SYBILL PATRICIA TRELAWNEY was laid to rest three weeks after her murder in the little cemetary that lays just beyond hogsmeade village, scotland. it was a solemn affair, attended by her surviving family - excluding muggle half sister - long term coworkers, and a rather impressive number of ex students who had been counted among her favorites over her hogwarts tenure, or who had a soft spot for their old professor. the recent curfew imposed by the ministry of magic wrecked havoc upon the initial plans arranged for after, but with help from madam rosmerta, something a little more in sybill’s spirit could be pulled together on short notice. everyone who knew her knew of her fondness for a tipple of sherry, and in all the time she called hogwarts home, the three broomsticks had always been her preferred bar. individuals who made the trek for the funeral were encouraged to move towards the bar, after, and share a drink with her family. it was intended to be a solemn, professional kind of event - destined to move beyond it after a few more drinks & the locking of the front doors for a good old fashioned lock in.
if you can slip away, later in the evening - if you can spot the other people your age slipping out the back, giving themselves a little overhaul & trying to muffle their chatter - maybe you’ll find the REAL celebration of life itself. no one knows who exactly had the idea to use cover of three broomsticks event to sneak away and set up a number of bonfires on the hill where the shrieking shack lies, but the use of a muffling spell around the perimeter ensures sound won’t carry, and the place is off the radar enough that should an auror make the rounds to ensure the curfew is being kept, they won’t notice. there’s loud music being played, and beer being passed around / people are laughing & having fun, something in huge contrast to the day that’s really in it. whether they’re here to rebel and are unaware to the other event happening concurrently, or whether they simply want to leave the tragedy at the grave - the bonfire seems destined to rage all night.
WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :
THE THREE BROOMSTICKS : it certainly begins as an event for anyone who wishes to pay their respects in a more traditional way, but madam rosmerta is known for her hospitality, and her high standing within the community allows her to flout the rules in her own special way. there’s no worry that the memorial - or event, as it swiftly becomes, with free flowing drinks & soft music & youthful memories, shared amongst friends & strangers alike - will get cut short, given that the bolting of the front doors turns it into a lock in, and the three broomsticks sort is more likely to draw the aurors enforcing curfew in than it is force them to break up the gathering. the earlier hours keep the initial intent intact, but as the evening grows darker and everyone enjoys themselves a little bit more, the memorial shifts from somber to... well. enjoyable !
THE SHRIEKING SHACK : word of mouth & natural curiosity can be thanked for the crowd drawn this way, but someone had to come up with it, and no one really knows who did, and there’s plenty of people willing to take credit. leaving the three broomsticks, if you attended, or apparating directly onto the hill before the ten pm curfew is the smartest thing to do, there’s no denying, but if you run a little late you’ll probably get lucky - no one’s paying anyone leaving madam rosmerta’s bar much mind, and once you get there, you’re laughing. it’s not much of a MEMORIAL, certainly much more of a party, but sometimes... that’s what’s needed.
OUT OF CHARACTER :
it seems only right that for our one year anniversary, our next event should be one that’s really very nox ! two in one events have become a bit of a staple for us over the last year, and sybill’s goodbye was another opportunity to give multiple options, and let you choose your own adventures. the official memorial is being hosted at the three broomsticks, and follows the more traditional approach. there’s probably been a speech or two, and there’s definitely a drink in memory of, and when it gets a little late, madam rosmerta will lock the doors & turn it into a proper little gathering, music change & all !
elsewhere, a very different sort of flouting the rules is taking place on the shriekign shack hill. no one knows who started this, but the heat from the bonfires is a welcome comfort, and the spell muffling the area was already well in place when most people made their way there by word of mouth. there’s beer going around, music blaring, and it’s not as much a memorial as it is the opportunity, taken, to party. given the fact that st patrick’s day was cancelled, who can blame ‘em ?
these events will be two weeks long, beginning officially today, at 12:00am GMT - click this sentence to see what that works out at for your timezone !
you do not have to pause any current threads for the duration, but you are welcome to, if that makes your workload any lighter ! please just ensure proper tagging, so that event threads are easily differentiated from regular ones.
event specific starters ( private and otherwise ) can be posted into the appropriate tags : either nox.lockin or nox.bonfire. i know ! i’m super inventive ! the lock in location is the three broomsticks & the bonfires can be broadly called the shrieking shack, but if you tag location, hogsmeade is fine for both !
please keep in mind the galleon system with starters & everything, as most will earn you points !
if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to message the main, and please comment anything you’d like on this post to let me know you’ve read it !
location: shrieking shack
status: open
(happy one year!) <3
she didn’t really stay very long at the three broomsticks. the melancholy made her uncomfortable very quickly. she knew it wasn’t meant to be comfortable. it was a memorial, after all. but she remembered the way that she badmouthed professor trelawney so openly during her years at hogwarts. she felt like everyone there knew. so pansy just stepped in to pay her respects, set down a sympathy card, had a drink with her arms folded over her chest and an uneasy smile, and then escaped as smoothly as she could to the shrieking shack. pansy wore black fairly consistently so her memorial attire doubled as party-wear. all she needed to do was remove the light black overcoat she wore, tug the neckline of her black shirt, and use another quick spell her fix her hair and makeup.
the party at the shrieking shack was more pansy’s element. less dealing with uncomfortable emotions. lots of booze. having it be more socially acceptable to smile and laugh or roll her eyes. and being in the outdoors with space to breathe with other relatively intoxicated young adults. yeah, pansy parkinson was most definitely more in her element. plus, she was certain that her friends were more likely to be here.
pansy was sitting on a small unoccupied log by the bonfire, a beer in hand. her knees were somewhat tucked up to her chest, the glow of the fire lighting up her dark eyes. her cheeks were already growing pink as she sat there, passively scoping the drunken crowd.
location: somewhere near the bonfires
participants: theodore nott & pansy parkinson ( @mellifluousmagic )
“PROMISE ME, THAT WHEN I DIE,” was a bold start way to start a conversation, yet for the two friends it was far from unusual. in fact, theodore had the faintest of smiles on his face as he came to a stop next to his friend, turning his head to look at her. “you won’t let blaise and draco do anything so ridiculous to honor my memory,” he concluded by taking a sip of his drink. a scowl momentarily appearing across his face as the taste of cheap beer hit his tongue. “otherwise, i might be forced to come back and haunt you,” he continued, deciding to end on a more humorous note- though was threatening to haunt someone really that funny?
𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: shrieking shack hill, hogsmeade !
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: @elliethebeth !
"i can’t think of any spell that’d make me impervious to bonfire smoke,” but she’s been pondering it for a while, now - tapping her wand against her leg, thoughfully - so you’d have thought she’d have reached an answer to the question by now. the fires hadn’t been included in mafalda’s initial pitch for why shrieking shack hill was the place to be, tonight, and ginny hadn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. the wool blend of her jacket - one of her favorites - was really just asking for trouble, and any lingering smell of smoke would reveal exactly where she’d been ( flouting curfew like so many others ) unless she worked out a solution that wasn’t sitting several lengths away from the pyres. “or smoke, in general. i’m going to stink by the end of the night - any suggestions?”
( 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ) — the shrieking shake
( 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 ) — during the bonfire
( 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ) — alcohol, maternal death, grief
“Any divination horror stories?” It was perhaps a bit crass, but Oriana was more than a little drunk. They closed their eyes for a moment, blinking away tears that felt like they belonged to stranger. Sybill had never been a great mother, not really. But they thought maybe things might change, thought that maybe they could know the woman as more than a cold and distant figure.
(Maybe. Maybe. Maybe the funeral had been a mistake. They stood there while people apologized, while people offered their condolences and thought what is different now? what does this change?)
That chance was gone now. And all they had left was a last name and the very building that Sybill was murdered in. They held close a few memories. The hazy feeling of content framed by the night sky. The adoration that marked their childhood. The sound of her voice as she explained myths. But that was all. That was all there was.
“I was lucky enough to never take that shitty fucking class so nothing for me to tell.”
bad news travels fast, but apparently not fast enough, as it was in the middle of the bonfire (when she had already consumed copious amounts of booze) that she decided to turn around and carelessly ask a random stranger what the hell they were celebrating. she had heard from a friend that heard from a friend (that probably heard from another friend) that the bonfire was the place to be at tonight, and never missing a party, gabrielle headed there swiftly, not really bothering to figure out there was a purpose behind it. and quite a heavy one, she guessed, taking in account the cutting glare she received from the stranger who didn’t even bother to reply. rude.
gabrielle kept walking, glass in hand, feeling out of place with her light pink dress in the sea of people wearing black, sporting matching gloomy drunk faces. even though she had moved two years ago already, she couldn’t even begin to understand their customs or attitudes or general lack of joie de vivre and - wait. why was everyone wearing black?
and suddenly realization dawned on her and gabrielle felt terribly sorry. she had to sit down to process the fact that she had just fucking walked into a funeral. and then she remembered the terrible news she had heard from fleur a few breakfasts ago, how a hogwarts teacher had died, as if that place needed more death and destruction tied to it’s name.
“i am a fucking idiot, right?” gabrielle said to the person that sat next to her, pushing her head into her hands. her head was starting to spin a little, both from the emotional whiplash and the booze she had generously thrown back. “i never know where the fuck i’m standing.”
Damien hates very few things more than funerals, or anything really to do with them. His hands shake and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way he wants to. He made an honest attempt to go to the funeral, he really did try. Then he saw the sea of mourners in black, the tears by the few who were close enough to do so for Sybill. For a moment, he could have sworn the casket looked like Rowan’s, for a moment he could remember what his sister’s laugh sounded like.
Almost as soon as he walked through the doors, he turned around. What did he think would happen? He viciously scolded himself as he decided to leave and go to the bonfire instead. He truly did not realize he was crying until a tear landed on his ring and startled him. He huffs. He was fine, he was fine. He rubs his skin practically raw to get rid of the tears, then looks around in a hurry. He could have cried tears of joy when he finally found Charlie, but settled for gently wrapping his arms around them and settling his head in the crook of their neck.
“Hi.” He makes his voice as steady as possible. “Are you having fun?”
𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: shrieking shack hill, hogsmeade !
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: @chhochang !
"does your jumpsuit have pockets?” a ‘hello, cho’ would have been nice, there’s no denying, but ginny’s far too obsessed with the others ensemble ( and a few too many drinks in ) to offer any sort of traditional greeting as she bounds across the space towards her, solo cup in hand, smile infectiously wide. the fact that cho is dressed for a funeral is a little lost on her, but in ginny’s defense - she’s struggling, a bit, connecting the bonfire to the other event happening in town that night. she had never taken any of professor trelawney’s classes ( talked out of it by hermione, in fact ) and hadn’t entertained the idea of attending, but others had, and it’s been something she’s been trying to keep in mind all evening. she isn’t doing a very good job. “hey! you look great- are your pockets big enough without an extension charm to put things into? like your phone, and stuff?”
