YASSSSS! LET'S DO THIS THING!

Name: ***** *****... but let's go with SE

Age: 13

Fandoms: LotR, Hobbit, Star Wars, Jessica Day George, Star Trek, Batman, I Love Lucy (IT IS A FANDOM), the Gone series by Michael Grant, and mnay other things

Appearance: I would like you to see me as this picture.

Fighting Skills (in real life): Quite skilled with a bow and crossbow, good at hand-to-hand combat, especially with speed, I can shoot a gun like nobody's business, and... I can do many things

AE: Nope

Would you rather be a MC or have an AE: MC, if pssible

Hogwarts House (say ‘none’ if you don’t want to go to Hogwarts): Well, as I said earlier, I hate HP, and I do not want to go to Hogwarts, but I am a Slytherin. NONE

Thank you all for joining CBers VS Zombies II. Past this point, no more submitions will be agknowledged; adding in characters in the middle of a plot arch doesn't work for me. I will begin drafting the first post and try to get it up as soon as possible. Be patient; you will all appear eventually. But maybe not your AEs. I didn't end up using most of the AEs. 

At first, it had been fun. It had been fun finding the book hidden in the corner of that old bookshelf. It had been fun reading about Harry and Hermione and Ron; she had been annoyed that no one seemed to know about the series; it was a very good series. You would expect it to be popular. She didn’t know how many books there were in the series, but she knew there were more, so she looked up tons of things from it- ‘Hogwarts’ and ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Sorceror’s Stone’ and ‘JK Rowling’ and ‘Hermione’. None of them got any search results. They should have, even if no one submitted anything on them. There should’ve been someone named JK Rowling or something on a pig getting warts or about Shakespere’s play.

Someone had covered something up here, and very sloppily, too. Someone who didn’t know anything about Muggle computers- computers. St.Owl cut off that line of thought quickly, and wiped her search history thoroughly, then went to bed and tried not to think about it. She succeeded pretty well, and for a few months almost forgot about the taped-over box holding the locked safe with the book in it, hidden in the corner of closet covered behind uncharacteristicly messy glob of clothes and books.

She was scrolling through a website that arranged people to give each other free things- and saw in great big letters HARRY POTTER, two words censored from everywhere else on the internet. She clicked on it and had sent a message asking to receive the books as soon as possible. Thirty minutes later, she was sitting out in the front yard shivering in a jacket wondering why she had ever, ever agreed to this. She was about to go in and pretend this had never happened, remember this only as a very foolish time she went all conspiracy theorist and agreed to meet someone from online so late it was almost morning, alone.

And then a car drove up. A man wearing a dark hoodie stepped out, carrying a stack of books. “Here they are-” He looked up and saw her and gaped. “You’re only a kid!”

“Yeah?” St. Owl said, offended. Honestly, ageism these days…

“I- I can’t give them to a kid! They’re going to come and make you forget all about it, or make you do something you don’t want to do, or, or, Avada you like the Dark Lord-” He yanks something out his pocket. “I never should have read them, you shouldn’t either, no one should, it was a mistake to bring them here.”

It gleams into the light and St. Owl sees it’s a cigarette lighter. He flicks it on, reaching to set the books alight- “NO!” St. Owl yells, and it flies out of his hands, though she didn’t touch it.

“You’re- you’re like them! Magical!” He scrambles away, pulling himself into the car and clumsily driving away.

St. Owl gathers up the books and lighter carefully, hurrying inside and locking all the doors, locking herself in her room and locking away the books and sitting in bed and thinking for a long time. It took her a while to make her decision, but when she finally does, she is quite happy about it.

My other fandoms: Lunar Chronicles, Hamilton, Percy Jackson, Guardians of Ga'Hoole. In case you were wondering.

S.E. normally loved school, but today she could hardly wait for it to end. As soon as the bell rang, she packed up her things immeadiatly instead of lingering. Swinging her dark green backpack over one shoulder she started sprinting towards her house. She was supposed to go in only a couple of hours, and she’d only packed about half of the necessary stuff. She shoved open the door to her house and hurried inside. She hurried to her room and started grabbing things to put in her scatchel. Waterack filled to the brim, crossbow and pouch of arrows, plenty of dried fruits and meats, some money… She pulled her modern style clothes off and pulled out her other clothes.

S.E. laced up the front of her emerald green dress (honestly, while she loved her visits to Middle Earth she could do without the dresses). She pulled on some boots and yanked her hair into a french braid. She hung it off to one side so she could still use her bow without her hair getting caught in the bow string. Having long hair was another thing she sacrificed for her visits to Rohan- she would have perferred a pixie cut or dyed hair, but it would be too conspicious.

She heard the door open, and ran downstairs to greet her dad. “DAD! FINALLY!” She grabbed his arm. “I need help packing, and we have all sorts of stuff to do-”

“I’m sorry, S, but I can’t go with you today.” He rubbed his hand along his forehead. “I have a lot of work at the office.”

S.E. stared at him in shock. She had frequently asked if she could go to Middle Earth alone, and he had always given her a resolute no. But now he was agreeing- trying to make HER agree even. “Alright,” She mumbled. The thought of going alone brought her no joy now, but she still wanted to visit the beautiful village where her father grew up.

“Here, I’ll help you,” Her father said. “I want you to make sure that you have everything; you’re to come back in exactly one week of Middle Earth time. I don’t care if Gandalf the White is throwing a birthday party and you’re the guest of honor, you’re not staying a moment longer than one week. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Some of S.E’s old excitement was flowing through her again, and she grinned at the thought of visiting her beloved Rohan.

~

Air had finally gotten the wi fi working. That had been bugging her for a good four years. She had studied wards and spell creation and runes and arithmancy since she was a first year gaping at the huge library, just for this moment, and now it was finally working.

She pulled out her laptop and logged onto Cricket, scrolling through the Inkwell with great joy. Finally, she could join a long term RP. No longer would she disappear at random interverals. Finally, she could hang out with them properly- but wait. Was she really hanging out with them properly if she couldn’t tell them about magic? This huge, beautiful secret- and she wasn’t going to tell them.

Clicking into a new post, she started typing, “Magic is real” but stopped. She had heard about what happened to the people who broke the Statue of Secrecy. After the incident where a Muggle killed an Auror with a gun, people were scared. Muggles weren't scratching at the dirt anymore; they had guns and tanks and dreams, and they didn't appreciate having their minds wiped. This paranoria was made worse by a squib under the name JK Rowling releasing a series of books documenting the Chosen One's life at Hogwarts. They were Obliviating everyone who had went into a bookshop that they knew had at one point housed a few of the forbidden books- just in case, better safe than sorry. The muggle had pulled out a gun, and there had been a fight ending with both dead, one Avada'd and one shot multiple times. No one had blinked an eye at the Muggle's death- it was all about the Auror, of course. Air sighed. Voldemort may be gone, but by no way were things perfect.

She scrolled through the CB without really seeing the posts. A post from Abigail, an AE war, some fangirling here and there. It didn’t really matter. Air wasn’t truly a part of it- her and the Novelist weren’t part of the community, not if they were keeping secrets like that. The two of them were isolated, the only ones in a world of muggles- wat. If Air's brain could make a sound of abject disbelief, it would probably a stunned 'wat'. She sounded a bit like a duck.

Air had stopped because there was a post by “Harry Potter”. She clicked immeadiatly.

Hey, guys. I need some help, but I’m not sure what you’ll think, so I’m borrowing a name from somebody I’ve heard about. Anyway, a while ago I heard a rumor about this group of people who keep all these secrets. I found out about these secrets, and I think I might be involved in some of these rather closely. Advice? Are there any of you in situations like mine?

Submitted by Harry Potter, age 10 ½, Cupboard

I know what you mean. I keep secrets too, inhereted from my secret-keeping mum, but no one should be cruel when keeping their secrets. Secrets, and knowing them, can be magical things, but still.

Submitted by Hermione Granger, age 11, Pltfrm 9 ¾

I’m new to these secrets, but I think I can help you. Have you been officially introduced, or are you not supposed to know? If you’re especially involved, and new, they’ll tell you soon, usually around eleven.

Submitted by Ginny Weasley, age eleven

Is this supposed be an RP? I don’t get it…

Submitted by ???

I think we all have the same secrets in common. As Hermione said, we must be careful to keep thes magical, wonderful secrets under wraps.

Submitted by Headmistress McGonagall, Hogwarts

Well, scratch that bit about being the only one. Air ran off to go find the Novelist.  

TOP TOP TOP!

topsy tops!

S.E. took a huge breath of the fresh air. Even in the beautiful New Zealand, there was a hint of underlying greasiness in the air- the barest scent of dust and gasoline and the grinding effort given to keeping their magicless world moving. Humans sacrificed many things to keep their world running- theirs was a harsh one, unlike this world that was clean cut and simpler, the bad guys bad and the good guys good, everything black and white.

Her leather boot slipped gently through the thick green grass. Everything was almost too beautiful, too perfect; it was a little overwhelming. As she headed out of the little hollow in the woods near the portal-cave, she thought of her father; he would not be in this perfect world with her. Time moved faster here; a week in Middle Earth was six times as long on Earth.

She would miss him, and he her.

~

St. Owl scrolled through all the posts in excitement. Her idea had worked even better than she had thought, and there were tons of people like her! From what she could tell, there were three other people who weren’t offically part of the magical world and weren’t at Hogwarts yet, and two who were. It was even more than she could hope for and she was frankly delighted at how well this all had turned out.

She considered telling them just how she knew about Hogwarts, but figured considering how the guy had bought the newest books from had reacted, it would not end well.

~

Henreitta Whitten, or as Abi called her, Booksy Owl, would be eccentric if she was rich, but since she was middle class, was only afforded ‘quirky’. The fourteen year old had chin length brown hair with various highlights and lowlights as well as thick glasses that highlighted her bright, curious hazel eyes. Her freckled cheeks could often be seen just over the top edge of a book as she snuggled up in the depths of an interesting fantasy world. She little cared for fashion or gossip- what was the newest fad compared to her timeless, elegant dresses or simple, snuggly sweaters? Her calm assurance and quiet demeanor made her stand out from the rushing, pop-and-fizz world of nineteen ninety five, but she hardly cared.

She was snuggled up in a cozy sweater, school skirt and leg warmers, reading through an Anne of Green Gables book. The chilly London air swept through the drafty little apartment, and although out in the sun it was only a bit below comfortable, the walls seemed to collect the cold and expel it back into the apartment.

“Booksy!” Abi called, hurrying in. Abigail was a good three years younger than Booksy Owl, but the two girls were neighbors and had been quite close for some time. “You know how you were complaining about no good internet sites? I found a good one! It’s called the Chatterbox- it’s for that magazine you get. Cricket, was it?”