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portusnovus_ooc2020-11-11 05:41 am
portusmod) wrote in portusnovus_ooc2020-11-11 05:41 am
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ℋ The Knight Bus
Two weeks to the start of term, everyone is gathered up for a trip to Diagon Alley, a magical shopping district somewhere in London. Professor McGonagall is chaperoning the trip and she makes sure everyone is all grouped up and accounted for before she proceeds.
"Right, right, gather 'round," she says shortly, rolling up the parchment she'd been using to tic names off. "You might find this next part startling, but please refrain from screaming."
Professor McGonagall sticks out her wand arm, much like she's trying to hail an unseen taxi. What happens next is a blink-and-you-miss-it moment as a large, purple, triple decker bus seems to squeeze itself out of thin air at an incredible speed, screeching to a halt in front of the gathered group. "The Knight Bus," McGonagall says coolly, putting her wand away.
"Take it away, Ern!" booms a jovial voice, once everyone is seated. Upon further investigation, the voice belongs to a small, shrunken head hanging from the rear-view mirror, much like a macabre car decoration.
With a loud bang, the Knight Bus is off. It moves at impossible speeds, already seemingly hundreds of miles away from Hogwarts in the blink of an eye as it speeds down lone country roads, swerving to and fro to avoid obstacles.
"Hold on tight, it's about to get real bumpy, eh!" the shrunken head booms out, cackling as the bus speeds to a halt to avoid muggle traffic that seemingly appeared out of nowhere as you realize you're already in a city.
The force of the stop is jarring, if you aren't holding onto something it's quite possible you'll go flying out of your seat. No sooner than the bus stops does it start again, the interior of the bus shrinking as it starts to squeeze through a narrow opening in the city traffic. It expands again as the bus finally finishes squeezing through, and all of a sudden you're thrown back against your seat as the bus takes off with another bang.
"The bus usually be much more crowded dan dis," the shrunken head says to no one in particular as the bus zooms along. "But da headmaster be reserving the whole bus for dis trip!"
Another hard stop, a sharp turn, a badly timed school crossing and several agonizing minutes later, the bus slams to a stop for the final time. "Leaky Cauldron!" the shrunken head calls out.
Professor McGonagall leads everyone off of the bus, to the door of an old, dingy looking pub on the corner. "This way, if you please."
"Right, right, gather 'round," she says shortly, rolling up the parchment she'd been using to tic names off. "You might find this next part startling, but please refrain from screaming."
Professor McGonagall sticks out her wand arm, much like she's trying to hail an unseen taxi. What happens next is a blink-and-you-miss-it moment as a large, purple, triple decker bus seems to squeeze itself out of thin air at an incredible speed, screeching to a halt in front of the gathered group. "The Knight Bus," McGonagall says coolly, putting her wand away.
"Take it away, Ern!" booms a jovial voice, once everyone is seated. Upon further investigation, the voice belongs to a small, shrunken head hanging from the rear-view mirror, much like a macabre car decoration.
With a loud bang, the Knight Bus is off. It moves at impossible speeds, already seemingly hundreds of miles away from Hogwarts in the blink of an eye as it speeds down lone country roads, swerving to and fro to avoid obstacles.
"Hold on tight, it's about to get real bumpy, eh!" the shrunken head booms out, cackling as the bus speeds to a halt to avoid muggle traffic that seemingly appeared out of nowhere as you realize you're already in a city.
The force of the stop is jarring, if you aren't holding onto something it's quite possible you'll go flying out of your seat. No sooner than the bus stops does it start again, the interior of the bus shrinking as it starts to squeeze through a narrow opening in the city traffic. It expands again as the bus finally finishes squeezing through, and all of a sudden you're thrown back against your seat as the bus takes off with another bang.
"The bus usually be much more crowded dan dis," the shrunken head says to no one in particular as the bus zooms along. "But da headmaster be reserving the whole bus for dis trip!"
Another hard stop, a sharp turn, a badly timed school crossing and several agonizing minutes later, the bus slams to a stop for the final time. "Leaky Cauldron!" the shrunken head calls out.
Professor McGonagall leads everyone off of the bus, to the door of an old, dingy looking pub on the corner. "This way, if you please."
ℋ The Leaky Cauldron
Before heading off to Diagon Alley proper, your little field trip includes a stop at the infamous Leaky Cauldron. On the outside, it looks a bit worse for wear, you're not really sure if Professor McGonagall is fooling you as she leads you inside. It just seems so... ordinary. Perhaps it's because it's sitting right on the corner of what's clearly a very ordinary street.
Muggles- non-magic folk- are going about their business, seemingly oblivious to the fact you and your group all just got out of a triple decker bus moving at the speed of light.
Nevertheless, Professor McGonagall leads you into the shabby tavern, where a tired looking wizard stands behind the bar. All around him, dishes wipe themselves clean, chairs push themselves into place at their tables and trays of drinks float around lazily, dispensing themselves to various tables around the bar.
"We might as well have a spot of breakfast while we're here," Professor McGonagall says, situation herself at the bar as she begins to make small talk with the barkeeper, Tom.
She leaves everyone to go about their business for the time being. The bar is pretty quiet, a few witches and wizards sitting about reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper.
Along with a menu of assorted wizarding treats such as cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties and butterbeer, the Leaky Cauldron also has a smaller menu of normal foods such as meat pies, stews and the like.
Professor McGonagall doesn't appear to be in much of a hurry, so feel free to enjoy the calm, quiet atmosphere of the quaint street-side pub.
A chair pulls itself out for you, as a rag floats over and begins tidying up the table and Tom the barkeeper calls over, "Oi, what'll it be?"" as Professor McGonagall assures you the school will cover the expense.
Muggles- non-magic folk- are going about their business, seemingly oblivious to the fact you and your group all just got out of a triple decker bus moving at the speed of light.
Nevertheless, Professor McGonagall leads you into the shabby tavern, where a tired looking wizard stands behind the bar. All around him, dishes wipe themselves clean, chairs push themselves into place at their tables and trays of drinks float around lazily, dispensing themselves to various tables around the bar.
"We might as well have a spot of breakfast while we're here," Professor McGonagall says, situation herself at the bar as she begins to make small talk with the barkeeper, Tom.
She leaves everyone to go about their business for the time being. The bar is pretty quiet, a few witches and wizards sitting about reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper.
Along with a menu of assorted wizarding treats such as cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties and butterbeer, the Leaky Cauldron also has a smaller menu of normal foods such as meat pies, stews and the like.
Professor McGonagall doesn't appear to be in much of a hurry, so feel free to enjoy the calm, quiet atmosphere of the quaint street-side pub.
A chair pulls itself out for you, as a rag floats over and begins tidying up the table and Tom the barkeeper calls over, "Oi, what'll it be?"" as Professor McGonagall assures you the school will cover the expense.
ℋ Diagon Alley
Professor McGonagall leads everyone to a stone wall in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, before she proceeds to whip out her wand. She raps pointedly on a few specific stones and before you know it, the wall in front of you begins to rearrange itself, stone by stone, as it forms an opening.
Before you stretches a long, crowded street packed with wizards and witches and magical folk of all kind. On either side of you, shops and stalls of all kinds stretch along the cobblestone streets that lead along this wondrous settlement, seemingly tucked away in the middle of London.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Professor McGonagall says shortly, stepping through the opening in the wall and onto the cobblestone street. "You'll be able to find all the supplies you need for school. Do go on, I haven't got the time to babysit all of you. If you have any questions, I shall be around. Stay out of trouble, or I'll have you out of here faster than you can say 'transfiguration'."
And with that, Professor McGonagall wanders off, though she's sure to keep an eye in case anyone runs into trouble.
A few places catch your eye immediately, Flourish and Blotts, a wizarding bookstore where you're sure to find all of the books you'll need for school. The Magical Menagerie has been alerted to the fact new students are visiting, so they've made sure to display the finest cats, rats, toads and owls to tempt anyone looking for a companion to accompany them to school.
Diagon Alley is also home to the famous wandmaker, Mr. Ollivander, whom you've had the pleasure of meeting already. His shop can be found here, where you may be lucky enough to witness new students going through the process of getting their own first wands, which is often time consuming and difficult, depending on the person. The shop itself is old and dusty, stacked high with boxes of wands and in a seemingly permanent state of dishevelment, though Mr. Ollivander navigates the space with decisive expertise.
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor is also a popular destination for the younger crowd, offering an assortment of flavors, both magical and mundane to suit your sweet tooth. Today's special? Strawberry-Peanut butter! Have a seat outdoors and enjoy a nice cool treat while folk bustle about around you, shopping and chatting it up jovially.
Don't forget to swing by Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where she'll see to it that you're fitted with school robes in your size, and of course you can't leave until you've tried on a pointed hat or two. After that, why not head over to Gringott's Bank at the very end of the street and open up an account? You still have some money leftover from what the Ministry of Magic gave you and you have no idea how long you'll be here. It would be a wise decision to ensure any money acquire is safely guarded- no place safer than Gringott's for that!
After a few hours of exploring and shopping, Professor McGonagall rounds everyone up for another quick trip through the Leaky Cauldron, outside where she once again summons the Knight Bus to take everyone back to Hogwarts.
Before you stretches a long, crowded street packed with wizards and witches and magical folk of all kind. On either side of you, shops and stalls of all kinds stretch along the cobblestone streets that lead along this wondrous settlement, seemingly tucked away in the middle of London.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Professor McGonagall says shortly, stepping through the opening in the wall and onto the cobblestone street. "You'll be able to find all the supplies you need for school. Do go on, I haven't got the time to babysit all of you. If you have any questions, I shall be around. Stay out of trouble, or I'll have you out of here faster than you can say 'transfiguration'."
And with that, Professor McGonagall wanders off, though she's sure to keep an eye in case anyone runs into trouble.
A few places catch your eye immediately, Flourish and Blotts, a wizarding bookstore where you're sure to find all of the books you'll need for school. The Magical Menagerie has been alerted to the fact new students are visiting, so they've made sure to display the finest cats, rats, toads and owls to tempt anyone looking for a companion to accompany them to school.
Diagon Alley is also home to the famous wandmaker, Mr. Ollivander, whom you've had the pleasure of meeting already. His shop can be found here, where you may be lucky enough to witness new students going through the process of getting their own first wands, which is often time consuming and difficult, depending on the person. The shop itself is old and dusty, stacked high with boxes of wands and in a seemingly permanent state of dishevelment, though Mr. Ollivander navigates the space with decisive expertise.
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor is also a popular destination for the younger crowd, offering an assortment of flavors, both magical and mundane to suit your sweet tooth. Today's special? Strawberry-Peanut butter! Have a seat outdoors and enjoy a nice cool treat while folk bustle about around you, shopping and chatting it up jovially.
Don't forget to swing by Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where she'll see to it that you're fitted with school robes in your size, and of course you can't leave until you've tried on a pointed hat or two. After that, why not head over to Gringott's Bank at the very end of the street and open up an account? You still have some money leftover from what the Ministry of Magic gave you and you have no idea how long you'll be here. It would be a wise decision to ensure any money acquire is safely guarded- no place safer than Gringott's for that!
After a few hours of exploring and shopping, Professor McGonagall rounds everyone up for another quick trip through the Leaky Cauldron, outside where she once again summons the Knight Bus to take everyone back to Hogwarts.
ℋ Flying 101
With only a week to the start of term, there's a tense atmosphere looming over the school and Hogsmeade village. No one is sure how the year is going to go, but the Ministry of Magic is breathing down everyone's neck as the date approaches.
Professor Dumbledore doesn't want to start off the year on any sort of negative note, so he's decided to throw together an unofficial first lesson on the grounds of Hogwarts, where attendance is optional but highly encouraged and advertised. He sends out notices to everyone, though just what this lesson will be is kept secret.
On the day of the lesson, you're lead onto and across the Hogwarts grounds, until you reach a large, oval shaped structure with towers built around it, all decorated with different house banners. You're lead through the structure, out onto a large field with three large hoops at both ends, rising high into the sky much like flag poles.
All across the field, broomsticks are lined up ground.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore's voice booms from a podium set up to the side, his wand pressed to his throat, which you realize he's using to amplify his voice so that it can be heard clearly, "to your first flying lesson!"
A witch with close-cropped gray hair and a whistle in her mouth steps forward. "My name is Madam Hooch and I will be your flying instructor. Everyone, find a broom and position yourself next to it!"
Each broom appears to be old and well-used, their twigs bent askew and their wood worn by years of handling, some even have initials carved into them by students gone by. It's clear that these haven't been new for some time.
"Once you've found a broom, at the sound of my whistle I want you to hold your hand out above it and, with feeling, command it up. Nice and loud. Never mind if they're a little stubborn at first, just show the broom that you're boss."
Not every broom responds the same, some are tired and simply appear to want to lay there. Others shoot up with enthusiasm into your hand, while others roll about tiredly. For most, it depends on your fervor. If you really want and mean it, the broom responds in kind.
"Next, you'll mount it and then you'll kick off from the ground. Hover a moment, then touch back down. From there, we'll see how you feel and then perhaps you can try the obstacle course." she gives a wave of her wand and additional hoops and various obstacles appear around the field.
"Three, two, one..."
After practicing the basics for a while, Madam Hooch allows everyone time to free fly and to go through the obstacle course. After a while, when all the initial buzz dies down, she'll wander off and supervise from the side while everyone goes about flying.
Aside from flying, those who are more ground oriented are free to simply watch, or sit in the shade and take a moment to enjoy the scenery. Perhaps they'll wander away from the flying lesson and over to the great lake surrounding Hogwarts castle, where the tentacle of a giant squid can be seen occasionally poking out from below the surface, trying to swipe at any bird that makes the mistake of flying too low.
Professor Dumbledore doesn't want to start off the year on any sort of negative note, so he's decided to throw together an unofficial first lesson on the grounds of Hogwarts, where attendance is optional but highly encouraged and advertised. He sends out notices to everyone, though just what this lesson will be is kept secret.
On the day of the lesson, you're lead onto and across the Hogwarts grounds, until you reach a large, oval shaped structure with towers built around it, all decorated with different house banners. You're lead through the structure, out onto a large field with three large hoops at both ends, rising high into the sky much like flag poles.
All across the field, broomsticks are lined up ground.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore's voice booms from a podium set up to the side, his wand pressed to his throat, which you realize he's using to amplify his voice so that it can be heard clearly, "to your first flying lesson!"
A witch with close-cropped gray hair and a whistle in her mouth steps forward. "My name is Madam Hooch and I will be your flying instructor. Everyone, find a broom and position yourself next to it!"
Each broom appears to be old and well-used, their twigs bent askew and their wood worn by years of handling, some even have initials carved into them by students gone by. It's clear that these haven't been new for some time.
"Once you've found a broom, at the sound of my whistle I want you to hold your hand out above it and, with feeling, command it up. Nice and loud. Never mind if they're a little stubborn at first, just show the broom that you're boss."
Not every broom responds the same, some are tired and simply appear to want to lay there. Others shoot up with enthusiasm into your hand, while others roll about tiredly. For most, it depends on your fervor. If you really want and mean it, the broom responds in kind.
"Next, you'll mount it and then you'll kick off from the ground. Hover a moment, then touch back down. From there, we'll see how you feel and then perhaps you can try the obstacle course." she gives a wave of her wand and additional hoops and various obstacles appear around the field.
"Three, two, one..."
After practicing the basics for a while, Madam Hooch allows everyone time to free fly and to go through the obstacle course. After a while, when all the initial buzz dies down, she'll wander off and supervise from the side while everyone goes about flying.
Aside from flying, those who are more ground oriented are free to simply watch, or sit in the shade and take a moment to enjoy the scenery. Perhaps they'll wander away from the flying lesson and over to the great lake surrounding Hogwarts castle, where the tentacle of a giant squid can be seen occasionally poking out from below the surface, trying to swipe at any bird that makes the mistake of flying too low.
i
She still looks very, very pale around the nose. ⟫
The carriage had nothing knightly about it, in spite of its name. ⟪ She smoothes down her dress. ⟫ I would fancy something much stronger than tea.
⟪ Her tone is wistful enough to suggest that she'll make do with what he has offered, though. ⟫
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This is a pub, ( he smoothly points out, an idle gesture at the barman,) But our minder might have something to say about that.
( He means the eagle-eyes Minerva, who probably has a flask of something bracing squirreled away in her hat or the wide sleeves of her robe. Seriously, he considers, you'd have to, to deal with all the kids. The only reason he's not flown off the handle and got on the first flight out of London is, well...
The rt is gone. Not gone-gone- it's sitting prettily on his nightstand in Hogsmeade, dark and dead, and he's still alive. Better, even- there's not a scratch where it was before, bone grafted where it once was, and a vial of shrapnel tinkling softly in his pocket.
There's literally no human medicine in existence that could do that, and the visit to an unfamiliar hospital here seems to be all it took to sort him out.
What the fuck indeed. )
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It floats away, settling itself back on Professor McGonagall's hip, where she pretends not to take notice.]
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and there is the flask, so generously provided by Professor McGonagall. ⟫
And with such ease she has beaten every septa I ever had to encounter.
⟪ Sugar and milk are forgone immediately, then, as she watches the flask pour its contents all on its own. The fascination is plain on her face, still. How long she will need to get used to this, only the Gods know.
From her own dress, she draws the list the professor had given each of them. Half of it sounds entirely insane to her: a magic wand, for one, each and every single potion ingredient for another. Much of the rest is simply a foreign concept: for instance when she requires new gowns, she summons her seamstresses. At no point in her life has she ever had to go to one's shop.
She finds herself suddenly and secretly glad that they had already been given some of what they will need. Well, the things one does for a little bit of power. ⟫
Tell me you have done this before.
⟪ yes. yes, she means shopping. ⟫
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I need one of those. )
'This'...? Oh, yeah. ( Tony groks her meaning a second later. He lives something of a world apart from others, and he knows it, and though shopping like Normal People is something he has the privilege of choosing to do, he's reasonably sure that nobility of her caliber would never see the inside of a store.
Never really considered it a skill set... Scratching idly at his jaw, he continues, )
Nothing to it. If the retailers are coordinating with the school, we should be in and out, no problem. Each place might even have everything bundled together, if this is the only decent shopping district in the community.
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After a moment's recovery: ⟫
Gods, you might as well be speaking in tongues. ⟪ Another sip, a more careful one, this time, and for all the way she seemed annoyed a moment ago, there is also a spark of intrigue in her eyes. It's true that this is far from an everyday occurrence for her, and yet, that gives the whole thing an adventurous tone to it. ⟫ Will you accompany me?
⟪ It's as close to asking for help as she is likely to get. ⟫
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Sure. I'm game. ( Movement around them, the slow completion of several breakfasts and other pots of tea on other tables, tells him they will need to gather their things in a handful of minutes, but right now he remains unhurried, sedate with his cup. )
Where did you say you were from again, Cersei?
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It's evident that she is unused to it, from the quirk of her eyebrow to the slight shift at being called by nothing but her first name. She understands that the formalities here are lacking, that they are in the same boat –– she's simply not used to it. That's all.
At least she can gracefully incline her head at what she hopes is an informal agreement to her request. ⟫
I hail from Westeros. King's Landing. ⟪ Not strictly accurate, but well enough. ⟫ What of you?
⟪ The urge to call him 'Lord Stark' is barely curbed, he holds no lordship – does he? Is he tied to the Starks proper? ⟫
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If he met her on her turf, in this Westeros, she would be 'Your Highness', but here? They are on equal footing. Really, she's taking it like a champ. )
Oh, right. ( Like he might have heard of it in passing, having neglected to visit during his last trip overseas. Cersei is from an entirely different world, a different earth, a different dimension and time, mathematical improbability given form as a golden-haired Queen with a velvet voice and clever look, and he wants to know more, everything about her and where she's come from. )
The United States. Malibu. Here, ( He explains, flipping to a new page in his moleskin and turning it sideways, sketching out a small, quick and dirty map of the world from memory, more or less semi-accurate outlines of the continents, if not accurate in size, )
This is where we are- ( Circling a spot, he scoots his chair closer to hers, ) London, England, in the United Kingdom. And all the way over here- ( Across the Atlantic, where he circles the SoCal coast, ) Malibu. Mostly-accurate.
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A bit of envy in noticing that, perhaps, but not enough to hold her back. He knows this world, likely knows its history, and she can't begin to guess at either of these things. If she is seeking an ally – and she is in dire need of one – he is right there, offering knowledge, and while she may be more familiar with an approach more rich in formality, it is not a bad thing for him to treat her so much as an equal. For one, he does not reek of a climber.
He scoots his chair closer, and she does not shift away. Pleasant company is well-allowed to invade her space. ⟫
Western coast. One could say the same of me. ⟪ Though none of the shapes of his map are all that close to those of her own world. ⟫
Mine is a different world, as you have guessed. ⟪ He had not said it out loud, but this was a clear lesson. She is hesitant to demand his strange quill of him, resting her hand roughly over his Americas, palm facing up. ⟫ If my hand is Westeros, then this landmass – ⟪ pointing, with her free hand, to his approximation of Eurasia ⟫ – is roughly akin to Essos.
Roughly.
⟪ It needs the emphasis. Then, she points it out on her hand: ⟫ My thumb would be Casterly Rock, in the Westerlands, where I was born and raised. Opposite of it is King's Landing, in the Crownlands, with the Red Keep, where the royal family has resided for the past three centuries.
⟪ His turn again, which means it's time for her to pose more questions before he realises that her sex should bar her from all of this to some degree. ⟫ Have you known anyone who has been to this city – to London – before?
⟪ Merchant friends, perhaps, or sailors he met at the port of this Malibu. The idea that he could have simply gone himself is... unlikely. Not impossible, but even if the map is scarcely to scale, this must be a journey that takes months by ship. ⟫
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Here? Oh, me, all the time. ( He says it so confidently, missing why it might seem so outlandish to her. ) Not as much in the 80's, but I know my way around, if we ever get a chance to explore.