Wizarding World RPG Admin Minister for Magic

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Hogwarts RPG Name: Briallen Ashburry-Hawthorne Gryffindor Second Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Second Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Diamond Marchbanks Gryffindor Seventh Year Ministry Department Head:
Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head:
Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor:
Zachaël Lufkin Owl Post
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| astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK | & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Nyle lingered at the edge of the Great Hall for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the golden candlelight drifting above and the bursts of Gryffindor colors dancing upon the banners scattered in neat rows along the enchanted ceiling. There was a kind of shimmer in the air...a weight of endings and beginnings. The Hufflepuff table was already buzzing with laughter and stories tumbling out too fast to catch, but instead of rushing in, he paused, taking it all in. It was the last time these particular stories, these particular feelings, and these particular faces would come together in just this way and that alone made it worth the extra time to soak it all up.
This term had been… full. That was the best word for it the second year could think of. There had been hippogriffs, OF COURSE, and Waterwings most of all, with his regal feathered presence and those impossibly deep eyes. Nyle could still remember how nervous he’d been the first time they met, how he'd bowed, heart rattling against his ribs, only for Waterwings to return the gesture like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then there’d been the brushes (testing them one by one, as if he were choosing a wand for himself and not something to groom a hippogriff), the quiet moments in the pastures, learning to notice things like feather wear and shifts in gait, just like how his mum, in her work as a physiatrist, taught him to look for subtle signs of pain in people recovering from Dark magic. He’d thought of her a lot this term—especially when reflecting on how living things change. The idea of the older Hippogriffs leaving for the Atreyu-Rehman Reserve still didn't upset him. It just seemed… right. Like a seed finally growing into something bigger than its pot.
Just like the seventh years who needed bigger pots than the castle could provide them.
He tucked those thoughts away as he moved towards the Hufflepuff table, sliding into a spot with a little bounce in his step. Fourth place in the House Cup and Quidditch Cup? He wasn’t bothered but he wasn't exactly the most competitive spirited kid either. They’d all tried their best, you know? Every quiz, every match, every moment cheering from the stands. And, well, they’d come in third in Gobstones, which was something! Nyle had worked hard for that one, even if his technique was still a bit messy sometimes but he was improving every practice and every match under the guidance of his teammates and especially under the wing of Raven Snowpear. He was proud of their team even if he wasn't robust about it. Quiet pride counted too, especially when it came in the form of homemade hand salves! Using Raven's favorite scene of bergamot and clove, Nyle had blended calendula, comfrey, and beeswax for soothing post-match skin regime —especially after the occasional splash of stinger gunk. Warm, citrusy-spiced aroma that lingered just long enough to feel like encouragement in a jar and also served as a reminder to just how amazing their captain had been. He was going to miss her SO much.
And speaking of people he would miss, his eyes landed on Dynah already at the table, glowing with that golden kind of goodbye light and e hurried over with a grin while holding out a tiny glass jar wrapped in ribbon the color of buttercup petals. "I made you something," he said, cheeks immediately a little pink. "It’s a soothing salve—safe for everything from bruised hands to sore hearts. All the herbs are from the greenhouse, or the forest, erm, just the outskirts of the forest… and there’s a bit of chamomile, marigold, and hawthorn in it. You know, for calm and courage." He paused, thumb brushing a corner of the ribbon. "It’s not much, but… it felt wrong not to make something to mark it. You leaving, I mean. Not in a sad way," he added quickly, "just… like when a dandelion seed finally takes flight so it can grow somewhere else. It’s meant to happen. Still special though." He looked up at her, eyes earnest. "You’ve done a lot of growing here. It shows. Er...I mean...I've only known you two of your terms here but, um, it still shows even then. You’re going to do really brilliant things."
__________________  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 |