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Next-Generation HPRP, part the eleventh
Eleventh rhymes with...
Eleventh rhymes with seventh, haha.
Anyway, the next thread for our next-generation HP roleplay. Er, fanfiction, really, to tell the truth. It stopped being a roleplay when all the Hogwarts people left (read: got exasperated with the Bella-Voldy-Wolfbar-Belinda fanfiction Mary W. and I were writing...)
Right. So. MW said she was having problems loading the last one. Plus, the number was wrong on the last one. Shouldn've been tenth.
Carry on!
submitted by TNÖ, age 16, Deep Space
(July 15, 2009 - 3:11 pm)
(July 15, 2009 - 3:11 pm)
((Well, given that Bellatrix is the one who's been teaching her the dark arts...
And yes, I like the screaming line. What of it?))
(July 31, 2009 - 12:48 pm)
((Little or nothing of it, actually.))
//Wolfbar//
Oliver burst into Wolfbar's room without bothering to knock. His eyes were wide with either terror or disbelief, or a frightening hybrid of the two. "You will not believe what I just saw!"
Wolfbar's initial reaction was surprise that Oliver would be willing to tell him anything- the two young men were not exactly fraternity brothers- but Oliver looked as though he'd just seen a devil. Not altogether impossible, though, Wolfbar thought to himself, considering whose house they were in. "Do tell, I'm dying for curiosity."
"Two girls," said Oliver, his voice taut with restrained fury, "from Hogwarts. First years. Wandered onto the property and the mad witch-" he still almost never said Bellatrix's name- "is downstairs torturing them."
"What else is new?" asked Wolfbar a bit coldly. "One would think that you'd have gotten used to this sort of thing by now."
"No, get this. Guess who's down there having the time of their life, helping Bellatrix out?"
"I really don't care, Oliver..." His mind was wandering.
"Belinda!" shouted Oliver. "Belinda. In the basement, torturing little eleven-year-old girls for the pure fun of it! That mad witch has brainwashed her!"
"Maybe she was always like that," suggested Wolfbar, not really caring that he sounded cruel, "and you just never noticed it." As an afterthought he added, "Boy."
"She's gotten to you too," muttered Oliver. He clenched his fists and all but ran out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
(July 31, 2009 - 1:30 pm)
//Belinda//
There was a curious thrill to it, Belinda noticed. A sort of high quite unlike anything she had ever experienced.
She grinned.
//Dark Lord//
Several hours later Bellatrix appeared once more. She glided into the library, where the Dark Lord had been bent over a two-century old scroll written in an archaic language, shot him a deranged, twisted smile, and vanished behind one of the large bookshelves.
The Dark Lord smirked. "Who are they?"
"Students," came the reply. "First-years, apparently. It would seem they ran away-" she laughed- "and got lost." She reemerged from between the shelves, an enormous, leather-bound book cradled in her arms.
"Loosing students left and right, that school," mused the Dark Lord. "First your little protégé, then Scorpius, now these two..."
Bellatrix smirked. "Standards and security slipping even more, if such a thing is possible."
"Such is life," he replied with mock sincerity. "And how is your pupil, incidentally?"
"Rather well, actually. Recovering nicely from her irrational terror. And showing a bit of a sadistic side."
"Who does that remind us of, I wonder?" the Dark Lord asked dryly. Bellatrix glared at him; he smiled innocently in return.
(August 1, 2009 - 4:01 pm)
POSTpostPOSTpoostPOSTpostPOST...
(August 4, 2009 - 11:56 am)
((Impatient? You did go to Costa Rica, remember... ;)
No, but seriously, this vacation has been grueling. I'll be back on regularly on Thursday... thank God...
The computer here is s. l. o. w. and I
(August 4, 2009 - 9:59 pm)
((Okay, I'm here.))
Lillian didn't know how long she'd been walking. Ever since the storm that seperated her from the rest of the group, it seemed. And that had been DAYS. All in all, Lillian was wishing she was back at Hogwarts. Or better yet, back at home. Her real home. With her parents and younger sister and... she yawned. It was nighttime, and she was tired.
And then she saw a building up ahead. Hogwarts? Had she come back to Hogwarts? But even in her sleep-deprived state, she knew that the building was different, quite different than Hogwarts. It had a somewhat austere feeling, a feeling that she shouldn't go in... but Lillian was tired and hungry, and this was the first building she'd seen in days. She went in.
(August 5, 2009 - 8:12 am)
((All right, my last post got cut off, the hotel computer was unbelievably slow. On a completely different topic, welcome back Lena, and now I'm back in NJ, so I'll post more tomorrow... As I'm sure is obvious from the tone of this post, I'm a) pressed for time, as I'm going to bed any minute, b) not feeling terribly intelligent, having driven for ten straight hours and c) far too exhausted to write anything decent, as it's 10:15 pm.
But I WILL post tomorrow. In fact, tomorrow I will ruthlessly abuse Internet-Microsoft-phone-bicycle privileges, having been away so long.))
(August 5, 2009 - 9:16 pm)
((I'm sorrry for the delay. Back now, though, so let's carry on.))
//Wolfbar//
The screaming was on and off for the next few days, sometimes louder, sometimes slightly muffled, but either way filled with pain. Wolfbar still didn't know the date, but he very much doubted that Belinda cared or even remembered their conversation of a few days ago.
The Dark Lord was spending more time in the basement, and routinely demanded things that Bellatrix had to sneak off to the Ministry to filch. Records of old Death Eaters, dates of their deaths, incarcerations, etc. Lists of Aurors, and Ministry officials, and Hogwarts staff. For the Dark Lord, of course, Bellatrix was only too honoured to take a break from torturing the two girls downstairs to relieve the Ministry of their paperwork.
Wolfbar, meanwhile, lay low in his room. His dreams were alternately of the nightmare variety, filled with screams- of who, he wasn't sure; sometimes it was his sister's, sometimes the first year girls who Bellatrix and Belinda were torturing, sometimes Drusilla, back in the Garden. On more than one occasion they had been his own.
When they weren't nightmares, they were filled with visions of success, of Wolfbar himself not being ridiculed by the Dark Lord, but being congratulated and even, by some stretch of the imagination, respected by him. In such dreams things like Drusilla's death and the Malfoys' fear didn't matter. Wolfbar would awaken and try to shake such dreams off, knowing how stupid they were, but, like the nightmares, they stayed with him all through his waking hours and then came back at full force when it was night again.
With nothing else to do, he continued plowing through The Riverside Shakespeare.
(August 6, 2009 - 12:51 pm)
??
(August 7, 2009 - 8:55 am)
//Bellatrix//
The days began to settle into an almost comfortable pattern; Bellatrix spent the large part of her time in the basement, torturing the girls. Occasionally Belinda helped; usually this was followed by a lesson of some kind in the upper regions of the house. And every so often the Dark Lord would send her on unobtrusive intelligence-gathering trips to the Ministry (with strict instructions to kill Potter if she came across him again).
All of which suited the Death Eater just fine, though she was starting to find the girls a little boring and repetitive.
Several weeks after the girls' arrival, the Dark Lord sent her to kill someone, an assignment she accepted with quiet glee. It had been far too long since she last killed someone (and Drusilla hardly counted, since that had been a mercy killing...) and Bellatrix wanted a new victim to torture anyway.
So, with explicit instructions not to toy with him too much lest help arrive, the Death Eater set out around midnight to murder an auror by the name of Patrick Macmillan.
She Apparated to the end of his street and strolled easily through the shadows, avoiding lamplight when possible. A sneer crept onto her features; he lived in some filthy Muggle district, and the very atmosphere made her skin crawl.
What minimal protective enchantments there were she broke through with hardly thought. She slid silently through the house into he bedroom.
He was asleep, drooling a little and snoring ever so faintly. Bellatrix awoke him with a brief Cruciatus and an innocent smile.
"Good morning, sunshine," she said sweetly.
*
Several hours later Bellatrix returned to her own home, her forearms soaked in blood and a wicked grin on her face. She breezed through the manor, found the Dark Lord, and shot him an enormous grin before kneeling to kiss the hem of his robes.
"You had fun, I take it," he murmured, glancing down at her with a slightly bemused expression.
"Very much so, my lord," she said.
"Though I assume you weren't very... subtle." He eyed the blood on her sleeves.
"He didn't have enough protection around his house to keep a Muggle out," she said with the slightest of smirks. "I made it look like a Muggle killing. Stab wounds, and what not."
"Inflicted while he was alive, no doubt," the Dark Lord smirked in turn.
"Only for purposes of authenticity," she grinned. "Of course."
"Of course."
"Goodnight, my lord," she said softly, and left, not expecting an answer.
As the door shut behind her, her master said softly, "Goodnight."
(August 7, 2009 - 9:51 am)
((Oh yes, comfortable. Gosh yes.
In hope that the the Hogwarts posters will return, Albus' POV.))
//Albus//
Albus threw down the paper and snarled. Another interview with his father. Ever since the Dementer attack a few months ago, he'd been more of a celebrity than ever; an alleged sighting of Bellatrix Lestrange a few weeks back only emphasized this.
Normally he wouldn't have minded; he loved his father and supported everything he did, et cetera, et cetera. But what with all this going on- possible break-ins at the Ministry, Dementers, disappearing students- Harry seemed to have very little time for everything else. Christmas break was approaching- just a few more weeks- and Harry had already made it clear that James and Albus were staying at Hogwarts for break. Albus had protested vehemently- "Where giant Dementers drop in every now and then? No!"- but Harry had replied that it was the safest place in times like this. Which explains all the disappearances, of course, Albus thought sarcastically.
In addition to all that, Albus was quite certain that his father had been lying that day at King's Cross, so many months ago, when he said that the Sorting Hat took one's opinion into account. Albus had been wishing harder than he ever had that he'd be in Gryffindor, and he got landed in Hufflepuff. The house for the dimwits, the ones that didn't have the skills or intellect to be put anywhere else. Even Slytherin would've been better than Hufflepuff.
He glowered at the picture of his father plastered onto the front page of the Daily Prophet. "Hypocrite," he muttered, repeating what James had often said, not actually knowing what it meant but hoping it was really, really bad.
(August 7, 2009 - 11:05 am)
Lol. I like that. :)
(August 8, 2009 - 7:20 am)
I think I'll be coming back to have someone there.
(August 7, 2009 - 4:45 pm)
((Sorry, I have writer's block)).
(August 7, 2009 - 8:15 pm)
((Thanks, Lena. :) Where is Lilllian right now?
@ Ima: It's okay; that happens.
@ TNO (umlaut): That was rather funny, by the way.))
//Draco//
Draco was leafing through a pile of records for old Death Eaters, at his aunt's request. The nice kind of request that, if declined, would be followed up by a Cruciatas curse.
He recognized quite a few of the names, people that he remembered his father Lucius talking to and about. Some were dead, others in Azkaban. Very, very few had escaped imprisonment or death. He involuntarily shuddered, thankful that his father had been able to back the Malfoys out before they ended up like so many other "loyal" servants of the Dark Lord. Then, thinking about what would probably befall all those who had backed out and not responded to the call a few weeks ago, he decided to also be thankful that he had.
He was supposed to be sorting the papers into piles- alive and in Azkaban, alive and free, and dead. So far the last pile was the biggest.
The work did not require a lot of attention- a glance at each sheet, a flick of the wrist- and Draco, much as he tried to be solely absorbed in the incarceration date of Kristov Parker or which auror had killed Morton Salve, he found his mind wandering. What would become of Scorpius and Pansy when the Dark Lord returned to full power? No matter how... honourable... it might be, he especially didn't want his son involved in this, didn't want him being used as an expendable spy or assassin like he'd been.
On the other hand--and Draco hated himself for thinking this--it was somewhat exhilarating to be doing this sort of thing again.
(August 8, 2009 - 2:26 pm)