Maeve Delacroix

Maeve, 24, Ravenclaw. Professor of Wizard Literature

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve Delacroix: Check the files around your office. If you look closely, you'll realize one is gone. If you don't bring الموت' والدمار' from the restricted section to the Great Hall by dawn, it'll be all over school tomorrow.

Maeve shook her head, at a loss for words. This had to be some kind of cruel joke.

She sifted through her files, heart pounding as she pondered the extent of the theft. They’d been guarded so closely, protected with everything she had. Surely that was enough, wasn’t it?

With horror in her eyes, she realized which folder was missing; the file on Amy Adams. It was personal, the most personal thing she had, and it would render her vulnerable to anyone with knowledge of her fragile thoughts. So with trembling hands and a watering heart, she left her morals to do the deed. Tonight. She’d steal it tonight.

[maeve-delacroix]

Desire (Prompt)

Physical:

Malecrit, Maeve's favorite playwright, published twenty copies of his journal before he died. She's always wanted to read a copy, but they're so rare that she's never even seen one.

Emotional:

Emotionally, Maeve has never been too stable. Ostracized since a young age, she's wanted friends for a long time. She fears she'll never be able to though.

[biancadibara]

Idiots, Plots, and Awkward Diplomacy - Bianca & Maeve

[biancadibara]

Bianca nodded as Maeve spoke. “Action, indeed. I’m glad to know I can rely on you. It’s the only way we can ensure the safety of our students.”

Maeve had asked of suspects, and from her tone, Bianca imagined she had some thoughts. “I have none, but it sounds as if you do.” She raised an eyebrow and grabbed a quill. “I assure you, any suspicions you may have will remain in this room until such times as proof can be found.”

Eyes still locked with Maeve’s, Bianca began drawing in what appeared to be lazy circles on the parchment in front of her. It helped her think, and this was certainly not a time to let her brain be idle. Too much was at stake, and if Maeve was not trustworthy, she would need to sever the alliance before it began.

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve smiled, pleased with the vote of confidence. She wasn't used to being trusted, and the notion sent tingles down her skin. Sarah, the others... They'd judged her without a second thought. Though undeclared, the silence spoke far louder than words, and Maeve felt ostracized from the start. Maybe Bianca was different.

"Starkey," she replied, voice filled with conviction. It had to be him, she could feel it in her bones. "I don't have much evidence, but he was present at both the tower incident and the Gringotts break in. Suspicious, and too coincidental; besides, my instincts have always been sharp. What do you think?"

Their eyes locked, and Maeve froze for a second. She hated eye contact, it made her feel quite vulnerable. But like hers, Bianca's were hardened, and she found an odd comfort in that. Perhaps they'd be able to get along.

[biancadibara]

Idiots, Plots, and Awkward Diplomacy - Bianca & Maeve

[biancadibara]

Always business, that Maeve. She barely knew the witch, but she admired her pointedness. This, after all, was no time for idle banter.

"The deplorable state of our school," she said, pointing at a chair across from her desk. "I was hoping after the first mishap last year that the situation could be resolved, but then a student in my House was killed horrible." She paused and met Maeve’s eyes. "Of course I hoped that was the end of it, but just today that squid has gone feral and has put the students yet again in danger. This needs to stop, and I fear the people in a position to stop it are quite incapable of protecting our charges."

It was no secret that Bianca had a disdain for Deputy Head and her lapdog, but until now the situation had never necessitated what was now dangerously close to a coup. But they had failed at the most important part of their jobs and had consequently proven their terrifyingly inadequate qualifications.

She hoped the witch had a measure of intelligence as well as the gift of discretion. There were few other members of the faculty who were as distrusting of Starkey as Bianca was, and if Maeve let her down, she’d be forced to look elsewhere for help.

[maeve-delacroix]

"It was a tragedy," she stated, "one we'll have to keep from occurring again. Loss is a hard weight to bear, and I fear you've got the brunt of this one. My deepest condolences."

She dipped her head, showing grief, then gracefully slipped into the seat. With legs crossed she listened, nodding when points rang true. Ah yes, the squid incident. Maybe now they'd kill the darn thing. "Is it under control?" Maeve inquired, voice cold as the chill in the room. She'd been in class when it happened, so she didn't know all the details. As a head of house, Bianca probably knew more.

"Any details? Suspects? Inklings at all?" With pursed lips, she awaited an answer. Her mind had already been made, however, as all roads led to Michael Starkey. The deplorable man was at it again, and Maeve would not tolerate his antics.

She narrowed her eyes, getting lost in her head for a minute. Perhaps there was something she could do. "Though pleasant, talking only gets us so far, Bianca. If you'd like to take action, however, I'm all yours."

[biancadibara]

Idiots, Plots, and Awkward Diplomacy - Bianca & Maeve

Bianca was quite sure all her colleagues were incompetent. Students being attacked, one of her own dead, and they were no closer to discovering who was responsible.

It was disgraceful.

As Head of Slytherin, Bianca had been responsible for notifying the Eames family in person of their daughter’s accident. She had left out details—the dire situation at Hogwarts mostly—because if her colleagues couldn’t do damage control, at least she could. There had been an accident, an unavoidable tragedy, but they weren’t to know how dangerous the school had become. Other parents would panic, and that never helped anything.

Damage control had the unfortunate side effect of continued correspondence, and as she tied the letter to Mrs. Eames to her owl, she considered how to remove herself from this role of grief counselor.

It was a small price to pay to keep chaos on the outside at bay, but it was certainly an unwelcome courtesy Bianca was keen to be rid of. Until the Auror and the hedgehog figured out how to fix the school, though, the small diplomatic niceties were a must.

The owl was barely out the window when there was a knock at her door. “Enter,” she said evenly, hoping to gods it wasn’t one of her more incompetent peers.

[maeve-delacroix]

Never a social creature, Maeve was quite irked at the summons. To question a superior, however, was out of the question, so she sucked up her pique and went gently.

Light footsteps echoed around her, sending shivers through the stone. It was old, the castle, and very much alive. Though age left it worn and grey, a vitality remained, and she realized she had missed it. Too long she'd been dead, holed deep in a den of dirt and damnification. It was time to breathe again.

With a book of poems in hand, she meandered towards Bianca's office. She'd try to be civil, even open in fact. Though vexed at the loss of her free time, it was about time she tried to make a friend.

She looked down at at the anthology, dog-earing the page of her favorite poem. "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Her fist hit the door three times, solidly but in no rush to move. She waited there, for a second, before a woman's voice called through the door. Bianca. She'd met her a few times, though they weren't acquaintances yet. In fact, she knew very little about the woman.

Quickly, Maeve slipped into the room, respectfully nodding towards the snake. "Bianca," she greeted. "Hard at work again, I see. What did you want to discuss?"

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve, if you would be so kind, please meet me in my office around noon tomorrow. Given the state of affairs at the school, I feel it's high time we talk. --Bianca

Ms.Dibara,

As soon as the clock strikes twelve, I'll be there.

-Maeve Delacroix

[atfirstlight-rpg]

The Mysterious Box: The Result

[sarah-wilkinson]

Oh good, Sarah thought to herself,  the literature professor came… that’ll help.

"I don’t know what more we can do here. The Ministry will be arriving in Dawson’s office any minute now, and he can deal with them at the moment. The students should be informed of the tragedy. The Slytherins, at least, are bound to notice her absence. At least one person needs to stay at the scene, and we’ll need to find anyone that was down here when it happened. We’ll need to know what everyone saw. So, we’ll have to question the students. Mikey, do you want to go to the Hufflepuffs or head up to the Aurors and tell them what you saw. I can stay with the body and wait for the other heads to get here if you want to check to see if the healers are on their way, Maeve? They should be coming up from Hogsmeade by now.

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve nodded, struggling to keep up with the pace of Sarah's words. They were all blurring together, like sand in the salt of ocean waves. "No!" She exclaimed, shaking her head. "You can't leave him here. He's not..." The professor trailed off, realizing Sarah was the one who'd suggested staying with the body. God, she was just so out of it.

"Alright," she replied, nodding briskly towards the witch. it wasn't a hard task, not really, and she felt like Sarah had underestimated her. She was used to it by now, as Wiz-Lit didn't seem like the most intensive of subjects. The fact that she was young and had no auror experience didn't help either. No matter.

She wasn't good at taking orders, and had already planned on investigating alone. Still, looking disloyal would do her more harm then good, so she left, setting off to find the healers.

[atfirstlight-rpg]

The Mysterious Box: The Result

[sarah-wilkinson]

Sarah could see the panic in Mikey’s eyes as she laid out her orders. It was easy for her to forget that other people weren’t raised on this stuff like she was. That other people didn’t know how these things work. It wasn’t like Mikey to doubt her, but this was an extreme circumstance. “Michael! Get your shit together! I’ve got this. I’ve personally trained half the aurors on staff, and my father was head for longer than I’ve been alive. There is no way they will find anything that I haven’t! I know that. I’m need to tell them so that they think we on depending on them… alerting them to our trouble, but right now, I’ve got a psychopath running around, and I have no idea what they are playing at. There are few people I know I can trust absolutely, and you are on the top of that list. Now, I need you to do the same for me. It very well could’ve been someone from the outside, but it’s far more likely that it’s someone from the ministry or our very school. The strongest witches and wizards in Britain are at those two places, and there is no way this was done by an amateur.”

"I don’t know Mikey, but if this wasn’t for fun… that means that it was part of a plan, and how many people would go through this much trouble to kill an eleven year old. If this was a plan, we are fucked."

"Where the hell is my staff!?!"

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve took a deep breath, walking briskly towards the Great Hall. Her eyes were dilated, scared, and the scent of firewhiskey still reeked her lips. With a slight teeter and a too-blank expression, she entered the occupied space. "Professor Wilkinson," she greeted. "Starkey." She shot him a menacing look, kept hidden from Sarah, of course. The witch didn't know her and rage would only make her seem suspicious. Maeve had been there through the incident, in fact, and she'd seen it all. Christina, the box, the ponderous force... It was tragic, really, but tragically beautiful. She remembered the body, floating into the air like some ominous being of peace. Anyone could've died, really. A student, a passerby... Maybe even a teacher. But Christina had been the lucky (or perhaps unlucky) one. Maeve was jealous, oddly, in her own peculiar way. How nice it would be to escape, to leave before innocence ran and each mirror turned into a dagger. The girl would be a dagger too. In photographs, memories, minds especially. Makeup. She was wearing makeup. Maeve's heart wrenched, twisting and curling like the dead girl's limbs. The body, Christina's body, had once been a girl. One who'd prettied her face for her first year classes, one who'd tried impress a boy. "No," she choked out, after fleeing from sight. No one had seen her, she'd made sure of it. Quickly, she rushed towards the nearest bathroom, releasing her stomach into a stall. Then, finally empty, she stitched her nerves back together with cold, barbed wire. "It could've been anyone," she thought, "and you'd feel the same way." The burn of firewhiskey seared down her throat, numbing her mind and her insides. After hearing Sarah's announcement she tossed her bottle, cursed, and set off towards the Great Hall.

"Oh god," she choked, clamping a hand over her mouth. She looked towards Mikey, then Sarah, then back towards the body. "What happened?" She sputtered, her words slightly slurred. "Why... How did she... Who would even do something like this?"

[michaelstarkey]

Potential Success || Mikey & Maeve

[michaelstarkey]

She was supposed to back down.

She didn’t.

By now Mikey was completely baffled. The nerve, not to mention the  utter insanity that apparently made her hate him so much. What had he ever done to her? And why was she so suspicious of everything?

He really did want to run away and cry, but he refused to give her the satisfaction. He stood silent for a moment, focusing on controlling the involuntary shaking his hands did when he was nervous; to settle them, he grabbed his wand. If she took it as a sign of aggression, then at least he’d have an excuse to turn her into something foul.

"The thing about hedgehogs, Maeve," he said, steeling himself and stepping closer to her, "is that they are fantastic at protecting themselves. They may seem all cute and defenseless, but if you get too close, you will feel pain."

He smiled despite feeling like this random and sudden feud would not end well for either of them. But it seemed like she wouldn’t back down, and the worst thing he could do was let her trample him.

"And keep in mind, Maeve, that Transfiguration affords me certain…creative license. You know, should you try to skin me."

He wanted to blast her with something nasty, but he put his wand back in his pocket. “Find evidence, or leave. But don’t sling accusations you can’t back up. It just makes you look foolish.”

[maeve-delacroix]

"Oh?" She smiled, stepping contentiously towards the man. If he wanted a fight then he'd get one, and Maeve would show him no mercy. Every word, every threat; they all bounced right off her. She wasn't scared, and she wouldn't back down. Not now, not ever. "Pain?" The witch scoffed, grinning wildly. "I'm afraid I've become quite immune to it. Still, if you want to test me, well.... Hit me with your best shot, Starkey. " She'd grown up with pain; built a house from it. Taunts and insults formed its base, corroborated by rage. Guilt built the walls and windows; sadness, the door. Finally, roofed by grief, she had nothing left to lose. "You!" She exclaimed, gesturing towards a passing professor. It was Augustina Wollsworth, the charms teacher. "Veritaserum," Maeve proclaimed, voice filled with a sense of urgency. "I need it direly." Without a word, Wollsworth set towards the serum, returning in a matter of minutes. Maeve thanked the witch, turning back to face Mikey.

"Drink up, Starkey. I want to know everything."  

[michaelstarkey]

Potential Success || Mikey & Maeve

[michaelstarkey]

This was unbelievable. She was blaming him? He’d done nothing!

Yes, there were hedgehogs. Obviously. That was his thing, and that has been his task. But the beasts? The child endangerment?

And Gringotts? “The break-in, you mean?” He shook his head slowly as if trying to clear away the thoughts. This was ludicrous, insulting, and…mind numbingly confusing. Accusations like this were not something he was accustomed to, so he didn’t exactly know how to respond. He did know, though, that arguing wouldn’t do anything to help his case.

His case… He sighed and sat down against the wall. He had a case now…?

He turned to look at Maeve. “Grab the Veritaserum then. Addie’s coming right now; we can see if she has any. I have nothing to hide, Maeve. I had nothing to do with the Gringotts break in, and I certainly would never harm these children!”

He turned away. The woman was fuming, irrational, and just plain mean, and he tried to force back the tears that were already stinging his eyes.

Don’t do it, Mikey. She’ll take it as a sign of guilt…

He couldn’t stop them, though, and before long his eyes were red and puffy. He wanted nothing more than to turn into a hedgehog and scurry away, but that, too would surely infuriate her further.

No. There was no other option but to face her.

He stood, turned to her, and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I have no idea what I’m meant to have done to you to deserve this, but I’m sorry…” He paused to wipe more tears. “And that’s all you get. I’m not some dog you can kick around, and if you keep trying to destroy me, I will take you down.”

His voice had become dangerously low, and it surprised him. Still, he’d meant every word, and if Maeve wanted a war, she’d have one.

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve narrowed her eyes, shooting Mikey a glare that could melt the man's skin off. He had raised her blood to its boiling point, and she had reached the point of no return. The man's tears brought her back a bit, as they took her by surprise. What was he playing at? And why were his eyes so big and puffy? Maybe the others were right, maybe he didn't have it in him. No! Michael Starkey was evil. Evil! “C’est vraiment des conneries!” She spat, throwing her hands to her sides. It was bullshit, all of it. A complete and utter disaster! This would never have happened at Mahoutokoro, or Beauxbatons even! Hogwarts was insane, and the professors were all mad too. Why was she here again? Maeve sighed, pursing her lips as she paced back and forth. Her hair shot up in angry bursts; forming a mohawk, then standing straight up, then cycling through colors. Curses tumbled out of her mouth (French, of course) and every word she uttered led her hair to increase in unruliness. "Oh I'll try," the woman hissed, "and I'll more than succeed. I'll skin you, reanimate your corpse, then feed you to a group of stray cats. They'll eat you slowly, bit by bit, and your death is sure to be agonizingly painful. Watch your back, Mr.Starkey; or I might just be inclined to rip it from your bones."

[maeve-delacroix]

Good evening, Madame Delacroix... or should I address you as Professeur Delacroix? I don't know if you remember me, but Father one time asked for your assistance in a one time tutoring session. You taught me to write poetry and gave me a very enlightening lesson on the book, Why I didn’t Cry when the Augery Died. I hope to learn more from you, your teaching style left a mark that is not too easy to remove.

Either is fine, Mr.Yukimura, and of course I remember you! Your father is a dear friend, and I hope he’s doing well. Tell him to write me when he gets the time, okay?

As for the lesson: I’m glad it stuck! The book is a truly favorite of mine. My teaching style may be harsh, but I am confident with my methods. Getting rid of the weak is the only way to properly nurture the strong, is it not?

Congratulations on your Hogwarts acceptance, Mr.Yukimura; I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.

Sincerely,

Maeve Delacroix

Professor of Wizard Literature

[carleymackenzieoliver-blog]

Yeah no I don’t have class right now… I’m just exhausted.

No worries professor!

[maeve-delacroix]

"Very well then."

"How did your um... 'Task' go?"

[carleymackenzieoliver-blog]

Wha..

Sorry!

[maeve-delacroix]

"It's all right."

"So long as you're in the library and not in class."

[profnathanfoster]

Already There || Nathan & Maeve

[profnathanfoster]

Nathan stared at her for a second. Where did that question even come from. “That could be a very personal question.”, he told her with a small smile. “Also I’m not quite sure what you actually meant”, he confessed immediately afterwards. “You know the important things about me already - I’m Nathan Foster, I teach History of Magic. Maybe that subject is also what makes me function. Or maybe my students.”

Thinking about it actually made him realize that was not quite true. “maybe travelling does”, he thought out loud. And then, because he couldn’t monologue out loud without explaining anything, he added, “I usually spend my summer travelling the world and visiting historic landmarks. It’s usually very fascinating.”

Despite now desperately wanting to know what her answer to the same question would be, there was another question he wanted to ask even more.

"Why did you want to know?"

[maeve-delacroix]

"The acceptance of boundaries only strengthens them," she replied. "Besides, you make me curious." Maeve tilted her head up, shrugging her shoulders at the man's confusion. It was an open ended question, of course, and he would realize that soon. Still, she wondered how much he would tell her, how far he'd open up to a complete stranger. Perhaps it was a test of sorts, but of what? She didn't know. "You are a professor of History, are you not?" She teased, the ghost of a twinkle in her eyes. "So you must know that skin-deep facts don't explain much. It's what's behind them that's important." Travel. Just the mention of the word brought a smile to her face. To see, to explore, to escape even. The prospect brought light to her world. "Where to? If you don't mind me asking, that is. I fear that I've managed to catch you on the defensive." She glided towards a chair, wondering if he'd be willing to join her. Perhaps she'd overstepped, perhaps... No, there was no time for regrets. He'd be okay or he wouldn't. "I don't know," she admitted, brushing her bangs towards the left side of her face. "I like to know people before I get to know them, you know? No, that doesn't make any sense. Maybe I'm just nosy."

[maeve-delacroix]

[profnathanfoster]

Already There || Nathan & Maeve

[profnathanfoster]

Nathan found himself laughing as well. “Yes, Hogwarts does have a reputation for that.”

"It is… intriguing magic", he told her carefully, still looking at the paper in his hand with a guarded expression. He had not expected it to be quite as powerful. "And extremely useful as well. Describing emotions must be hard then… is it used for other things as well? And can it be used multiple times?"

Unsure if he should give it back to her - despite Maeve deliberately showing her emotions to him it still felt like an intruder in some way - he held it in the middle between them. “Is it exhausting to use the spell? Or are the effects only showing one at a time?”

The stream of questions going through Nathan’s head wouldn’t simply stop. It was a new spell, one he had never seen before and he was curious.

[maeve-delacroix]

Maeve took a deep breath, pursing her lips as she thought. "To influence others, yes, but that's highly unethical and deeply frowned upon. As for your other question, the spell can be used multiple times, but no two imbuances are ever the same. Similar, maybe, but never identical." She looked at the outstretched paper, shaking her head in response. "It's not an intrusion, though it may feel like one now. I only share what I'm comfortable with, and it's far more impersonal than a pensive." There were files she'd never disclose to anyone, ones kept locked and guarded like treasures in a vault. Secrets. Feelings she could not describe, ones that she herself was scared of. Like memories they plagued her, but she could not seem to get rid of them. Everyone had their own files somewhere, and she wondered what Nathan's were. "Who are you?" She asked, the question more vague than she intended. "What makes you function, I mean?"

[maeve-delacroix]

Files || Maeve & OPEN

It had been a long day for Maeve Delacroix. She had taught two sections of Wizard Comics, which, albeit enjoyable, were quite a hassle to keep in line. Now she was back in her office, sifting through piles upon piles of emotionally imbued artifacts. With every one she touched, her mind was invaded with sentiments of the past and the present; from complete and utter joy to panic and despair. To an outsider, it may have looked like she was having a psychological fit, bordering on complete insanity. The reality, however, was that it was all in a day's work for Maeve Delacroix. As the woman worked, she noticed the presence of an observer at her office door, but didn't acknowledge them. If it was important enough then they'd make themself known.