she loathed word riddles and poetry and just this sort of thing in general?

Pinching her brow in agitation once more, she approached the stove specifically. Was this too obvious with the mention of gas? She had helped enough at home in the kitchen to know that a full counterclockwise movement meant the closed direction when it came to gas regulation. But was that not the opposite of what the riddle was saying? Ugh she hated this and she had only been walking around examining things for no more than ten minutes.

Leaving the kitchen for now, Valerie opted to go check out the upstairs next with her bluebell flames and parchment floating alongside her like loyal guard dogs. Muttering to herself (shockingly about how much she hated this) as she ascended the stairs, the stopped when she spotted a grand piano in the middle of the room and a slight spark triggered in her head. Grey eyes quickly looking back to the first clue (whatever the hell pigletted Hogwartians cherished) and reread the bit about the location. The dust covering infernal cough bit meant nothing to her as this entire place fit the description, so she ignored that bit. “...you might need a particular score. Try them all, and you will see. Something is off…” Stepping closer to the piano now, her pale fingers ran lightly over the dust covered keys not yet pressing down on them but did quickly take note that it was missing several. Particular score...musical score...try them all...something is off...meaning that some keys were off or she was going to have to try and tune an old piano?

Ugh. Why could she not just be waging battle with the Whomping Willow right now? That sounded and felt more appealing to the Wampus. Far more appealing.

Starting at one end of the piano, she decided to do just that: push down on every single stupid key and wait to see what happened.

If anything.

Ugh.
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We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
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Old 06-19-2017, 05:42 AM   #15 (permalink)
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After reading the riddle, you are so very cold. And only getting colder...your aloud musings aren’t that farfetched, though, Wampus. Why do you hate riddles so? You seem to be doing just fine so far.

Even if you’re cold...AND THEN VERY WARM!!!!!! Which is funny considering you are near a stove, now.

Dust does seem to be everywhere. It swirls around with every movement, and the smell upstairs is less rotten food and more musky and dank. Stale dust. The piano itself is covered in a thick coating of it, too, and as you tap the keys, dust collects on your fingers and puffs into the air slightly with each motion. If you’re not too busy coughing, you might notice that as you go through the keys, two in a row sound different. The keys all play normally, but those two sound….do they sound….muffled? That just doesn't seem right.

Curious.
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Old 06-19-2017, 02:04 PM   #16 (permalink)

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Slowly and methodically, the Wampus walked her fingers along the keys entirely unfazed by the dust that collected on her pale pads. What did bother her was the collective heaviness in the air from the addition of the dust from the piano. Her lungs were not weak, but there was a growing itchy agitation that she was becoming unable to ignore. Hacking (and eventually spitting on the ground from said hacking), Valerie pointed her wand towards her head. “Sanuspirantes.

Ah. Much better.

But where had she left off on the keys?

Peering at them through her Bubblehead Charm, it was easy to find where she had left off from the tracks her fingerprints had left in the dust, she continued pushing down on keys until she found two keys side-by-side that simply did not go down all the way. It was as though there was something impeding its progress down. Was what she was looking for under these keys? Checking things once again (pressing down on the two keys with her fingers and finding the confirmation she was seeking) she continued down the rest of the keyboard for any other keys that may produce the same muted sound. Valerie’s attention returned to those two keys in question and began weighing her options. Knowing nothing about music, all practical thoughts were gone and instead she was left with a growing agitation. Whatever it was she was seeking was under these keys, yes? Which meant their immediate removal was necessary.

It was purely instinctual and the consideration that she may, perhaps, annihilate the very item she was seeking in the process did not cross her mind. Perhaps it should have, but before common sense could kick in she had flourished her wand at the two piano keys in question with a malevolent and eager sheen to her eyes for a much needed release. Perhaps if she knew how a piano worked she would have realized that it was not something under the keys that was causing the muffled noise, but rather something preventing the hammer from striking the appropriate string (perhaps where the very item in question she was seeking was hiding) but she did not.

Which meant the piano was about to become a casualty of war. So to speak.

Bombarda,” she said coolly as the spell blasted from her wand and sent the piano’s keyboard splintering off in every which direction. In fact, the entire front of the piano was now missing. The blast had even shook loose the lid of the piano from its hinges, performed a bit of a backwards flip off the instrument, and inserted itself in the nearby lounge chair.

Nearly slicing it in half, actually, and its chair’s ‘guts’ billowing out from the embedded wood like thick cotton candy.

Unaffected by the sudden cloud of dust caused by her explosion and actually able to breathe easily, Valerie performed a nonverbal Ventus to push the dark chalky air away more quickly so she could examine the remains of the front of the piano while searching through the rubble on the ground for something cherished. Or whatever that stupid wording had been. She sincerely doubted that whatever it was she was meant to find here would pull at her heart strings.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
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Old 06-19-2017, 06:59 PM   #17 (permalink)
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The bubble-head charm should surely help with the dust problem. Don’t want your sinuses all messed up for the next week or so, do you? Smart.

Oh my. Someone is testy, aren’t they? The crunch of the piano coming apart echoed around the empty, musky room. The back end of the piano looked like a tragic victim, and the lid landed on the chair with a loud RIIIIIIIIP sound as it plunged into the seat. There was something satisfying about it, honestly, but no matter! What you seek isn’t hidden in the keys; there is a small, black flap , though, billowing in the aftermath of the explosion, dangling from within the innard of the piano. It glistened, though old, as if it were exactly what you were supposed to be looking for.

One unfolded, if you decide to pull it out, you might realize what it is. An old, tattered hat.
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Old 06-20-2017, 12:37 AM   #18 (permalink)

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Waving her wand around slowly, the hot air from her charm pushing the debris hanging in the air away and giving her proper visibility of the remains. The destruction was rather satisfactory to be honest. Although she could have done with blowing the entire piano up and it would be those in charge of the tournament’s fault for not administering the proper defensive and protective charms on whatever object to ensure it did not become a casualty of teenage impatience. Her booted foot kicked at some of the keys that had crumbled to the floor, which naturally elicited no results. Although she did kneel down a pick up one of the shattered keys to pocket along with the other vials of potions ingredients. Just a bit of a keepsake with no proper sentimental attachment whatsoever.

Walking around the piano now that most of the dust had settled, the sixteen year old noticed the small back flap and leaned over the edge of the piano without a second thought to pull the brown mass partly protruding from it. “Ah. Of course,” she mused upon full retrieval. Now the riddle made sense. “The Sorting Hat.” Or at least a likeness to it. Surely Hogwarts would not be so foolish as to donate the actual hat for the task? Although her curiosity (not that she was a kneazle) did get the better of her and upon casting a Finite to remove her Bubblehead Charm temporarily had placed the Sorting Hat upon her head. She did not care much for where it felt she belonged at Hogwarts if at all, but she knew this particular hat had been endowed with complicated forms of magic that granted it great skill in Legilimency. If it could actually speak to her, perhaps it could tell her what and where the second object was located.

Waiting just a moment for the hat to animate (or not), the Wampus moved the riddle parchment in front of her face once more to give it another thorough reread. Pigletted friends were not actual pigs but Hogwarts students, that had been what the wording had alluded to and she was rather frustrated with herself for not figuring that out in conjunction with the following line. She had even muttered about the British wizarding community’s keen interest in the word ‘hog’ while in Hogsmeade. Ugh. The rest of the wording went without saying now that the hat was in her possession, but again she grew frustrated with her literal interpretation of the wording and scowled at the word ‘amend’ as her grey eyes glazed over it.

And she had been correct. None of her heart strings were tugged at the sight of the infamous hat.

Across the seas...attach and reattach...does not write...small and beautiful…” she repeated to herself (and the hat on her head) as she began walking around the remaining parts of the second floor she had left unexplored until now. She supposed she could try and cast Reparo on the piano, but her thoughts were drawn elsewhere. Namely to the location of the second item which she still had no solid clue about. A badge? A pin? Those could attach and reattach at the user’s will, but what made either of those especially noteworthy to mention as being from across the seas? A MACUSA badge? She would concern herself with finding the correct location and then fuss about the what just as she had done with the Sorting Hat.

The location was just as frustrating, however, and her previous mullings about clockwise and counterclockwise were still fresh in her mind. Looking around and seeing that the second floor provided her with nothing more than tattered furniture and a fireplace (none of which provided anything that could be turned clockwise nor counterclockwise and risk noxious gas), the sixteen year old finished her circle of the room and walked back down the stairs with her bluebell flames and riddle parchment flanking her sides.

Back down on the first floor and knowing her time surely must be running short now, the Wampus went with her instincts and made her way towards the kitchen. Frustrations were bubbling and it took a lot of willpower not to blast one of the chairs away as she swiftly glided by. “You are no help,” she muttered to the hat when she stepped into the kitchen and looked around. Knowing that her soon-to-be reckless experimentation would likely release the noxious gas mentioned in the riddle, her wand was pointed once more at her head and the Bubblehead Charm re-administered around herself and the Sorting Hat. Eyes naturally fell on the stove first and its unlit burners as well as the oven door below.

Using her foot to pull open the oven door by the handle and peeking inside (nothing of any note within, she assumed) she quickly shifted her attention to the knobs. Surely she was overthinking this clockwise and counterclockwise methodology, surely. But it only made sense that this be the location. Turn on a functional burner too quickly and the flames would lick and deface the wall behind it. Shrugging and with no other option at the moment, Valerie reached out and began turning the knobs on the stove slowly in whichever direction they were willing to rotate.

Maybe she would need to blow the stove up too? It had worked wonderfully with the piano.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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Old 06-20-2017, 05:16 AM   #19 (permalink)
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You have successfully found the first object, Ilvermornian! Congratulations! Your quest is almost over. Just a bit more thinking and searching, and you are finished. The Sorting Hat slides down your face only slightly, seemingly inanimate. The riddle should lead you in the right direction. Don’t worry about the piano; indeed, a casualty of war. All will be taken care of.

“You aren’t a Hogwarts student….”

The voice is one that pronounces every vowel, is British, and has a low tone to it. It almost vibrates atop your head.

But a curious mind you have up here...plenty of cleverness, yes...stubborn, though, girl. Stubborn. There is much anger in you….” the hat trails off, growing quiet. It stays quite secure on your head even as you make your way to the kitchen, towards the oven and stove. You fiddle with the knobs, and as the thought passes your mind, the hat is alive once more.

Do not blow up the oven…...how foolish of a move it would be. It isn’t necessary, not when counter-clockwise and clockwise are mentioned….you already have the answers you desire….” the hat speaks slowly once again. The voice somewhat even sounds like it could be coming from your head; it isn’t, but almost.

The knobs on the stove all look identical except for one; it is glossy where the others are fill of dust. Little fires flicker up in the burners at some of the turning, and other times, the click of the knob filling the stove with gas signals you should quickly turn it off. The one glossy knob doesn’t work. Take note.

“Curious, isn’t it. You know what this means….”
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Old 06-20-2017, 02:02 PM   #20 (permalink)

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She had somehow managed to ignore the first few thoughts spoken directly into her head as her attention was on either the parchment or her turning and twisting of the knobs, but when she was cautioned against blowing up the stove (which was what all her frustrations were telling her to do) she actually began paying attention. “That was you?” she unnecessarily spoke aloud to the hat. She even paused a moment to remove it just to take a better look at its front before returning it to her head. It was easier to keep track of like this and kept her hands free as well. Her comment was, of course, in relation to being called stubborn (which she knew) and with much anger (which she also knew). This hat was supposed to tell you the deep inner workings of your mind, no? So why was it insisting on telling her things she already knew?

…………..or vague statements that were of no real benefit to the Wampus whatsoever?

How unnecessarily insufferable.

You already have the answers my ----” The sound (seeing as her Bubblehead Charm prevented external smells from influencing her still heightened senses) of gas leaking out and small flames signaled for her to twist that particular knob in the opposite direction to turn it off. The hat placing emphasis on the clockwise and counterclockwise was less enlightening than the small flames that flickered on and off from the burners. Flicking her wand to bring the parchment back in view for her to read again (mostly the part the hat claimed gave her all the answers) and pinched the bridge of her nose.

She was about to give the Sorting Hat another piece of her mind (like where to stick its opinions) when she actually gave the knobs a methodical look over and finally noticed that one of these things was not like the other one. Brushing her dust covered hand off on her pants, Valerie returned to the glossy knob and turned it clockwise to confirm that, yup, nothing happened. Eyeing the burners as she turned it counterclockwise, her brow arched inquisitively when absolutely nothing happened in this direction either.

That this knob is about as worthless as you are?” she retorted, her eyes rolling upwards in her head to look at the brim of the old leather hat (certainly had a theme of selectively animated sentient objects going on here). Twisting the knob back and forth a few more times aggressively, the sixteen year old began tugging and pushing down on it in attempt to jiggle it loose from its unnatural confinement. Clearly this had not been here all along and was a recent addition considering how clean it was (unless this was the one item they had elected to charm) and if she supposedly had all the answers she required already then surely this was meant to come off?

Her mind was still considering the what, particularly now that she had confirmed the where. He thoughts were still shifting towards a pin or broach (something of that variety) and her thoughts did linger on the gold Gordian Knot that fastened her school robes due to its historical significance and association with one of the school’s founders, Isolt Sayre. Small, beautiful, attach and re-attachable, related to Ilvermorny considering Hogwarts' representation was now adorning her head...

But first she had to deal with this stupid knob.

Planting one of her combat booted feet against the side of the stove for additional leverage, she gripped it with both hands and pulled back on it hard with the aim to tug it free.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
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Old 06-20-2017, 09:05 PM   #21 (permalink)
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The Sorting Hat grew quiet; perhaps it doesn’t like being insulted. “Unfortunately for you, Valerie Gray, I do not have the human anatomy in order to stick anything anywhere,” is all it replies. There is no response to your inquiry about worthlessness.

The knob is coming loose. You heave backwards with your foot on the stove, but this much force is highly unnecessary. It pops off, probably forcing you backward quite a bit since you used a loooooot of energy for that. The hat cackles in your ears.

The knob slowly starts to morph...into….Isolt Sayre’s brooch. The Gordian Knot becomes more visible, and it seems….you have just found the second and last item.

“Well done.” The hat lears.
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Old 06-21-2017, 03:46 AM   #22 (permalink)

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Legilimency.

Maybe she ought to remove this ratty hat from her head before she blasted it into oblivion because its commentary was becoming less and less endearing by the second. She had never found it to be so from the start but a certain growing itch was continuing to cause her fingers to twitch around her cherry wood wand. The banter now was reminding her of the cool retorts of a certain Thunderbird that she would much rather not be thinking of in this moment. “You do not require a human anatomy,” she muttered. Point case being that her head was currently inserted within its folds. “Historically, have things not been pulled from you? Had to be stuck in there somehow.

She really needed to stop arguing with a hat. It was only riling her up and drawing focus from the task at hand.

Bending more at the knee as she pulled back on the knob, she gave one more firm pull and kicked off at the same time. Something that was apparently and entirely unnecessary as it came loose with relative ease. Cursing as she lost her balance, the Wampus stumbled backwards and easily lost her balance and fell backwards onto her rear. Momentum propelled her further back and slide her across the floor, only coming to a stop when her back crashed into one of the cabinets holding dust covered dishes and glasses. She was actually grateful for the insufferable leather mass upon her head as one porcelain bowl fell from the topmost shelf and directly atop her head. It blunted the blow well enough. Glass and porcelain shattering on the floor around her, Valerie reached for the knob that had come free of her hand in the tussle and accidently grabbed a piece of jagged broken glass in the process.

Aaaargh,” she barked as she pulled her hand away quickly and stuck her wand between her bared teeth to reach out with the other hand to grab it when she found there was no knob to be found, but instead her musings about the potential appearance of the Ilvermornian artifact proven correct. Although she had simply considered it to be a broach and not the broach, but something in this moment (perhaps because she had been wearing a certain enchanted object upon on her) made her feel otherwise. Her eyes rolled back in her head once more to look up at the Sorting Hat when it mocked her (because that was how she was electing to understand the praise at the moment) she clutched the Gordian Knot in her nonbleeding hand and turned it over carefully with her fingers. “The golden broach of Isolt Sayre’s mother,” she said to herself while ignoring the dull throb in her other hand. Rionach Sayre was someone who stood out and clung to the sixth year’s memory from the textbook, mostly due to her martyr status (in the Wampus’ eyes at least) for her sympathies and deeds (administering magical cures for humans and livestock both) for No-Maj. For people like herself.

Removing the Sorting Hat from her head and setting it on her lap, she was too deep in thought to notice the crimson stain upon the leather from her own hand’s doing. Rionach Sayre was a descendent of Salazar Slytherin as she recalled. One of the founders of Hogwarts and then her daughter became one of the founders of Ilvermorny. It was an uncanny association and interesting (she supposed) to consider that their two schools were actually connected by bloodlines. Continuing to turn the broach over in her hand for a few more moments, her eyes shifted to the floating parchment still lingering around the stove. “Attach and reattach,” she repeated to herself and looked back at the .Gordian Knot broach. It was a literal interpretation but she was not keen on shoving this artifact in her pocket with the piano key and other potions vials. Unfastening the back of the brooch, Valerie physically connected the two magical artefacts to one another and fastened it to the brim of the Sorting Hat before setting it back on her head.

So now what?” she demanded of the hat, her injured hand clutched tightly into a fist and momentarily forgotten.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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Old 06-21-2017, 04:54 PM   #23 (permalink)
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Join Date: Aug 2006
Location: Hogwarts
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Hogwarts RPG Name:
The Narrator
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follow me; everything is all right.

The hat grows quiet. You are unraveling your focus, Wampus. And as much as the banter is amusing, the hat has no desire to hinder your quest.

“And now….you wait.” The hat whispers.

A sharp jolt suddenly tugs at you. All you can see is white, bright light in every direction. Certainly you didn’t die; you were merely standing there with the Sorting Hat on your head and the brooch in your hand. Nothing perilous had happened! The next second, though, you feel yourself laying on a bed. A Department of Mysteries employee greets you when you open your eyes to find yourself in a large white room, the other competitors sleeping in beds around you.

Any injuries inflicted during this challenge may or may not be bothering you. You have just woken up from an elaborate, magically modified daydream. The Ministry employee tells you that you are free to go down to the stands where everyone is watching the rest of the competitors (and previously you) compete against the Willow, and then in the Shack. Do you need medical attention? Your scores will be shown shortly.



OOC: You may now look at the viewing area and/or other competitors' threads.
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Last edited by The Narrator; 06-22-2017 at 01:36 AM.
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Old 06-22-2017, 01:49 AM   #24 (permalink)

Wampus
Puffskein
 
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Join Date: May 2017
Posts: 1,110

Hogwarts RPG Name:
Valerie Gray
Sixth Year
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Wait. Had the hat not seen by now that patience was not something that Valerie Gray was in possession of at the moment? Worst was not knowing what exactly she was waiting for. Rolling her eyes and pushing herself up off the ground with both her hands now that the brooch was attached to the hat, the sixteen year old gripped her wand a bit more firmly and turned her eyes towards the door. Boxed in. She felt boxed in in this small kitchen space and rather than stand around doing nothing she would rather be moving. But just as she moved to take a step the jolt came and everything was spinning until she felt her back seemingly fall against a cushioned surface. The blow nearly knocked the wind out of her and her eyes flew open with a loud gasp (as though she had been holding her breath and lungs were begging for air).

And then she felt sick from the whiplash. A whiplash that she had not even begun to process and all she could see was white.

Suddenly rolling over onto her side, the Wampus’ shoulders heaved and her mouth became agape in an attempt to vomit. She could just barely hear the Ministry official’s greeting over her own wheezings and before she had the time to even offer them a sideways glare she was no longer dry vomiting. Discolored liquid spilled on to the floor and she moved to wipe her mouth with the sleeve covering the hand she had previously injured on broken glass. Only now there was no injury. “What the hell?” she groaned as she rolled a bit more onto her stomach. It felt as though she had taken a serious blow playing Quadpot. Like the Quod had exploded right in her hands and in her face.

Still feeling disoriented she sat up a bit more and looked at her hand confused. And then the words of the Ministry official crept into her ears and she was glaring at him. Her fist thrust out in his direction (assuming she was still clutching her wand which she was not as it was resting on the bedside table waiting for her to wake) with a threatening look in her eyes and tightly clenched jaw. Her grey eyes flickered towards the regurgitated liquid on the floor (what was that?) and then suddenly something clicked.

And then she was furious.

At least now she understood why she was able to ignore the deep cut in her hand since it had not been real. Although her hands did shove into the pockets of her pants for the vials only to find that they were empty. There was a mixed reaction to this: one being she was relieved that no rare ingredients had come to waste from the thrashings of the Whomping Willow but the other being upset because her efforts collecting were in vain.

She was even more done with the methods of manipulation this IMPS insisted upon utilizing (but perhaps not as done as she had been with the conclusion of the first task). She felt the fool right now and it was taking what little resolve she had left not to blow something up. The satisfaction she had felt doing so to the piano (in apparently a dream reality) was in need of an encore performance. Moaning and cursing as she slowly swung her legs around and planted them firmly on the ground (only offering the remaining competitors a cursory look over because she did not want to think about how she had once again been duped and in such a vulnerable state at that) she stood and pushed through the dizzy feeling that took hold. Her wand was snatched from the bedside table and then she left for the stands before she could do or say something that she would maybe regret.
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I have a heart that gets on everybody's nerves ; They don't want the truth, they just want the words
We were born kicking and screaming................................................Until we learned to turn it down
Took our dreams and got in line.................................................. ...Held our breath and hoped to die
FADE ON
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