TheDookieNut

Year One [ Closed for TheDookieNut and El Taco Taco ]

Awwh. :)
I imagine Theo to look a lot like Ben Barnes but younger

Year One [ Closed for TheDookieNut and El Taco Taco ]

Theo hadn't exactly been the one to talk about the people he hated and those he didn't consider a friend. Their mother had said he got his temper and superiority complex from their father. So long as neither of them would end up reliving the life the man had, neither of them had seemed too bothered; at least until George noticed how much his mum saw their father in his face. Bastard genetics... He'd be okay so long as nobody paid attention. There had to be other Death Eater's kids in the school, they were all probably fine. That was how things tended to work, people just didn't care, right? George glanced up at Sadie and smiled. He shook his head. He could hear his brother's voice in his head. How can an eleven year old have the weight of the world on his shoulders? Grow up, George

"Honestly, it's fine. Brothers are like that." He commented, gathering what was left of his cards.The box had been enchanted on purchase, a simple repairing charm fixed each of the cards once they returned to their packaging. Perhaps they were a more expensive brand. He stuffed them back into his pocket and turned his eyes out the window. He had no idea where they were now or how long it would be until they arrived at school. He dreaded to think in all honesty. His stomach was leaping and jumping around. Was it this normal to be nervous? The sounds coming from the compartments on either side of them indicated just how excited everyone seemed to be. Then there was Sadie who seemed to be bouncing off every wall.

"What sort of things did you do then? You know, as a muggle?" Perhaps he sounded ignorant, yet he knew very little of the muggle world. He'd seen muggles living in his neighbourhood but he didn't know what they did for fun, or where they went to school. "Did you go to school as a kid? There is no other school for wizards. We're all home taught."

Year One [ Closed for TheDookieNut and El Taco Taco ]

Theo was the very personification of the middle class wizarding world. Like most Pureblood families, the Nott's came from a rich history, linking back to the Black family as most did nowadays. Both boys had been raised in a household, although unstable, had been 'proper'. It had rubbed off more on Theo than it had on George. The taller, black haired boy smiled and disappeared towards the door. The book in his hands was thick, ancient in appearance and clearly well-read. On close examination, several of the pages could be seen to be dislodged and no longer connected to the spine of the white cased tome. Inside was passages George could never understand. He'd stole a moment to try and work out exactly what had been keeping his brother so quiet over the last year, but inside were confusing texts and passages written in a language he didn't know. Theo had told him they were Runes from time to time but he still didn't understand. Earlier in the summer, he had managed to work out partially at what Theo had hoped to do with his life after Hogwarts. The day they took a trip to Diagon Alley, Theo had expressed a great interest in the wand George had been given. Aspen, something Theo had seemed to think had made a lot of sense. Dragon Heart String, something Theo seemed almost hesitant in.. It worried George, he didn't understand what it meant but if it was going to make school worse-

Theo seemed to stop in the doorway, another voice bursting over their ears. The newcomer was clearly talking to Sadie, whoever he was. Mum? Her brother? He glanced over to Theo and watched his head raise a little; a trait he'd taken up from his uncle. He smirked and scoffed.

"Ethans." He muttered curtly. Clearly they hated each other for whatever reason. George felt his mind race, he was worried. If they hated his brother, would they hate him too? For what his father did.. Probably. He didn't want them too, school was already going to be difficult. It hadn't occurred to him, despite the news that Sadie had shared, that the two were Quidditch rivals. His own brother had been a chaser for over a year now, despite his height he was exceptionally quick. "I'm sure I'll see you on the field this year, best not to fly into the wall again. Sometimes it hard to keep up with better players." His accent was richer than his brother's, heavy in an Oxford tone. Theo smiled and pushed past him into the corridor again, leaving George watching the two. Sadie's brother looked almost like he was going to explode himself. He wouldn't have been surprised if his brother ended up with a black eye before the train ride was over.

Then the boy turned his attention to them both. He felt eyes on himself, uncomfortably. Discerning? What was he, an animal? George felt annoyed, stressed almost. How exactly was he lesser? So his brother and the boy didn't get on, he didn't exactly care. He wasn't his brother, he was just related to him. As they were both related to a mass murderer.

Running. Dead. Infected. (The Walking Dead/The Last of Us Style RP)

Sorry for the hiatus.. Generally lost interest in everything.

A second thing: does anyone have the last of us remastered? could do with playin with a friend, all my friends have xbox's

Winter's Child

Position? He could easily imagine what. Head of guard, knight, lord, adviser, council.. Above all, Roran wished for his home. He hadn't been old enough to remember it when he'd left. In his memories he saw white walls and dozens of tiny streets that spidered away like rivers and streams. He could remember climbing the roof of one of the taller houses, looking out at a vast and busy city filled with vibrant red cloths. He could never see a sigil on the banners, no marks of a ruling house. People spoke of his Riverland's heritage yet Roran saw no signs of silver oaks.. He held the secret belief he'd been born in one of the few remaining free cities to the South and the West, although war and the ever increasing slave trade grew in on the shores beyond Andor. He smiled as calmly as he could and sighed gently. He wasn't going to lie to her.

"I'll be trailed." He feared the possibility of execution yet being punished by the Gods for having their newest queen killed by the man who called himself King. The blonde soon nodded. She had a point. Derrin would return before the night was up, now was their best chance. He waited patiently before stepping outside in the silence quietly. He heard nothing, only the faint sound dripping somewhere in the keep. He was grateful for the silence for now. The last thing they needed was a fight. Roran was barely armed.. He checked each hallway and carried her on extended and emptier routes than some of the faster paths they could have taken. He crept along on shorter hall and stopped outside the kitchen.

They both waited. Roran turned to her and placed a finger on his lip. The cook may have been asleep but he may have also been awake. Regardless, they needed food. He'd need to make sure to retrieve the rest of his own weapons before leaving. Ysabel could easily use his own sword, she was handy enough with one. The last item were horses, that however depended on the time. Horses weren't silent like men. One noise and they'd be found as easily as that. Roran slowly peered his head round the door, staring into the dimly lit kitchen. He could smell no food nor see no fire burning, something which he believed indicated a lack of life. He waved and stepped into the threshold of the kitchen. Food was kept in various places, but they'd need pots and pans too. He took up a sack and slowly emptied a number of potatoes from the bottom. They'd use this until Roran found his own bags. That meant a trip into his own lodgings, something he felt was all too dangerous.

"Look for food and pans. Nothing that will rot soon, its at least a months ride and even longer on foot." He muttered, keeping his voice low and deep. He disappeared along the stone floors, grabbing bread and items he felt were fresh. They'd find things on the way, no doubt they'd find farms or inns that would somehow provide for them. The more he thought about the task at hand, the worse he felt. He'd deliver Ysabel to the Desert City and travel home from there. He couldn't return to Cannor after that. He'd take a ship to the West and travel until he saw something that resembled home. No doubt he'd find something better before then, providing he didn't die before they reached the God's Waste.

He filled his bag with various items and returned to the door, the bag slung over his shoulder. He paused for Ysabel and smiled.
"Are you okay?" He asked, cautious of her possible thoughts. She hadn't voiced them for a while and perhaps now wasn't truly the time. However, he feared she shared the same vague regret he did.

((Apologies!))

Casual-Advanced // Mass Search \\

BUMP

[ADV] An Immerse Hogwarts Experience!

So down!

The Ministry has fallen.... They are coming- a Harry Potter RP (Cautious Cretin and The Dookie Nut)

Watching the flames grow and swell, the heat increasing with every inch in height, was comforting in a sense. Despite the smell and despite the high temperatures, people showed a vague shine of hope. The inferi were failing as the flames lapped and barked at them. The roar of the flames seemed to drown out some of the quieter shrieks yet nothing could really stop them. The powers combined for each of the witches and wizards involved was a powerful and beautiful sight. To see exactly what the determined forces of Ministry loyalists could do was comforting and reassuring. Watching the efforts of each caster there, seeing their unique talents. It didn't take a genius to understand that despite what would lay beyond the fires, the inferi and the doors, some people were less nervous. The Auror's were feeling the familiar feelings of growing victory, an upper hand, the civilians couldn't easily hide the vague elation some of them had.

It was until the cold set in. It was an unnatural cold, a harsh wind on a summer's day. A looming black cloud on a clear blue sky. It was a simple drop in temperature that caused George's heart to thunder in his chest. His hands pulled into themselves, tightly gripping whatever was nearest; one being his wand, the other being his own fist. He could see the fire decreasing in size, the floor beneath his feet chilling until the soles of his own feet were beginning to chill and freeze. He took a stumbling step back, as if trying to combat the icy floor would stop the one thing on the earth he'd never wanted to see again. The dead hands and grotesque mouth beneath the hood. His heart continued to pound, visibly had he been laid down. It thundered in his chest, the feeling of his stomach twisting and knotting growing stronger as the things got closer. He couldn't see them yet, he couldn't see anything. He stared straight ahead, watching the black figures drift closer through the huge wall of ice. Yet, the images didn't rest in his eyes, instead he saw a world made entirely of shadows, a place similar to the Ministry yet without light.

The world George saw was black, dark and twisted. The huge wall of ice remained yet it was black and dripping black liquid as if melting. His hands shook, no matter how hard he balled them. No matter how hard he tried to keep himself in the real world, he couldn't. He could hear a voice on his right, but the words weren't human. They were merely sounds, vague snippets of meaningless dribble. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, his throat, his ears, and his own mouth. The sound of blood rushing past his ears was immensely loud, much louder than anything else he'd ever experienced. His body shivered, laced with a freezing layer of cold sweat, chilling him to the core. The dreaded feeling of hopelessness, despair, insecurity and the hideous sense of his own real mortality took over. This was it, he was actually going to die. It wasn't going to be by the wand like he'd always hoped, but through the kiss like his brother had thrown at him during his trial eight years ago.

George lifted his eyes, each glazed, and watched at the first of what was probably far too many appeared over the ice wall. He shivered, a wave of nausea, agony, fear and sheer terror formed within his stomach. He could hear things he'd forced out of his own head. His dad's response to his Second eldest brother's retreat to Ukraine, his parents response to his own desire to join the Ministry, the hideous noise that filled the house when his eldest brother did something wrong. The pained screams of the muggle family next door when his father had finally had enough of their 'ignorance and insolence'. The noise filled him, pulling every vague hope and fantasy he'd ever had from his head.

His appearance and struggle, however, was noticed. Travers, the strong and tall looking wizard on George's right pulled himself closer to George and shook on the boy's shoulder.

"Nott?" The sound passed through into George's hearing, although remained distorted and twisted. "George, now isn't the time." There had been a small number of instances that involved the sight of a dementor since the introduction of what now seemed to be a paralyzing phobia. Most of which came from a Dark Wizard trial that whoever had caught the villain had been forced to sit in. His return from those meetings as a pale and shadow of his usual self had clearly been noticed yet a small trip up the corridor and into the large office they all shared, kept his fear pretty quiet and close to home. Travers again shook his friend and co-worker, although panic was clear on the elder man's face now. Even despite the remaining few, neither of the two could feel the inspiration and new found determination that the Minister seemed to shower on most of them. Travers took a step forwards and placed himself between the oncoming beasts and George, he could provide more protection from the front and the sooner they were free from the cold, the sooner they'd be back on their feet as a group.

George couldn't however take his eyes off the hoods and floating cloaks. He shivered constantly and desperately fought his need to close his eyes and curl up. It was embarrassing, humiliating. Some distance part of his brain, perhaps the only part of him that spoke sense, pushed hard against the fear. George knew the spell, he couldn't cast a fully formed patronas but the shield of light he knew would help was far out of his reach. He stared ahead, his eyes and body wincing as a strong white light appeared by his side. He turned to his left and spotted Caroline, or what he assumed was Caroline. He heard more and more of the real world yet his feet and eyes remained fixed ahead on the creatures that he feared so much. If they survived this, and George knew they wouldn't, only a fool would believe they had a chance, he'd need to push hard, to save face and his own job. He knew full well that the sight of himself staring with direct and uncontrollable fear was something he'd clearly lose his job over. He couldn't lose his job.. He needed this, he enjoyed it, but he knew he would lose it, if he didn't die instead.

The racing thoughts within his own head were strong and dark, each one picturing the various ways he'd possibly die. There were some he preferred and some he'd shivered against. He was afraid, incredibly yet he couldn't shake them away. Vivid green light, strong hands ripping at his skin, pained screams and agonising torture, fire, snakes, The Kiss. The wave of nausea grew and grew, his shivering sweats growing stronger and stronger. The small part of his brain kept saying four words, over and over, barely audible against the intense despair that lingered within his own head.

Stay standing. Expecto Patronum. Stay standing. Expecto Patronum. Stay standing. Expecto Patronum. Stay standing. Expecto Patronum.

The Ministry has fallen.... They are coming- a Harry Potter RP (Cautious Cretin and The Dookie Nut)

The sound was intense, screaming, gurgling and pained shrieks that would haunt the dreams of any man, echoed off the walls, the floors and the ceilings. It wasn't like the shriek of a banshee or a hinkypunk but something unworldly and strange, alien and grotesque. George felt the hair on his arms raise up, his skin crawling. It was hard to truly comprehend that the things before them were wizards, muggles and witches only they'd been forced into a unnatural state. Never peaceful. Never silent. Always angry. Never free. However, he carried on, joining in the constant battle to destroy each of the creatures before they destroyed the Ministry.

As the battle drew on, people began to notice the plan form. George pulled from his attack and watched Caroline. She was incredibly smart. He turned back to the oncoming horde and spyed the large fire. Others began to understand too, piling more and more of their own magic onto the fire, helping to build it higher and higher. Emilie, a tall, pale girl he believed worked in St Mungo's department within the Ministry changed up her tactics to defensive spells. With a raise of her wand she pushed herself to project a shield between the growing fire whose flames now licked eight feet tall, and those who were casting. Another Auror joined in too, helping the girl to keep them all protected. The inferi were strong and a threat but so was the huge fire that was building up.

Soon the smell of the attack was drifting back to them. It was a thick stench; if clung to the throats of the smeller, forcing itself to be breathed again and again. There was no stopping it. The smell had a similar consistency to treacle, thick, black and sickly. Some of the volunteers covered their mouths, desperate to keep back the smell of burnt and charred flesh, most of which was already rotting. It was a powerful aroma, I unpleasant and almost toxic. It felt like a smog, flooding the lungs upon intake. Many coughed and spluttered, unable to take the taste that lingered on their throat and along their tongue.

"What's your plan, Quinn?" George asked, adding to the protected fire once more. She was more clever than he'd anticipated, especially after he'd previously expected her to be fleeing the Ministry after his awful prep-talk. He knew full well she'd follow him down and fight to the death, yet her intelligence shocked him completely. Whatever she was planning was brilliant, the horde were travelling slower, pushing back from the flames. At least You Know Who hadn't released an army of dementors, upon them all. He couldn't expect anyone to deal with those. He knew the Auror's could handle it, yet Dementors weren't slow. They'd suck the souls from everyone around, without mercy.

In the moments he dwelled on the subject, George felt his stomach lurch and his heart race. His hands became clammy and it took him a moment to recompose his demeanour and his composure but soon he was done, adding to the flames once more.

The Ministry has fallen.... They are coming- a Harry Potter RP (Cautious Cretin and The Dookie Nut)

George jogged ahead, joining the remaining stragglers. His feet were heavy, lined with his own hidden fear of mortality. He knew he'd die one day, it was likely to be on the end of a wand; or if his brother had his way, simply with a kiss. George felt his skin crawl, hairs rising across his arms. A quick hand to the back of his neck, he checked the area for Dementors before relaxing. No one was relaxing though. The Auror's stood still, faces plain, stone and emotionless. The rest of George's own team were trying the same, yet untrained hands twitched and nervously spun wands between fingers. Each of them was aware that all efforts over the last seventeen years or so, would have been completely for none. They were all aware they'd know faces ahead, they'd be fighting against forces they'd already fought before. It wasn't going to be easy. Not even in the slightest.

George moved towards his friends and smiled. George slapped a hand on the back of one of the other men, each trying to provide some form of comforting and supportive notion. They had each other's back but the Minister came first. They stood silent for a brief moment before words escaped, small and vaguely audible.

"Thickness cast it." Traver's spoke, noticing Nott's eyes glance up. They'd all seen it before. It was preemptive but true. There would be more than one life lost this morning. George passed his eyes along the congregation, McDougal, Horst, Smith, Kevins, Dias-Dougan... He let out a sigh and nervously twisted his wand.

"Why didn't anyone notice? He's the head of department... The Auror's should have seen." George commented, his voice still low. It was a conversation for himself and a select few only. The various brave souls who were joining them didn't need to know. It was heart breaking enough to know that those on the other side of the door were threatening their entire world. The Ministry was all the British Wizarding World stood for, besides Hogwarts. However, the castle would remain silent until the students returned at the beginning of September. George forced himself to believe it would be all over before then.

More than a few people heard the Minister's comment. You Know Who was coming but despite everything, no one wanted to believe the idea. He was powerful, although George had never witnessed his strength himself, and everyday he counted himself lucky. He knew a few in the room would have, very few who did lived to tell the tale, unless they stood opposite the Ministry. George saw both of the Thursby's hold hands, out of hideous fear. Andries, worked in Quidditch Rulings, wasnt the type to survive, but seeing him stand strong with his girlfriend Emilie, George felt almost protective. They weren't even married and from the various rumours he'd heard, she was expecting. He'd never considered how so many people would be so willing to lay their lives for the Ministry.

George turned his head, watching the rest of his squad tense up as three figures hurried towards them. Inferi? On either side, everyone tensed. They weren't dealt with often, but the idea of an army which had been long speculated concerned him. Fire was the main way of dealing with an inferius, but an army- He knew it would only be so long before someone tried to fix the problem themselves. Fire may have been a charm, something controlled mostly by charm spells and summoning, but it was still uncontrollable. Light also worked, but lacked the real power before flames and fire.

Without question or consideration, they moved. Shuffling forwards and setting themselves into two lines, the Minister behind them all. They watched as the stragglers wandered around, eventually finding a place to stop. The comforting note was simply to know that the Inferi couldn't hurt them if they never got close, despite how many there was, or would be. They were frightening, and George held them high on his list of reoccurring nightmares but they weren't the first, they never would be.

Hearing Caroline's voice pulled him from the distance thoughts he had drifting cloaks and icy breath. He glanced down for a second, two eyes pulling themselves back up to watch the entrance once more. They couldn't miss the first movement, the first wave, even if it was only the dead. He listened, waiting quietly, knowing they'd wait until someone lost their cool before engaging the attack. Someone would be watching. George nervously fidgeted with the designs along the handle of his wand, playing a finger on the leaf pattern that traced up the left side.

"Fire. They hate fire." He spoke shortly after herself, quietly and calmly. "If you see the fire getting out of control, you get out." There was the possibility of someone casting a fiendfyre. They were almost uncontrollable. They didn't need to get dispersed and killed by their own kind. "If the worst comes to worst, the Minister will unlock the fireplaces again. You can apirate from the entrances." He stood still for a moment before someone finally cracked.

She was a tall women, thickly built and a strong arm, Auror too. She launched a burst of flames into the front line of the dead, soon followed by a few more.
"Incendo."
"Lumos solem."
"Confringo!" George yelled, sending his own spell speeding towards the oncoming hordes of the dead. The spell launched a flicker of orange, leaving it to speed ahead and explode into flames upon contact with the first inferius. As each flame hit and as each burst of sunlight found its way onto the creatures' skin, a revolting, ear-piercing, teeth grinding scream could be heard. It was harsh but high pitched and dangerously loud.

The line held steady, flames pushing forwards from each wand until the dead fell back down. As each one went down, they could all just how many more there were. It was going to be relentless but they couldn't stop now. Wands sent sparks, flames, and even redundant spells that would not stop the creatures but were shot out of fear. George could see the faces of panicked wizards and witches. He couldn't ease their pain, not without the help of every other wizard in the Ministry.

George checked on Caroline for the briefest second and felt the uncomfortable pang of guilt. She'd probably die because of him. He could try and protect her but not even a shield charm could protect her from the worst. George turned back and launched another spell, sending it speeding alongside ever more continuous waves of the undead. They would keep up the fight until death took them, but even now people were noticing the line pushing closer and closer towards them.

"Confringo Expulso." One of the Hit Wizards yelled, sending similar sparks ahead. They reached a closer inferius and exploded, continuing on with each and every spark and flame. The spell took out forty or so inferi but it wasn't enough. They were still closing in. Each wizard carried on casting. Each spell used to hold back the line.