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Lady Mouldywart · 01-02-2013, 03:35 PM

Ok, finally done! It's quite silly, be warned. But hopefully the last silly chapter in a long while. I didn't plan on making such a long intro to the actual story but it happened anyway. But this chap's not that long since the Ball is pretty visited when it comes to ff writing and rping, so it's pretty predictable. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think! Thanks, as always, for being patient!

PS you can skip the first part if you've already read it.

-----

Chapter 17 - Yuletide

The door to the Owlery jolted open and small chips of ice cascaded down onto Amara’s hair as she stepped onto the snow-strewn stone floor, more ice and owl droppings crunching beneath her boots. The glassless windows and perches were nearly void of owls, since most were off to deliver last-minute Christmas greetings to families and friends, but a few rather small ones were left, some sleeping peacefully beneath the warmth of their wings, others hooting quietly on their perches.

A coffee-brown screech fluttered down from its perch and held out her leg for Amara to tie her letter, one she’d been meaning to send for a while now. She looked down to check it a last time; it was carefully written and pinned to the inside of a Christmas card depicting a clump of owls flying over a very snowy Hogsmeade, the people in the street below occasionally looking up and waving at the airborne camera capturing them at their shopping.

Dear Ms Piggons,

My first day at St Nicholas, a tall blonde woman sat down to talk with you at the entrance in the early morning, shooing me away so I wouldn’t eavesdrop, and now it’s been six years since I left. I can bet you a lot of these letters come flying your way after all the years you’ve been Matron, but I'll try not to bore you too much with details.

I’ll be leaving school next year and I’ve definitely been thinking a lot about before, so I wanted to ask how everything’s been lately. Everyone I knew from St Nicholas has been at Hogwarts the past few years and seeing how they’ve all changed really made me think. Do you remember Lenny, who got adopted a few years before I did? He’s a third year now, and apparently already has a girlfriend. Dita never changed, and Tim has slightly recovered from his tendency to set things on fire, but they come back to the orphanage on holidays so you know all that. And I guess Dita might have told you my parents sent me to Durmstrang the past five years, but right now I’m staying with the other Durmstrang students at Hogwarts to watch the Tournament, and I’ve been thinking - since I’m of age now, I could change schools and spend my last year here.

I’d love to meet up, talk about old times and stuff, if you'd like. There’s a Hogsmeade trip on the 18th of January. Could you make it at two at The Three Broomsticks there?

Hope everyone’s having a great Christmas, and I hope to see you soon.

Amara

She tied the letter to the owl’s leg and it swept off. For a few minutes Amara stood by a window and watched as the owl disappeared in a mass of white clouds. The sky was white with shots of peach, as it had been the past few weeks. Below, the lights at the ship’s portholes were turning on, and Amara could just imagine the look on Karina’s face as she leapt out of bed to her presents, possible upsetting a jar or two of Bluebell Flames in the process.

Signs of movement were coming from the Beauxbatons carriage too, and Amara could faintly hear Madame Maxime’s voice ordering the students loudly about in French. A little ahead, Hagrid seemed to have just finished tending to the carriage horses and was marching, with a slight bounce in his walk, up to the carriage, holding a bunch of flowers in one hand and a blue package in the other.

Amara turned round to leave, wanting to get to some gift-opening herself. A strong gust of wind followed her out of the owlery as she shut the door behind her, the faint smell of Christmas pudding and toffees filtering through the corridor. The house-elves must have spent the whole night cooking, Amara thought, as one tiny elf dashed past out of nowhere, covered in flour and carrying a pile of packages with both hands, cursing herself loudly for forgetting to owl them earlier.

It was ten minutes later that Amara finally found the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the first floor, stuck her wand up the warlock’s right nostril, and the wall behind it moved to one side, leaving an entrance pointing directly to the Durmstrang ship in the Lake. The wall moved back into place as she dashed down the path, eager to be inside again; she was wearing just her pyjamas under the cloak, and the cold was making her brain hurt.

*

‘Shouldn’ yeh be goin’ soon? ‘S about ter start, yeh know.’

Hagrid’s wide stature was easily discernible even against the inky evening sky as he made his way up the path towards them, wearing a shaggy brown coat to match his unruly beard and a rather conspicuous yellow tie. He carried a large crate which had ‘Whitsitt’s Single Malt Scotch Whiskey’ written in brown cursive on the side.

‘Hey, Hagrid. Is that for us?’ Fred said, calmly stuffing his brother Ron’s shirt with snow while the latter struggled to break free. (‘Gerroff! Harry, do something!’)

‘Nah, tha’ stuff’s too strong. ‘S fer the carriage horses, actually. I was on me way there ter meet up with – ahem – oh, by the way, Harry, champions should be there a few minutes earlier, Professor McGonagall told yeh that, didn’ she?’

‘Yeah. Actually I think we’d better get going, it’s already past seven. Coming Ron?’ He fell into step with Hagrid and looked back with a grin at Ron, who was now half-buried in a cloud of snow, arms flailing, shouting insults at his twin brothers.

Amara and Karina were watching in the background, sitting on a large rock, both looking rather like melted snowmen after spending the last hour getting pelted in the face with snow.

*

The benches surrounding the courtyard were mostly vacant, instead trickles of giggling couples were choosing to hide away behind the rose bushes, circled by flocks of real multicolour fairies. The stone reindeers were coated in snow, small icicles forming on their noses and ears. A fountain of streaming water in the middle was mingling with the noise issuing from inside the castle.

The Weird Sisters’ new single resounded off the walls of the Entrance Hall, shaking the wooden locks of the open front door and clashing with the slightly rude adaptations of carols Peeves had taught the suits of armour. There were several trees along the walls and the staircase in the centre was bedecked with tinsel and low-sounding bells.

The din was so loud that it was almost impossible to hear one’s own voice over it, until with one final chord the song ended and a slower, softer tune took its place. Inside the Great Hall, a large part of the crowd broke off and went back to their tables where the empty plates had disappeared.

‘Zis song ees one of their worst. Ah! Eef only we ‘ad Philomene Dechanson come and a group of real dancairs. I used to ‘ave ballroom dancing when I was eight, did you know?’

‘Really? Oh, that is – interesting.’

Amara noticed that Karina had lost most of the enthusiasm in her voice after having had to make small talk for the past half hour with their two Beauxbatons partners who mostly talked about themselves. She took a sip of her Firewhisky and looked meaningfully at Amara. They got up almost in synchronisation.

‘Well, since you’re not dancing…’ Karina said, searching for the right words.

‘See you later,’ Amara finished.

They dashed off without waiting, feeling rather cheeky, like they’d just said an abrupt punch line to a boring joke. The band had just started on a fast waltz and around them couples were revolving steadily on the spot under white lights. Ginny was a little ahead, dancing rather self-consciously with the boy she’d told them about at dinner but whose name Amara couldn’t remember right. She couldn’t catch sight of the others.

‘Hey, Amara, look.’

She turned to Karina, eyes widening for a second before bursting into a fit of giggles. Karina had somehow charmed a lovely black moustache onto her face and was looking pompously down her nose at Amara. She struck up a horrible French accent, clashing with her own Norwegian one.

‘Mhay I offehr you zis dhance?’

‘Oh I’ll gladly accept, fine gentleman.’

Maybe it was the glass of Firewhisky taking effect, but they couldn’t stop giggling as they twirled and turned, slightly out of synch with the rest, drawing weird looks at Karina’s well-tended handlebar whiskers. They nearly collided with the other dancers a few times, and decided to slow down, starting to regret having worn heels.

The Beauxbatons boys had left the table, Amara saw, as they stopped to catch their breath, and now it seated George and Alicia, who looked pretty absorbed in conversation.

‘You two are quite the dancers, aren’t you?’

They turned their heads to see who had spoken. Amara saw Karina fumble with her wand to charm off the moustache. There were two, probably seventh-year boys standing next to them, and an upbeat rock tune starting to play.

-----

01-02-2013, 03:35 PM	#224 (permalink)
Lady Mouldywart Gnome Join Date: Aug 2011 Posts: 276 First Year	Ok, finally done! It's quite silly, be warned. But hopefully the last silly chapter in a long while. I didn't plan on making such a long intro to the actual story but it happened anyway. But this chap's not that long since the Ball is pretty visited when it comes to ff writing and rping, so it's pretty predictable. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think! Thanks, as always, for being patient! PS you can skip the first part if you've already read it. ----- Chapter 17 - Yuletide The door to the Owlery jolted open and small chips of ice cascaded down onto Amara’s hair as she stepped onto the snow-strewn stone floor, more ice and owl droppings crunching beneath her boots. The glassless windows and perches were nearly void of owls, since most were off to deliver last-minute Christmas greetings to families and friends, but a few rather small ones were left, some sleeping peacefully beneath the warmth of their wings, others hooting quietly on their perches. A coffee-brown screech fluttered down from its perch and held out her leg for Amara to tie her letter, one she’d been meaning to send for a while now. She looked down to check it a last time; it was carefully written and pinned to the inside of a Christmas card depicting a clump of owls flying over a very snowy Hogsmeade, the people in the street below occasionally looking up and waving at the airborne camera capturing them at their shopping. Dear Ms Piggons, My first day at St Nicholas, a tall blonde woman sat down to talk with you at the entrance in the early morning, shooing me away so I wouldn’t eavesdrop, and now it’s been six years since I left. I can bet you a lot of these letters come flying your way after all the years you’ve been Matron, but I'll try not to bore you too much with details. I’ll be leaving school next year and I’ve definitely been thinking a lot about before, so I wanted to ask how everything’s been lately. Everyone I knew from St Nicholas has been at Hogwarts the past few years and seeing how they’ve all changed really made me think. Do you remember Lenny, who got adopted a few years before I did? He’s a third year now, and apparently already has a girlfriend. Dita never changed, and Tim has slightly recovered from his tendency to set things on fire, but they come back to the orphanage on holidays so you know all that. And I guess Dita might have told you my parents sent me to Durmstrang the past five years, but right now I’m staying with the other Durmstrang students at Hogwarts to watch the Tournament, and I’ve been thinking - since I’m of age now, I could change schools and spend my last year here. I’d love to meet up, talk about old times and stuff, if you'd like. There’s a Hogsmeade trip on the 18th of January. Could you make it at two at The Three Broomsticks there? Hope everyone’s having a great Christmas, and I hope to see you soon. Amara She tied the letter to the owl’s leg and it swept off. For a few minutes Amara stood by a window and watched as the owl disappeared in a mass of white clouds. The sky was white with shots of peach, as it had been the past few weeks. Below, the lights at the ship’s portholes were turning on, and Amara could just imagine the look on Karina’s face as she leapt out of bed to her presents, possible upsetting a jar or two of Bluebell Flames in the process. Signs of movement were coming from the Beauxbatons carriage too, and Amara could faintly hear Madame Maxime’s voice ordering the students loudly about in French. A little ahead, Hagrid seemed to have just finished tending to the carriage horses and was marching, with a slight bounce in his walk, up to the carriage, holding a bunch of flowers in one hand and a blue package in the other. Amara turned round to leave, wanting to get to some gift-opening herself. A strong gust of wind followed her out of the owlery as she shut the door behind her, the faint smell of Christmas pudding and toffees filtering through the corridor. The house-elves must have spent the whole night cooking, Amara thought, as one tiny elf dashed past out of nowhere, covered in flour and carrying a pile of packages with both hands, cursing herself loudly for forgetting to owl them earlier. It was ten minutes later that Amara finally found the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the first floor, stuck her wand up the warlock’s right nostril, and the wall behind it moved to one side, leaving an entrance pointing directly to the Durmstrang ship in the Lake. The wall moved back into place as she dashed down the path, eager to be inside again; she was wearing just her pyjamas under the cloak, and the cold was making her brain hurt. * ‘Shouldn’ yeh be goin’ soon? ‘S about ter start, yeh know.’ Hagrid’s wide stature was easily discernible even against the inky evening sky as he made his way up the path towards them, wearing a shaggy brown coat to match his unruly beard and a rather conspicuous yellow tie. He carried a large crate which had ‘Whitsitt’s Single Malt Scotch Whiskey’ written in brown cursive on the side. ‘Hey, Hagrid. Is that for us?’ Fred said, calmly stuffing his brother Ron’s shirt with snow while the latter struggled to break free. (‘Gerroff! Harry, do something!’) ‘Nah, tha’ stuff’s too strong. ‘S fer the carriage horses, actually. I was on me way there ter meet up with – ahem – oh, by the way, Harry, champions should be there a few minutes earlier, Professor McGonagall told yeh that, didn’ she?’ ‘Yeah. Actually I think we’d better get going, it’s already past seven. Coming Ron?’ He fell into step with Hagrid and looked back with a grin at Ron, who was now half-buried in a cloud of snow, arms flailing, shouting insults at his twin brothers. Amara and Karina were watching in the background, sitting on a large rock, both looking rather like melted snowmen after spending the last hour getting pelted in the face with snow. * The benches surrounding the courtyard were mostly vacant, instead trickles of giggling couples were choosing to hide away behind the rose bushes, circled by flocks of real multicolour fairies. The stone reindeers were coated in snow, small icicles forming on their noses and ears. A fountain of streaming water in the middle was mingling with the noise issuing from inside the castle. The Weird Sisters’ new single resounded off the walls of the Entrance Hall, shaking the wooden locks of the open front door and clashing with the slightly rude adaptations of carols Peeves had taught the suits of armour. There were several trees along the walls and the staircase in the centre was bedecked with tinsel and low-sounding bells. The din was so loud that it was almost impossible to hear one’s own voice over it, until with one final chord the song ended and a slower, softer tune took its place. Inside the Great Hall, a large part of the crowd broke off and went back to their tables where the empty plates had disappeared. ‘Zis song ees one of their worst. Ah! Eef only we ‘ad Philomene Dechanson come and a group of real dancairs. I used to ‘ave ballroom dancing when I was eight, did you know?’ ‘Really? Oh, that is – interesting.’ Amara noticed that Karina had lost most of the enthusiasm in her voice after having had to make small talk for the past half hour with their two Beauxbatons partners who mostly talked about themselves. She took a sip of her Firewhisky and looked meaningfully at Amara. They got up almost in synchronisation. ‘Well, since you’re not dancing…’ Karina said, searching for the right words. ‘See you later,’ Amara finished. They dashed off without waiting, feeling rather cheeky, like they’d just said an abrupt punch line to a boring joke. The band had just started on a fast waltz and around them couples were revolving steadily on the spot under white lights. Ginny was a little ahead, dancing rather self-consciously with the boy she’d told them about at dinner but whose name Amara couldn’t remember right. She couldn’t catch sight of the others. ‘Hey, Amara, look.’ She turned to Karina, eyes widening for a second before bursting into a fit of giggles. Karina had somehow charmed a lovely black moustache onto her face and was looking pompously down her nose at Amara. She struck up a horrible French accent, clashing with her own Norwegian one. ‘Mhay I offehr you zis dhance?’ ‘Oh I’ll gladly accept, fine gentleman.’ Maybe it was the glass of Firewhisky taking effect, but they couldn’t stop giggling as they twirled and turned, slightly out of synch with the rest, drawing weird looks at Karina’s well-tended handlebar whiskers. They nearly collided with the other dancers a few times, and decided to slow down, starting to regret having worn heels. The Beauxbatons boys had left the table, Amara saw, as they stopped to catch their breath, and now it seated George and Alicia, who looked pretty absorbed in conversation. ‘You two are quite the dancers, aren’t you?’ They turned their heads to see who had spoken. Amara saw Karina fumble with her wand to charm off the moustache. There were two, probably seventh-year boys standing next to them, and an upbeat rock tune starting to play. ----- __________________ The Eighth Horcrux SA13+ - Click anywhere over here to read ^.^ Last edited by Lady Mouldywart; 01-02-2013 at 06:56 PM.