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sweetpinkpixie · 11-19-2018, 01:28 AM

He was not sure if it was self defense, but the sixth year felt numb as he made his way down to the lake with the box holding the body of the bowtruckle of Aster clutched in his hands. It had been...excruciating show her body to the rest of her family trapped in that barn. Almost as difficult had been telling Picketta that no, she could not just so happen to be release from the barn and permitted to scamper across the grounds to the man's tent and scratch his eyes out. Though he had, for the sake of this funeral, allowed the bowtruckles to crawl into his enchanted pocket for a short trip down to the lake. If he got detention for this...so be it. He had every intention of throwing his badge into the lake after anyway. He didn't want to be in the service of a school who replaced professors with monsters like Petrov.

So it was in a bit of a daze as he walked by the two Slytherins and his head of house, tears silently trickling down his cheeks as he looked down into the box. "I'm so...so so so sorry...." he whispered to his fallen friend. He wished he could fix her up somehow, make her at least whole instead of practically in pieces for burial, but he did not have the means to that and the mourning bowtruckles in his pocket wanted to lay her to rest sooner than later.

Though, as if representing a beacon of light, Derf's faded blue eyes fell upon his professor at the last second thanks to his peripheral vision and he was pivoting around suddenly. "Professor," his pleaded, his voice strained and barely holding it together - his trembling hands even more of an indication of this. Whether that tremble was from trauma or rage was, well, up to debate. "Professor...do you have any essence of dittany on you? Please. Just one drop...I-I-I-I just...I just want her to look more like herself before we bury her..."

And just then, several leafy green heads popped their heads out of his robes pocket to watch the scene.

11-19-2018, 01:28 AM	#30 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie Wizarding World RPG Admin Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Romanian Longhorn Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 39,823 Hogwarts RPG Name: Briallen Ashburry-Hawthorne Gryffindor First Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Second Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Second Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin First Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Diamond Marchbanks Gryffindor Sixth Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Zachaël Lufkin Owl Post x12 x12	Maxton, Skylar, & NOBLE astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf He was not sure if it was self defense, but the sixth year felt numb as he made his way down to the lake with the box holding the body of the bowtruckle of Aster clutched in his hands. It had been...excruciating show her body to the rest of her family trapped in that barn. Almost as difficult had been telling Picketta that no, she could not just so happen to be release from the barn and permitted to scamper across the grounds to the man's tent and scratch his eyes out. Though he had, for the sake of this funeral, allowed the bowtruckles to crawl into his enchanted pocket for a short trip down to the lake. If he got detention for this...so be it. He had every intention of throwing his badge into the lake after anyway. He didn't want to be in the service of a school who replaced professors with monsters like Petrov. So it was in a bit of a daze as he walked by the two Slytherins and his head of house, tears silently trickling down his cheeks as he looked down into the box. "I'm so...so so so sorry...." he whispered to his fallen friend. He wished he could fix her up somehow, make her at least whole instead of practically in pieces for burial, but he did not have the means to that and the mourning bowtruckles in his pocket wanted to lay her to rest sooner than later. Though, as if representing a beacon of light, Derf's faded blue eyes fell upon his professor at the last second thanks to his peripheral vision and he was pivoting around suddenly. "*Professor," his pleaded, his voice strained and barely holding it together - his trembling hands even more of an indication of this. Whether that tremble was from trauma or rage was, well, up to debate. "Professor...do you have any essence of dittany on you? Please. Just one drop...I-I-I-I just...I just want her to look more like herself before we bury her..." And just then, several leafy green heads popped their heads out of his robes pocket to watch the scene. __________________ 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