Brian Rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
subplotkudzu) wrote2008-07-29 05:19 am
subplotkudzu) wrote2008-07-29 05:19 am
Entry tags:
...and the Root of all Evil VII
Chapter 7: Scream
A week before Christmas Holiday and Mrs. Dee is back on campus. Osric delivered a letter to Castor and Pollux letting them know to expect her again, and the twins are once again listening at the door of the conference room under the guise of waiting for mum.
“Albus, Septima,” Mrs. Dee begins with a wearied tone, “I’ve looked over the books a dozen times and the school is just bleeding red ink. I don’t know how you managed to let things get into this bad a condition.”
“But they weren’t that bad…” Professor Vector mumbles, obviously hurt that her arithmancy skills are being called into question. “We were a little tight, but we always are this time of year as we’ve spent the initial operating funds. I don’t know what happened to my books, but these are not right…”
Castor mouths “Books stolen?” Pollux shrugs.
“Septima, the books you gave me match the ones at Gringotts, and those show a nightmare. There just aren’t funds. Food is the biggest concern, so the holiday feast is right out…”
Dumbledore sighs, a long rattling wheeze, “But I do so love that banquet, and I feel it is essential to keep up appearances in these cases. In the cases of credit the semblance is as important as the reality.”
“Albus, face facts: Gringotts is already calling in your debits and not extending more credit. The money just isn’t there. Maybe the board can arrange to float a loan but that would be difficult and public.”
There’s a dramatic pause, “This also means cancelling the Witches Bowl.” Strangely, none of the adults hear the gasp from outside, perhaps because of Septima’s sob. “We just cannot afford the expense of housing and feeding the teams plus their families. With the numbers I have in front of me it’s just not viable. I’m sorry.
“The only way to make ends meet through the end of the year is to let the film crews on now, despite the disruption, and hope that we can convert that cash flow fast enough to cover our debts.” Mrs. Dee concludes.
“If that’s our only option,” Dumbledore responds, with perhaps more humor in his voice than before, “then that’s the hand we’ll have to play. I’ll make the announcement about the Witches Bowl after holiday.”
Jasmyn has been blowing off the fan club/audition meetings, wanting nothing to do with the whole farce of a process. Rumors are flying around the school of how she’s overconfident, disdainful of the other actors and trading on her family name. Her position is not aided by the tales she’s hearing of Juliet bad mouthing the other finalists and the process, and how the two Ravenclaw girls are oh so superior. Juliet swears, of course, that she’s doing no such thing. Even rehearsals for Over Sea, Under Suspicion are becoming strained, with only Castor and Rowan really standing with her, the latter pouring out her hopes for the movie.
Eventually she and Daisy are once again cornered by Mr Mommenshanz. Manny makes them an impassioned plea – Scotog and the other financial backers have no artistic concerns, just monetary ones, as the Fontaine name is a good one. One he can pitch. One that they’ll buy into. Manny is trying to get Night the best possible co-star he can with the limited authority he has, and Jasmyn is most likely his best bet. The sisters see some validity to this, and confer briefly while Daisy scans a practiced eye over the contract. She’s sure it’s legit, and if Jasmyn isn’t involved how will they figure out what’s really going on? Jasmyn signs on, reluctantly
The next morning Rowan stomps over to Jasmyn, Juliet and the boys at breakfast – word of Jasmyn’s decision to try for the part has spread across the gossip vines like wildfire. Rowan is incensed, tearful, distraught, and when Juliet tries to calm her she is met with burning eyes, “I’m not talking to you. After what you said to me the other day, what makes you think I’m talking to you ever again?” And with that she leaves, burning with anger and shame with Juliet wondering what she’d said. Or what the other her had said.
It rains that night, a cold, dreary December rain of an unseasonably warm year. The next morning Flitwick informs the band (still no larger in students, alas) that he and Hagrid have arranged for them to meet outside and for Firenze to join them. “He’s right keen to play” says the big man. The centaur is waiting for them on the other side of the ha-ha, and Juliet, though distraught over her conversation with Rowan, manages to catch the looks flashing between Firenze and the prefect.
The practice is complex, exhausting & fulfilling, with Daisy’s charmed music hopefully doing something to lighten the mood on campus. Once they finish, Daisy gets permission from Flitwick to stay and discuss music with Firenze for a while, and the charms master agrees.
The two walk together through the damp, loamy earth at the edge of the forest, discussing music, history and travel. Firenze earnestly informs Daisy that this time with her has improved his music more than anything in 30 years. (Being a Ravenclaw she files this compliment with a footnote to look into Centaur lifespans – is he saying he’s 30 years old, or that he’s much older than that?) He asks after places she’s been, things that she’s seen, as his whole life has been spent either in this forest or the borderlands; centaurs cannot easily walk the Muggle world, much as he would like to see it someday. His tribesmen would not understand, as they have been in these woods since before the school was built, and most have never left its confines.
Daisy doesn’t realize the length of their walk until he points out that it is twilight, and she should get back to the school now. She does, with a small, shy wave that means the whole world. If only the Holiday didn’t start tomorrow… if only the school weren’t closed over the holiday this year for the filming (and the money, if the Dees were right)…if only she could stay….
That night Juliet is dreaming, a dream with her mother in the jungles that she so adored, with her mother looking at her lovingly. Mrs. Moore’s lips move out of time with her speech as she whispers “Scream.” Juliet awakens, shrieking, her magically augmented voice reverberating around their chamber and literally filling it with noise. To her right, crouching over Jasmyn’s bed, was a cloaked figure, it’s white, maggoty head next to Jasmyn’s.
The scream snaps Jasmyn to consciousness, blocking out all other sound. She feels the lips of the creature brushing her ear, and something prickling her neck, and with no thought grabs a book from her bedside table and whacks the thing. The pale, pinched, mud-streaked face fell away as the creature, shocked by these events, staggered into the center of the room. Both girls reached for their wands as it spun away towards the window. Juliet’s spell lit the figure’s cloak on fire as it dove, while Jasmyn’s wingarmium leviosa wrenched it upwards. Alas, she too just struck the cloak, ripping it away as the figure fell out the window. Juliet quickly extinguished the cloak while Jasmyn stared down at her attacker as the thing – wrinkled and club-footed, clung to the wall like a vine and made its escape into the darkness below Ravenclaw tower.
The two stare at the physical evidence – the muddy footprints and the cloak that, judging from its size and the ripped and muddy hem, was worn by someone little larger than Juliet. What was this thing? And would anyone believe them about the attack? Daisy certainly, and Castor, but for the others, it’s hard to say. Theo made a thorough search of their room, including taking a sample of the mud, and the professors acted concerned, but there was no harm done, little evidence and already rumors flying around of them losing control of their monster, or making the whole thing up to elicit sympathy. The students, it seems are against them. And of Rowan, at the Hogwarts train station, there is just one flash of white hair as the half dryad fled their presence. In the trip home at the end of break, the quartet of first years are, sadly, alone.
A week before Christmas Holiday and Mrs. Dee is back on campus. Osric delivered a letter to Castor and Pollux letting them know to expect her again, and the twins are once again listening at the door of the conference room under the guise of waiting for mum.
“Albus, Septima,” Mrs. Dee begins with a wearied tone, “I’ve looked over the books a dozen times and the school is just bleeding red ink. I don’t know how you managed to let things get into this bad a condition.”
“But they weren’t that bad…” Professor Vector mumbles, obviously hurt that her arithmancy skills are being called into question. “We were a little tight, but we always are this time of year as we’ve spent the initial operating funds. I don’t know what happened to my books, but these are not right…”
Castor mouths “Books stolen?” Pollux shrugs.
“Septima, the books you gave me match the ones at Gringotts, and those show a nightmare. There just aren’t funds. Food is the biggest concern, so the holiday feast is right out…”
Dumbledore sighs, a long rattling wheeze, “But I do so love that banquet, and I feel it is essential to keep up appearances in these cases. In the cases of credit the semblance is as important as the reality.”
“Albus, face facts: Gringotts is already calling in your debits and not extending more credit. The money just isn’t there. Maybe the board can arrange to float a loan but that would be difficult and public.”
There’s a dramatic pause, “This also means cancelling the Witches Bowl.” Strangely, none of the adults hear the gasp from outside, perhaps because of Septima’s sob. “We just cannot afford the expense of housing and feeding the teams plus their families. With the numbers I have in front of me it’s just not viable. I’m sorry.
“The only way to make ends meet through the end of the year is to let the film crews on now, despite the disruption, and hope that we can convert that cash flow fast enough to cover our debts.” Mrs. Dee concludes.
“If that’s our only option,” Dumbledore responds, with perhaps more humor in his voice than before, “then that’s the hand we’ll have to play. I’ll make the announcement about the Witches Bowl after holiday.”
Jasmyn has been blowing off the fan club/audition meetings, wanting nothing to do with the whole farce of a process. Rumors are flying around the school of how she’s overconfident, disdainful of the other actors and trading on her family name. Her position is not aided by the tales she’s hearing of Juliet bad mouthing the other finalists and the process, and how the two Ravenclaw girls are oh so superior. Juliet swears, of course, that she’s doing no such thing. Even rehearsals for Over Sea, Under Suspicion are becoming strained, with only Castor and Rowan really standing with her, the latter pouring out her hopes for the movie.
Eventually she and Daisy are once again cornered by Mr Mommenshanz. Manny makes them an impassioned plea – Scotog and the other financial backers have no artistic concerns, just monetary ones, as the Fontaine name is a good one. One he can pitch. One that they’ll buy into. Manny is trying to get Night the best possible co-star he can with the limited authority he has, and Jasmyn is most likely his best bet. The sisters see some validity to this, and confer briefly while Daisy scans a practiced eye over the contract. She’s sure it’s legit, and if Jasmyn isn’t involved how will they figure out what’s really going on? Jasmyn signs on, reluctantly
The next morning Rowan stomps over to Jasmyn, Juliet and the boys at breakfast – word of Jasmyn’s decision to try for the part has spread across the gossip vines like wildfire. Rowan is incensed, tearful, distraught, and when Juliet tries to calm her she is met with burning eyes, “I’m not talking to you. After what you said to me the other day, what makes you think I’m talking to you ever again?” And with that she leaves, burning with anger and shame with Juliet wondering what she’d said. Or what the other her had said.
It rains that night, a cold, dreary December rain of an unseasonably warm year. The next morning Flitwick informs the band (still no larger in students, alas) that he and Hagrid have arranged for them to meet outside and for Firenze to join them. “He’s right keen to play” says the big man. The centaur is waiting for them on the other side of the ha-ha, and Juliet, though distraught over her conversation with Rowan, manages to catch the looks flashing between Firenze and the prefect.
The practice is complex, exhausting & fulfilling, with Daisy’s charmed music hopefully doing something to lighten the mood on campus. Once they finish, Daisy gets permission from Flitwick to stay and discuss music with Firenze for a while, and the charms master agrees.
The two walk together through the damp, loamy earth at the edge of the forest, discussing music, history and travel. Firenze earnestly informs Daisy that this time with her has improved his music more than anything in 30 years. (Being a Ravenclaw she files this compliment with a footnote to look into Centaur lifespans – is he saying he’s 30 years old, or that he’s much older than that?) He asks after places she’s been, things that she’s seen, as his whole life has been spent either in this forest or the borderlands; centaurs cannot easily walk the Muggle world, much as he would like to see it someday. His tribesmen would not understand, as they have been in these woods since before the school was built, and most have never left its confines.
Daisy doesn’t realize the length of their walk until he points out that it is twilight, and she should get back to the school now. She does, with a small, shy wave that means the whole world. If only the Holiday didn’t start tomorrow… if only the school weren’t closed over the holiday this year for the filming (and the money, if the Dees were right)…if only she could stay….
That night Juliet is dreaming, a dream with her mother in the jungles that she so adored, with her mother looking at her lovingly. Mrs. Moore’s lips move out of time with her speech as she whispers “Scream.” Juliet awakens, shrieking, her magically augmented voice reverberating around their chamber and literally filling it with noise. To her right, crouching over Jasmyn’s bed, was a cloaked figure, it’s white, maggoty head next to Jasmyn’s.
The scream snaps Jasmyn to consciousness, blocking out all other sound. She feels the lips of the creature brushing her ear, and something prickling her neck, and with no thought grabs a book from her bedside table and whacks the thing. The pale, pinched, mud-streaked face fell away as the creature, shocked by these events, staggered into the center of the room. Both girls reached for their wands as it spun away towards the window. Juliet’s spell lit the figure’s cloak on fire as it dove, while Jasmyn’s wingarmium leviosa wrenched it upwards. Alas, she too just struck the cloak, ripping it away as the figure fell out the window. Juliet quickly extinguished the cloak while Jasmyn stared down at her attacker as the thing – wrinkled and club-footed, clung to the wall like a vine and made its escape into the darkness below Ravenclaw tower.
The two stare at the physical evidence – the muddy footprints and the cloak that, judging from its size and the ripped and muddy hem, was worn by someone little larger than Juliet. What was this thing? And would anyone believe them about the attack? Daisy certainly, and Castor, but for the others, it’s hard to say. Theo made a thorough search of their room, including taking a sample of the mud, and the professors acted concerned, but there was no harm done, little evidence and already rumors flying around of them losing control of their monster, or making the whole thing up to elicit sympathy. The students, it seems are against them. And of Rowan, at the Hogwarts train station, there is just one flash of white hair as the half dryad fled their presence. In the trip home at the end of break, the quartet of first years are, sadly, alone.