time isn’t wasted when it comes to the GOODBYE CEREMONY. memorial weekend is overwrought with emotion, and no one is entirely themselves by the time the final night rolls around. it’s a part of the event, but no one is exactly cheery - and however lovely the gesture of light is, there is, this year especially, a distinct feeling of wanting to be done with it as quick as possible from those that gather on the hogwarts grounds.
the speech is much the same as the one at the rememberance ceremony. headmistress mcgonagall says a few words - directing some to the survivors, to their friends and family, to the students and the professors, and to the HOGSMEADE villagers that make the trek every year - but all too soon ( and yet not soon enough, for some ) instructs the able to take out their wands and raise them to the sky. the first years are taught the spell to create the individual orbs in the first month, now, in preparation.
“alea iacta est.” at first, the voice goes almost unnoticed. the words are little more than a whisper, and headmistress mcgonagall’s earlier warnings to those who might have deigned to interrupt the ceremonial event were severe enough that only a single first year takes their eyes from the front of the gathered crowd to crane their neck and search for a source. they find their gaze drawn to a woman they’ve yet to encounter, in lessons : tiny mirrored beads sown onto her robes giving the impression of a thousand glittery stars as the light from wands being lit around her reflect off of them. her wild hair is flecked with grey, and her ancient looking glasses magnify her eyes to such an extent that it is discerning... and all the easier to see the way in which they seem to be, not blue, or brown, or green - but a milky, endless white - color covered, perhaps, or simply rolled to the back of her skull. the first year gasps and grabs her friends robes -
“the lamb shall lie with the lion,” the woman’s whole body seems to convulse as she speaks, voice strange in a way that cannot be explained, for it is not one voice that sounds but a dozen - each of them unique in inflection yet similar in their raspy undertone. it shouldn’t be POSSIBLE. wands are raising around them, now, but this tiny ( growing ) gaggle of first years are frozen in place, and their stillness is all the more obvious in a crowd of MOVEMENT. “and the lion shall feast upon the lamb. and there will come a day as dark as night...”
sybill trelawney’s companion, the much more recognizible professor flitwick, only takes real note of her as her hand rises to grip his shoulder tightly with a grasp that proves UNBREAKABLE. she does not look to him, nor to the students that are beginning to look to her - she seems not to notice them entirely. “when death will mark a new equal, though alone they are not. and wise is he who looks ahead... as to go forth is to go back - for only once lost may the lost be found.”
wands are beginning to lower. whispers erupt. headmistress mcgonagall has no trouble spotting the point in the SEA of gathered bodies where there seems to be trouble, and briskly begins making her way through - mouth twisted in a way that would make even older students nervous. lights begin to rise from the lifted wands into the sky, the ceremony undisturbed by and large. minerva arrives full of fire and ready to drag the culprit of their interruption away by the ear, so help her : until she breaks through the distanced circle of enthralled first years and discovers the scene. “and he who lived once shall live twice and lived twice, thrice... and in the middle of all things, the one eyed man will find himself king.”
anyone taking note of headmistress mcgonagall’s expression in that moment would have seen, not anger at the interruption, nor confusion at what’s happening before her. for a long moment, minerva mcgonagall simply looks the way that half of the tiny gathering feels : fearful. she finds her composure QUICKLY ( it is bad enough that filius cannot hide the pain from sybill’s nails digging into his shoulder ).
“shadow will lift from the kingdom of the blind and with the light shall come a new empire... an empire without end.” minerva thinks, perhaps, it’s a containable event. she moves forward, now, with purpose, reaching out to grab sybill’s elbow and escort her through the distracted while the others continue the ceremony, and is almost knocked off of her feet completely as the other woman lets go of filius and grabs her by her robes : misty eyes focusing upon her but not possibly seeing, grip vice like, voice more urgent now than it has ever been. “tremble... for the dark shall lift but the light will fall... vita ante acta.”
and sybill goes limp before her, filius only barely managing to stop her from tumbling to the ground.
and there is a gasp -
and then, there is a SCREAM.
minerva twists around, her eyes scanning the crowd. there is an undeniable buzz of activity, now, as the crowd begin to react to what to her, is the unseeable. the sea begins to move, no organization, just blind panic, and wands are falling, all around, and the light that was streaming into the sky - wands are falling, all around, and the sea is beginning to move : no organization, just blind panic, and the light that was streaming into the sky -the light that was streaming into the sky -
“minerva...” filius’ horrified whisper is lost to her.
“up there!” comes a shout too close to her ear from someone who is trying to push their way through the crowd quicker than anyone else, now, like by sheer force of will they might make it before the hundred others. but she doesn’t NEED to be told where to look.
overhead there has erupted a horrifying sight : a skull as large as the castle itself, it seems, formed of dark cloud that a handful of moments ago simply did not exist. and as she watches, its mouth opens wide - a SNAKE slithering from it’s open maw to twist grotestquely around it, eyes glowing menacingly all the while.
OUT OF CHARACTER :
the goodbye ceremony is the final curtain of memorial weekend. the thought is quite simple, really : though wizards don’t believe in the same sort of afterlife as muggles do, the act of sending light up to the sky ( similar to the art of fire lanterns ) is seen as symbolic. students, professors, neighbours, friends, families : all of them gather upon the grounds for the FINAL show, and it is not uncommon for them to spend hours outside underneath clear, starry skies, simply observing the show of good that they have partaken in as way of honoring their lost. really, it’s quite cruel that this is the ceremony in which things go wrong.
we’ve reached the NATURAL end of our second event, and what a trip it has become ! not only has sybill trelawney pulled out all the stops - the appearance of the dark mark in the sky above the grounds is... truly, quite a horrifying thing. it hasn’t been seen in the wizarding world in six years to the day - and you can surely imagine the terror seizing those that actually UNDERSTAND its weight, now.
though the event is now technically winding down, the plot won’t further progress for another week period ( because we like having set blocks such as these, you know ) : this means that while you should begin winding down your previous event threads, you can feel welcome to create as MANY within the chaos of this as you want ! go wild with it, in fact - the reactions each character have will likely vary in intensity, and i for one want to see it all !
i’ll announce the end next friday, after which point we will be progressing past SUNDAY THE 3RD OF MAY.
the prophecy is going to be posted on a sub section on discord where you can all DISCUSS your thoughts : i actively encourage you all to work together and spitball ideas and see what you think ! will i confirm or deny ? probably not. but feel free to get involved in it, as this marks the beginning of our main plotline !
you can continue tagging these threads with nox.event002, and remember to keep in mind location tagging !
if you have ANY questions or concerns, as always, please feel free to message me with them !