 can assume he portkey'd back unless someone wants to officially escort us <3 astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK | & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf
His knees were bruised and throbbing, cheeks hot and moist from the small trickle of emotional exhaustion seeping from his eyes, and knuckles white from gripping his wand so tightly. The distant pops of those portkeying and apparating back to Hogwarts were muted at best, hardly audible over the pounding beat of his heart in his ears. Bright blues keenly fixated on Professor Williams, Derf barely registered the Headmistress' look - though he distractedly caught her movements out of the corner of his eye.
It was only THEN that he noticed the woman had been bound by ropes, so perhaps hurting a spell at her to throw up slugs was a little inhumane...but then he remembered all that had come to pass last term. The play. Seeing his friends cursed, BURNING on the inside, and he had very ugly thoughts for the first time in his young life. Slugs, magically created or otherwise, were too good and pure to be coming out of something so vile as the likes of her.
Lips curling into a snarl, Derf finally pulled himself up from the ground just in time her the Potions Master, HIS Potions Master speaking to the other professors...and his question was JUST enough to lull the Hufflepuff from his feelings of violation and fury to take a staggering few steps back towards them. "They did something," he almost spat, but his voice was quivering far too much to have that full effect. "He...the Ilvermorny Potions professor...he blew something from a box at her...I saw it...before..." Well, the rest was obvious, yeah? Derf couldn't quite bring himself to speak it presently. Also, he was trying NOT to cry because wearing the badge meant you couldn't in times like this, right? Though the evidence of such was clearly displayed on his cheeks and clinging to his lashes.
And then news of the Ministry being on it's way rang in his ears...and all he could think about was how he wanted his dad. Also how furious his dad would be with all this...including the boy's own actions. At least the man was no longer the department head over at Accidents & Catastrophes now, there was a mild silver lining in that. Maybe.
Hands balling up into little fists, the fourth year looked around dejectedly for a portkey to take a hold of...or any lingering professor to side-along apparate with. He wasn't particularly fussed either way. Scamander was lost, his morals compromised, and this nagging feeling of contamination from being...controlled - which was the conclusion he had come to at this point with his gap in memory and stuff - had his heart heavy and spirit broken.
He just wanted to go home.
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When you’re stuck in a moment and your spark has been stolen .................................................. ...........
this is our time to own it, so own it.....................................
baby we were born with fire and gold in our eyes |