Log in

No account? Create an account
Castigat Mores [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

[ website | Castigat Mores, Hogwarts 1858 RPG ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

Sorting Ceremony... [Jul. 24th, 2004|02:10 pm]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858
[mood |indescribableindescribable]

Still standing along the railing of the staircase leading into the Great Hall, his arms crossed and robes neatly arranged, Tiberius watched as the returning students made their way past him and into the Hall to their respective tables. He nodded his head in greeting to several passing by addressing him, but did not speak in reply, nor would it be customary for him to have done so.

As the last few young men past by him, and the staircase fell into a short silence, the doors to the Great Hall cutting off the sound of the students inside, the Arithmancy professor sighed and checked his pocket watch once more, while there were none around to see him do so, and find the action imprudent. Another minute or so, he figured, and the girls and first year boys would be entering.

He began pacing slightly again, a few steps and no more, his shoes making dull thunks on the stone flooring as he did. Finally, the sound of entering students, and dear Merlin, chatty females, drifted in. Steeling himself for any stereotypical swoony girls that would easily make his evening more of a nightmare, since they would most likely find concentrating on anything remotely important difficult. Would they even absorb half of Avery's address? Probably not.

As they appeared on the stairs before him, Tiberius motioned for them to congregate there. When all were assembled, he addressed them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Deveraux, and I will be escorting you into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony in a few moments." His face appeared rather indifferent, and he kept moving his gaze over the students. Some looked promising, others... well, he hoped he'd be proven wrong.

"When we enter, you will be called to the front, you will sit on the stool and you will have the Sorting Hat placed upon your head. It will place you in one of four houses... they are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. Your accomplishments and failures will reflect on your house. For your triumphs you will earn points, for any rule breaking, you will lose points. The house with the most points at the end of the year will be awarded the House Cup."

Uncrossing his arms, Tiberius gave one ruley boy who was pointing at the girl in front of him and making faces a cold glare, causing him to pale, then added, "Now, I will see if they are ready for you. Wait here and... keep silent." Then he quickly entered the Hall to await Lord Avery's signal.
link45 comments|post comment

And we're off! ((anyone)) [Jul. 23rd, 2004|10:44 am]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858
"Mother, I'll be fine," Phineas sighed, trying to wriggle out of Ethelinda's grasp, but she held firm to his shoulders, and looked directly into his eyes.

"Too right you will," she said in a fierce, but quiet voice. "And you'll do us proud, too, won't you, Phineas?"

"Yes," he hissed in irritation, "now may I go?"

She slapped him. "Treat your mother with more respect than that!"

He rubbed his cheek furiously, but replied dutifully, "Yes, Mother."

She smiled at him, and pulled him close for a moment, then pushed him away gently. "On your way, then, boy."

"Goodbye, Mother." He pushed his luggage along the station.

"Write to us!" she called after him, and he turned to look over his shoulder and wave at her as she disapeared into the crowd.
link1 comment|post comment

Awaiting the arrivals... [Jul. 19th, 2004|08:27 am]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858
[mood |pessimisticpessimistic]

Well, a summer of anticipation, preparation, and general chaos amongst the staff, and the day had arrived. The students would be returning that evening, along with their skirted counterparts. The sanctity of Hogwarts would never be restored.

Mind you, Tiberius felt that some had more wit about them than others; perhaps even the knack, (may he dare think it) for more meaningful pursuits than that of home and husband? A few perhaps. Still, throwing the sexes in together could not possibly prove conducive to learning. Girls flitting about, flashing their smiles and dropping their things, then their men going pathetically hormonal upon sight of some trollup. He could imagine the notes in class, love-sick stares, and arguments over possession already. No, Hogwarts most certainly would not recover.

They could have made things easier and made a school for the girls, rather than spend the time on preparing Hogwarts facilities for them. Left things as they ought to be and yet still educate the witches. But then the Ministry didn't always display the sense he himself possessed. Pity, that.

While all this ran through his head, Professor Deveraux stood outside the Great Hall, pacing, slightly, his arms crossed and his thoughts completely engrossed on something other than his location and whether or not he was there alone.

He swore he'd be enjoying a drink with dinner should he hear one flirtatous giggle drift through the halls as they entered! Exactly, how strict were they on their acceptance policy again?
link6 comments|post comment

Boarding (Alzbeta, Cath_K, Jed, or anyone) [Jul. 16th, 2004|07:49 pm]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

[mood |excitedexcited]

Her father wasn’t quite clear as to how to get through the barrier but she had managed and even though she stumbled and dropped a bag, she recovered without a hitch and held her arm out for a smoky black owl to land on her arm.
“Good boy, Jinx, sorry about that,” she whispered to him, smiling and raising her eyebrows. He hooted in compliance and pecked gently at her neck, assuring her he was alright. “I think you have to go in your cage now, Jinx.” She pouted for him and moved to a wall, away from the crowds of people plowing their way to the train and claiming seats. She wanted on fast so she could claim an empty compartment herself.
With her back against the wall, she bent down and lowered Jinx into the cage and snapped it shut, apologizing for a few moments and stroking his feathery neck before she straightened. She stood just in time to see a girl slip through the barrier, followed by another girl and then meet up with a boy in a strangely shaped hat.
A loud tooting came from the train and it brought her attention back to finding an empty cabin for herself. She quickly forgot about the others around her and brought her luggage to the appropriate place and shuffled quickly on board with only a small bag hanging limply in her hand. The aisles on the train were packed with students scrambling into cabins with friends and as she pushed her way through, glancing briefly into cabins, she was lucky to find one at the end as the crowd dispersed and thinned out.
She slipped into it and grabbed a seat near the window and pulled her feet up under her and rested her bag in her lap, sighing and smirking at the window. She checked an old pocket watch attached to the bag in her lap.
“Nearly time to leave,” she whispered, leaning forward and watching people scramble about. She rested her chin on her fist and looked at the barrier, hoping, but not holding her breath, that her father would come through and see her off, but no one, except a few rushing first years and their mothers came jostling through. She had noticed owls, and cats being caged or trapped into baskets, a toad that had gotten away from his or her owner, and the girls she had seen earlier, making their way to the train.
She picked at her shoes dully.
A startling knock, rapid and hard came from the window and she jumped back in her seat before looking out it. And to her surprise was her father, smiling at her with an envelope and a package in his hands. She couldn’t help but smile back and fumble for the latch on the window. The train tooted again and steam rose into the air casing the platform in a rusty dirty, but satisfying, smell. Before the window, on his tip-toes was her father, a tall, lanky man with round thick glasses and a handsome face, showing only some signs of age. He had removed his bowler hat she adored and wasn’t aware of his black hair that was messy and oily, he must have dressed in a rush. But he smoothed it mechanically.
“Father, you made it,” she shocked herself and her father by leaning dangerously out the window and hugging him.
“I wouldn’t miss it. I knew you thought I wouldn’t be here, but I am. I’m here for you and I know I’m late so I wrote this in case I couldn’t say everything I wanted to before you left. But I am proud of you. No matter what your uncles say, I am proud.” He smiled delightfully at her, something she hadn’t seen in so long, perhaps ever.
“I know papa, I know,” her innocence came and she held in tears. She had waited so long for him to notice her and now that she was leaving, he had. She took the letter and the package from him and held it in her hand tightly, not wanting to lose it.
“Nyssa,” he took her chin in his hand, “I must get going but remember I love you, darling.”
“I love you too, papa,” she bent down again for a hug and was glad to be met by his. He kissed her forehead and waved as he made his way to the barrier and slipped through it. She sat back in her seat, shut the window and smiled, still holding the letter in her hand. “He’s proud of me.” She told herself, looking at the letter in her hand and desiring the company of others. She watched as people slowly emptied the platform and boarded the train as the final whistled sounded.
link1 comment|post comment

Beware the Dalmeiiers [Jul. 14th, 2004|01:29 am]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858
"C'mon, Emmy, if you do not hurry your boots, we shall surely be late, and I shall miss my first train ride to Hog--OOF!" Piper Dalmeiier was cut off as a trunk swung into her trajectory, sending her piling forward. Gangly and ungainly in Muggle clothing, she had never been the ballerina type to begin with, and the addition of the trunk in her path was enough to knock her feet out from under her.

Emeric Dalmeiier, who had been commanding the trunk with his wand from several feet away and scowling at his twin's words, glanced wide-eyed at their mother and then raced forward to help his sister to her feet. "I told you not to call me that," he hissed as he hefted her back onto her laced boots. "It is Emeric or nothing else."

About to open her mouth to thank him, Piper decided against it and just gave him a hooded look. "I believe we are even, then, for that was your trunk in my path."

"If you had been looking where you were setting those oafish feet of yours--"

Fannie Dalmeiier cleared her throat behind her children and they immediately sprang around with identical guilty looks. "Is that fighting I hear?" the noblewoman asked starchly, looking from one face to the other.

"No, mother."

"Nay, mother."

"Then I expect the both of you to behave."

"Yes, mother."

"Of course, mother."

Fannie broke her stiff posture to stoop down to give both of her children a hug, pulling each close with one arm. "This is as far as I go. The two of you behave at Hogwarts--Emeric, watch out for your sister," and Fannie held her son's gaze for a long moment, "and Piper, do try to stay out of trouble. I love you both."

With their mother gone, Piper could not help but feel a bit lost. If Hogwarts were anywhere near as bad as Emeric had described, she could not possibly be facing a good year; however, she was an unsinkable optimist, and she was bound to make the best of it. She looked at her brother, still two inches shorter than her (to his annoyed disbelief). "This has been your school longer than it has been mine. You first, dear brother."

Emeric nodded. "Very well."

He twitched his wand and waved their trunks through, following quickly after them to make sure that the inevitable crash did not happen. However, he did not think to watch out for Piper, who came through right after him--and promptly collided with another student.

"Oh, bugger," Emeric swore, and hurried over to stop any incidents.
link1 comment|post comment

Getting There (Chester, anyone, particularly that delightfully mad-cap Albus) [Jul. 13th, 2004|12:48 am]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

[mood |rather winded, thank you.]

((Disclaimer: Author is not responsible for any initial weirdness that takes place in this post. 'Tis late, 'tis pity; 'tis pity 'tis true.))

The large gray owl hooted and opened its enormous wings just slightly as it was jostled out of position, as if to say, Watch it there, chap. Chester Lovegood, upon whose head it was currently perched, did not seem to know the diffrence in the bird's demeanor. Indeed, he was currently occupied by dodging a group of Muggles that were too busy gawking to notice where they were going.

You would think they've never seen an owl riding on a boy's head before. Really, it isn't...Merlin, what is that girl wearing? Is that really fashionable on Muggles? How can it be? Aren't they terribly uncomfo--"AAAAGGGGHHH!"

The exclamation was not a result of the oddities of Muggle dress, nor the precarious position of the bird of prey atop his head. It was, rather, a result of the fact that in being careful to observe both of these things, he had failed to notice where he was going, and had fallen head-long over a very large trunk on a cart.

Chester allowed his cycle of ill-formed somersaults to complete, then picked himself up, poked at the general area of his viscera for half a minute in order to assure that nothing in that region was irreparably damaged, and then, finally, looked up to see whose luggage he had spilled over.
link7 comments|post comment

Looking for the Train ((anyone)) [Jul. 12th, 2004|03:38 pm]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

[mood |frustratedfrustrated]

Jediah Pierce had arrived at King's Cross station a fair number of hours earlier than the Hogwarts Express was due to leave. This gave the eleven year old plenty of time to buy a meal (his aunt had insisted he not travel across the Atlantic by portkey with a full stomach - great wisdom Jed understood now). Once he finished that important bit of business, he wandered about the station trying to find platform nine and three quarters.

He'd found nine and ten easily enough, but several circuits around the station had still not revealled the train he was looking for. His trunk, getting dragged along behind him was starting to get really heavy, so he set it down near platform nine and used it for a bench while he tried to figure out what to do next. He was starting to worry that even with an hour left before the train left, he still wouldn't find where he was supposed to go in time.

Taking a moment, he removed the black cowbow hat with the bullet hole through the middle of it and used the rim to wipe some sweat from his brow. He'd gotten Pa to allow him to wear his usual ensemble of tattered western clothes on the promise that he changed into robes before getting on the Express, but he figured Pa would never know if he waited until just before getting off the Express. Robes were uncomfortable and Jed hated them. Gramps wore robes. Normal folk didn't.

Sighing to himself, he stood up once more and grabbed the handle of his trunk and started dragging it around again. "Ain't never this hard to find a tootin' train back home," he muttered irritably. "Ain't like ya kin hide a whole ruddy platform, kin ya? Eh, Leapin' Bighorn? Ya don't see no nine and three quarters nowhere, do ya?" This last was addressed to the brown toad riding along on the top of his trunk.

The toad unhelpfully ignored him.
link56 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Jul. 12th, 2004|07:32 pm]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858
Ebenezer Ludd stepped through the barrier of Platform 9 and 3/4 of King's Cross Station, nodded a friendly nod to the ghost of Queen Boudicca, and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the belching fumes. He had been in London only two days before to buy the books and supplies that now filled his portmanteau case and travelling trunk, and had hardly enjoyed it. The place smelled of Muggles, and not the sort who could still sense some of the magic of Britain, out in the countryside or by the sea. He was rather early, he reflected; eagerness, perhaps, or simply an excuse to find a decent carriage before the first years filled the place up with squabbling and nerves. And the witches too, he realised, with a start, noticing that quite a few of the higher pitched voices weren't coming from the lower years.

"Well," he muttered to himself, wholly unaccompanied by relatives, "Here we go to the future..."

(OOC- anybody's welcome to join in this thread- 6th years and Slytherins for preference ;) )
link31 comments|post comment

It's two minutes to twelve... [Jul. 10th, 2004|01:18 am]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

[mood |accomplishedaccomplished]

Let no one say Lord Rowan Aemilius Avery (TM) is not a man of his word! The site, or, rather, its original format (still need a lot of information to come up from the applications) is done.

Give it a look at


It's two minutes to my Witching Hour - meaning ten o'clock London time. I made it! I made it! *big grin*
link2 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Jul. 3rd, 2004|08:13 pm]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

Mere test post. Do excuse us - we most certainly shan't excuse you.
Rowan Avery
linkpost comment

[ viewing | 10 entries back ]
[ go | later ]