#aparecium starter

[msdorcasmeadowes-blog]

WHEN: July 1978 WHERE: Puddletown, Dorset

While she was never really one for sporting events, Dorcas did love a good party. She loved the excitement of it all; the drinks, the music and dancing, being able to see her friends and make new ones. The atmosphere was so different than the one that typically lingered around these days. Everyone was so happy and carefree, forgetting for just a few hours that there was a war brewing amongst them all. 

Dorcas had come to the party alone, figuring she would just meet up with some of her friends when she got there. Only problem was she couldn’t find anyone. The crowded streets made it almost impossible to locate anyone. So, she found herself a drink...or two, and was quite content dancing by herself. 

“Oh, don’t you love a good party?” Doe asked to no one in particular as she found herself once more at the drinks table. 

[prxngspxtter-blog]

James grabbed a glass of fire whiskey and looked around, grin on his face.  Puddlemere United winning again?  Well, he certainly wasn’t missing the celebratory party!  His own team, perhaps the greatest team in the UK, nay the bloody world, they’d gone and done it.  

“Did you see that pass?  You know they used the arrowhead formation, passing through almost the whole team before the Kestrels could even react!  I mean, they stood absolutely no chance!”  James was almost bouncing with glee as he detailed play by play of how Puddlemere United had managed to cinch it from the Kestrels.  His arms gesticulated wildly, and whoosh…there was a puddle of fire whiskey all over an unsuspecting witch or wizard.

“Oh, shit..sorry.”

[whythelongbxttxmfrank-blog]

“No, no. I was at the Puddlemere United party. We saw each other. We even talked, right?” Frank raised a brow with a big grin, trying to think back to that night. “And rest assured, whatever Alice said I did, it was probably an exaggeration.”

[ilonaa-burke]

WHEN: July, 1978 WHERE: Puddletown, Dorset EVENT: Puddlemere United’s Victory Celebration Party

Quidditch had never been something that Ilona was particularly fond of, and she was sure that there were plenty better things she could be doing with her evening, but there was always one person who would convince her that anything was a good idea, and convincing her, he did. 

Never one to be at the centre of the chit chat, dancing and people making a show of themselves, she kept herself to the outskirts of where the festivities were happening. From there she could observe those around her with ease, collecting any tit-bits of information that could come in handy in the future. 

With a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, Ilona smiled politely as another approached her. “Had enough of all that palava have you?”

[rxgulusarcturus-blog]

Cheer For The Victors!

Event: Puddlemere United’s victory party

Location: Puddletown, Dorset

When: July 1978

It had been a match to remember. Puddlemere took the cup in one final swoop and the crowd came to life in a deafening roar. Being a fan of the team since he was young, his gut filled with a certain type of pride during the game. So much so that when the seeker caught the snitch he broke poise and yelled out.

Not one for after parties unless it was absolutely necessary, Regulus lingered at the sidelines. He watched in awe as people mingled with smiles painted on their faces. It was like the war had just ceased to exist. An ill-placed step had him backing into someone as he turned to find the drinks table.

“My apologies, I didn’t think to check behind me.”

[fullmoonfenrir-blog]

WHEN: July, 1978 WHERE: Puddletown, Dorset EVENT: Puddlemere United’s Victory Celebration Party

Fenrir Greyback had not stepped willingly out in public, among witches and wizards in full celebration, in several years. Though his face was not as well known as his name was starting to become, and despite his confidence that he could fight his way out of any situation, he was determined not to act like his former alpha and keep his ego in check. His wolf side. The side of him so deeply rooted in his mind and body, accepted as a part of him, that he was almost unable to hide the image of the wolf, even on nights when the full moon could not be seen. His eyes always remained slightly yellow and his face scarred.

Standing on the outskirts of the celebrations, eyes scanning the crowds, he moved in the shadows in order to avoid social interaction. It never ended well for either party involved. Turns and facing a window slightly, he had to double take. One of his younger wolves had transformed his face to an almost unrecognizable version of himself. Though his size was intimidating and his eyes still had a slight glow to them, his scars were nowhere to be seen and his tattoos were covered well. He thought to himself that he needed to remember to praise the young wolf when he returned, before turning away from his reflection once more.

Finding a post to lean against, one able to support his weight without making the usual, alarming creaking noises, he settled in for a night of vomit inducing wizard watching. How he loathed them all, but needed to be there, close to but not entirely in the thick of it. Good recruits were hard to find and if he had to search for them himself, then so be it...

[cassius--avery]

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, alright?” he muttered, stalking towards the door of Borgin and Burke’s. Rolling his eyes, he unlatched the door, opening it to allow the other person entry. “You know she’s not open yet,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Ilona was very particular about the shop’s hours and the last thing Cass needed was an irritated Ilona this early in the morning. “Do you need something, or were you just planning to stand there and stare at me?”

[fennyben-blog]

July 1978

Puddletown, Dorset

Despite the cheers and jeers from the crowd and the high-pitched whistling of fireworks and noise-makers around him, Benjy was able to tune it all out and finish his column piece. He knew a lot of other writers were among the crowd, and he hoped that if his piece made it back to the prophet first, he would have the better chance of it being published. He knew that his work would be overshadowed about the actual quidditch match itself, but his actual name being on the paper would make him feel better.

He had being secretly using the name Tim Kinder for most of his pieces, hoping that his enemies would be searching for the fake half-blood instead of Benjy himself, but going by a different name also made him feel incomplete as an artist. Nevertheless, he signed Tim Kinder on the bottom edge of his piece, and he tapped his wand on the parchment, watching it as it disappeared to a submission box in London. He had chosen to use his pseudonym, hoping that whatever dark wizard or witch was out there knew that they always had eyes on them. Tim Kinder was known to be expressive over the dark side of the war, and despite not having his own name recognized, he enjoyed the double life. It almost made him feel like James Bond.

He ordered another drink but was given the wrong order, and he sipped the dirty martini in distaste. Running his hand through his hair, he turned to the person next to him. “I really hate the taste of olives, but alcohol is alcohol. And I plan on being quite drunk by the end of this night.”