With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Jul 30, 2019 18:09:35 GMT
The ball was ruined, the dress was ruined, and though Isobel had managed to avoid being injured, she'd seen enough to shake her to the core. She'd had to help some seventh-years carry Wolfgang, who had been happily dancing with her just minutes before the attack, up to the hospital wing when he was still too dizzy to walk. When they'd arrived, the wing had been so full of students already that they'd barely found a bed for him. And worst of all?
That had been her fault.
After she had been released to her dormitory to clean up, explaining to the hospital matron that the blood wasn't actually hers, she had finally been able to take off the torn dress, putting on her wool pajamas for once, needing a bit of coziness. But even being wrapped in warm fabric didn't help her sleep, and after what had to be only a couple hours of having her eyes closed, she knew it wouldn't be happening. There were too many thoughts spinning through her head: about herself, about Wolfgang, about the attackers. Even though she knew it was before sunrise, she slipped out of bed, putting on her slippers before opening the dormitory door as quietly as possible and padding toward the hospital wing.
It was far before the normal time when visitors would be expected, but Isobel could tell already that despite the hospital wing still being dark, there was plenty of commotion going on. With this many people there, there was no way that the matron could keep it as quiet as she liked. It made it easy for her to pad inside and look for the bed where she'd left Wolfgang the evening before. Unlike some others, he was still asleep, so she grabbed a chair and decided to wait by the side of the bed. Just in case he was angry at her for what she'd done, she needed to come set the record straight--and besides, she did want to make sure he was alright. Although she was sure there had been some healing spells done on his face, there was still a bandage there. She put her head in her chin, studying him while she waited, realizing she had never seen him sleeping before. Asleep, he looked far more innocent and peaceful than he ever did when awake. It was not the usual look for him, but she had to admit it was sort of cute.
As light began to filter in through the windows, the first rays of dawn appearing above the horizon of the school grounds, Isobel saw Wolfgang begin to stir. She sat up straighter, remembering too late that she was in her least attractive pajamas, but maybe in this situation she wouldn't need to worry about such things. "Hey, you. You're finally awake," she murmured, smiling as she saw his eyes finally open.
His fingers danced across the black and white keys of the piano, up and down the scale, the notes twirling in the crisp air. Now his fingers were on her waist and the two of them glided across the snow, her blue dress as vivid as the sky above. And now they were drinking mulled wine, heads thrown back in laughter, and now-
An avalanche, rumbling down the mountain. The flame -- her hair -- gone in an instant. Cold. Suffocating darkness. The claws of an ice giant. A drum, growing louder and more and more violent with every breath. It was tearing out his throat--
Wolfgang's eyes opened slowly, like jammed floodgates during the spring melting. His heart was beating somewhere in his throat, repeating the rhythm of the drums he had heard moments earlier. Instead of vast expanses of blinding snow he was met with the warm orange of torches and candle flames, and the yellow of the morning sun.
He was lying on his back, his gaze turned to the stone ceiling. It wasn't the wooden canopy of his dorm bed.
Why am I not in my room? he wondered as he tried to sit up and make sense of it all. His limbs were stiff, and it took Wolfgang a few tries to prop himself against the headboard.
'Hey, you. You're finally awake.' A soft female voice said somewhere right next to him, and he blinked a few times before turning his head to face the speaker.
Isobel. In...
"Sheep?" he blurted out. Why does it hurt to talk? She was sitting there, in green pajamas with black sheep on them, her chin resting in her hand, hair pulled back in a ponytail that had seen better days.
She was sitting next to his hospital bed. And it hurt to talk.
The events of the Winter Ball rushed over him like a tsunami. They had danced, he had been euphoric, and then everything had went to utter shit. An ice shard had cut his cheek, and then something had torn at his face. And the rest was a mystery.
His face.
He stared right at Isobel as his dark brown eyes went wide and his hands reached for his face. There were bandages tied all across his jaw and it hurt like hell. What could have done this?
"Wolves?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, and his eyes pleading for a negative answer. He didn't want to end up in a cell adjacent to his father, he couldn't, Wolfgang Kallenbach would not be a wolf, what is wrong with my face, who did this, what is going on, how...
The what and the why and the how all merged together to form one short, undignified whine as his head sunk back into the pillow, deeper than ever before.
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 1, 2019 16:11:59 GMT
Sheep? Wolves? Was he talking in strange metaphors now? Isobel blinked at the panicking boy, trying to figure out how to respond. She had been expecting him to wake up more gently, like when she woke up slowly each morning. Perhaps he might be too injured to stretch and curl back into the blankets like she would, but sleep was supposed to be restful, to make one wake up refreshed and calm.
Then again, nothing about the last night had been restful. The attack and its aftermath had kept the whole school in a stir. To have been attacked by their own classmates... They'd probably be expelled now, Isobel thought. They needed to be punished, of course, but that would make their whole lives miserable. It was hard to know if that was the right thing to do. At least the ones who had finished their O.W.L.s would probably be alright--it wasn't like they were werewolves. They could at least know that their only moment of being vicious had been at the ball.
"Ah!" she said out loud, suddenly realizing what the talk of wolves was about. She put a hand over Wolfgang's arm, trying to calm him down a bit. "Do you not remember? Or maybe you didn't see them. It was a few other students who did the attack. No wolves around." Softly, she squeezed, hoping there weren't any hidden bandages over wounds on his arm--better not to cause him any more pain. "Was the matron able to heal your cuts?" she asked, looking at his face. "I think most of it came from exploding things, not from the attackers. They were just trying to stun people."
She left out the part about her own nails, not wanting to bring it up unless he did first. The fact that she'd hurt him made her feel terrible, even if she knew that she couldn't have done anything about it. In the darkness, she could see nothing, so she hadn't known who she'd hit before the Aurors had been able to clear the room of the darkness powder. But wasn't it still her fault for being startled? She didn't know. She only hoped it hadn't ruined the feelings Wolfgang had admitted before the attack went down.
For a few moments Isobel was at a loss for words, and with every passing second the sense of dread in his chest spread its nauseating web wider and wider. What happened, why are you not looking at me like that, what are you not-
The pressure of her hand on his arm cut through his panicked thoughts in an instant. There had been no wolves. He wasn't a werewolf now. Whoever was up there, Merlin, God or several, thank you.
He let out a deep sigh and looked at his own hands. There were only a few small scabs on his fingers, and the rest of his body felt alright. He still had all his limbs, which was better than nothing. But his face... His lower jaw had bandages, or perhaps, very large band aids plastered all across it, and so did his cheek. He slowly slid his fingertips over his face, searching for any more wounds.
All the while Isobel's hand was still holding his arm. It was warm, but not just because she was giving off body heat. No, both her words and her actions were filled with care, genuine and unadulterated. It filled him the same warmth as a mug of tea would.
"I don't remember." he gritted through his teeth, his voice quiet and weak. "The ice," he lightly tapped on the bandage on his cheek, "I know about. But...This? Felt like claws." he continued, now tapping his chin.
"If there were no wolves, then whose claws..." his voice trailed off as he tried to recall any details. It was dark, and the only one who had been near him was Isobel, at least as far as he knew. He'd try to grab her to keep her close... It didn't make much sense to him.
"Was there anyone else nearby? When the lights came back on?"
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 4, 2019 3:34:01 GMT
Fainting must really have done a number on him, Isobel thought. The corners of her mouth flipped into a worried frown. "Yes, from the number of bandages, that does look pretty bad," she said, pausing there. It looked far better than it had when they'd carried him here, though, she had to admit. But then there had been blood everywhere... The white bandages were at least clean. Isobel only hoped that when they were taken off, the scars wouldn't be too bad. She didn't want to have to live with the thought that she'd hurt him that badly.
She knew it was herself who had done it, of course, because of the blood that had been underneath her nails, and the fact that nobody else nearby had five bleeding marks on their cheek when the light returned. It was, perhaps, the only time in her life that she'd regretted that the polish she used on her nails made them incredibly difficult to break--perfect for the everyday, when she wanted her nails to look elegant, but now, she realized, rather impractical.
And really, being a witch, she had not thought she'd needed to think about practical nails, when it seemed for her whole life that everything could be solved with a wave of the wand. But at the ball, she hadn't had her wand with her. And that--that was a new problem. She had panicked, she had both frozen and lashed out--she would have been absolutely useless if she was facing the attackers alone.
For a moment, she wished that, like Wolfgang, she didn't remember.
But that was no longer an option. Not unless she wanted her memory modified, and that was far too dangerous. She would learn about what happened from all the talk, anyway. It was better to know.
"It was me, Leo, and Mat who were around," she said, hoping to offer a little more explanation while waiting to see if he would even remember his injuries. "The seventh year Gryffindors? They helped me carry you. Without my wand, I'd have had an impossible time doing that." She gave a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood. "All those Quidditch muscles, you know."
If the bandages alone made it look bad, then Wolfgang didn't want to know how horrendous he had looked right after the lights went on. There must have been blood everywhere, and he was certain that his blue suit will meet its fate in the Common room fireplace as soon as he is released from the hospital wing. A shame, it was a very good outfit.
Leo and Mat... He didn't recall seeing either of the guys near him and Isobel the whole night. Even if he only had had eyes for his date, it was very hard to not notice Matheus Delgado. The Gryffindor always made his presence known with innuendos -- rather crude ones, in Wolfgang's opinion, but then again, they had hooked up once so he wasn't in the position to judge the guy too harshly.
"I'll have to thank them..." he muttered, tracing his jawline. This didn't explain his injuries. Wolfgang closed his eyes and tried to clear the fog that clouded memories of the Ball.
The door opened. The ice shard hit me. I pushed her down, cast Protego, and then the lights went out. So far, so good. Lights, lights...
He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows.
We were at the table. I was having a cookie. There wasn't anyone else near, they were... on the dance floor? And when the lights went out... Something hot on my forehead...Then I reached out and grabbed someone...And then...
There had been no one else around. He could have only grabbed one, single person. Isobel. It can't be.
He opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at the hand on his arm. Her nails didn't look sharp, but people have bitten pieces of other's ears off before, so who was to say that she wasn't strong enough to claw his face apart. But he didn't want to throw around false accusations.
She had gotten him here. She was sitting here, in pajamas rather than a neat outfit, looking like she hadn't shut an eye all night. This couldn't have been on purpose, right?
Slowly, he reached over and grabbed her arm around the wrist, pulling it away from his own. Then, he pulled her closer, putting it next to the bandages on his cheek.
And looked at her. Without words. Right in the eyes.
MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0
1.75m (5'9")| Open relationship with ISOBEL LINWOOD | Bisexual | English
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 5, 2019 4:08:13 GMT
At the graze of the bandages on her fingers, Isobel's face fell, her gray eyes not quite meeting Wolfgang's. He knew. Of course he knew. She had come expecting him to know, and to be angry, but when she'd heard he had forgotten exactly how things had gone... She had hoped. That maybe she had not ruined everything, that there would be no reason for him to take back the words he'd said when they were dancing.
Yes, Isobel Linwood wanted a boy to be in love with her, one specific boy, to be exact, and she'd had to admit it to herself somewhere in the swirling half-sleep she'd been in earlier that night. She liked him, she liked their banter, she liked how Wolfgang asked questions about her art, proving he wasn't just around for how she looked--although she knew that was what attracted him to her in the first place, and she was very happy about that. The dance, however, had proven a few more things to her. Despite the fact that she could not tango--that she knew she had been out of step, despite how hard she had tried to hide it--he hadn't mentioned a thing. In fact, he'd admitted his feelings right after. And that meant--
That meant that he didn't care if she was perfect.
For Isobel, who had spent much of her life trying to fit in with other pureblood families, that was an odd realization. Lots of people cared, even her friends cared. She had been under the impression that Wolfgang cared as well, with his impeccable manners. And then came the dance, and then came him trying to protect her with a Shield Charm, and the fact that he had been hurt while she had not.
And then it was her own panicked reactions that ruined it all.
The apologies she had planned seemed too formal in her head now that she was in front of Wolfgang. Instead, it was all she could do to look him in the eyes again. Grey eyes looked up slowly, meeting his once more. It was an accident, she wanted to exclaim, the truth, but it seemed like the wrong moment.
"I'm very sorry. I panicked, I flung my arm out--" she paused, placing her other hand on the bed right next to his. "Can you--can you forgive me?" It was spoken almost in a whisper.
He watched as her guilt ridden eyes tried to avoid his own gaze, and his stomach sunk. Isobel was the author of the new design of Wolfgang's physiognomy. She should stick to dresses.
One part of him wanted to rant and rave and curse her to eternal damnation for injuring him, but he knew it was unreasonable. As much as he cherished his looks, the girl sitting next to him wasn't the cause. He couldn't blame her for trying to defend herself -- it was dark as the bottom of an old cauldron, and Wolfgang had grabbed her quite forcefully -- anyone with half a brain would have lunged at him. No, those bastards and their mangy, flea infested friends. They are to blame.
He let out a long sigh and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before removing it from his face. Now she was the one looking at him eagerly, waiting for an answer with baited breath just like he had mere 12 hours ago.
"It's not your fault." he said, looking down at the hand he was holding, eyes lingering upon her nails for a few seconds. "It's all on them."
MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0
1.75m (5'9")| Open relationship with ISOBEL LINWOOD | Bisexual | English
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
143 posts
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 5, 2019 18:09:25 GMT
"Thank you," Isobel murmured, finally finding Wolfgang's hand and squeezing it once she had the confirmation that he was more angry at the attackers than her. She felt terrible about it still--it had to hurt, she had seen the injuries, and if she'd hit him on the neck instead of the jaw--she didn't want to think about that. Glancing at her nails, she wondered if perhaps it would be a good idea to cut them shorter. She had always felt like her hands needed to look as perfect as the rest of her, but maybe they could still look perfect with a little less length. It would be easier to draw with them shorter too--she would cut them. That would feel better.
But the same time as Isobel felt that weight lift off her chest, she felt her heart twist again at the reminder of the attackers. What was going to become of them? Why had they done it? Isobel had never done a thing to hurt any of them that she could remember, at least none of the ones she'd caught the faces of. Nor had most of the students, she assumed. The little first years? How could they have inspired any sort of attack?
Isobel was sure the school would deal with them promptly. She trusted the professors on that. Still, she hated what they had done--the injuries they had caused, not to mention how they'd caused her to react. It would leave everyone unsettled for a long time, she felt. At least it would leave her unsettled. Not knowing what to do without a wand--she could not remember the last time she'd been so afraid.
"I'm just--so upset with them," she said miserably. "Why did they punish everyone for whatever chaos they wanted to cause?"
"Because they are selfish, brainless bastards," he muttered in response, leaning back into his pillows. He looked around the hospital wing -- almost all of the beds were occupied by students of all ages, and many of them had one or two people sitting next to them, chatting away or comforting each other. Some of the beds had blinds around them, saving the injured from curious glances.
"Them and their mangy friends," Wolfgang's voice was quiet and tired, yet they were soaked with venom. "This was supposed to be a night of celebration, our night, and yet they made it all about themselves." he coughed and reached towards his nightstand, hoping to find a glass of water there. Alas, nothing.
"If they thought this would help werewolves... Preposterous." Wolfgang wouldn't be surprised, if the Ministry would begin to do background checks on every single student and throw them out if they found any positive connections with werewolves.
He was angry and upset with them. He didn't know who exactly was involved, but word traveled fast through Hogwarts, so he'd find out sooner or later. And if he'd ever see any of them on the street, they'd find themselves in St. Mungos before they could pronounce his last name.
Right now though Wolfgang felt only an overwhelming emptiness. "I tire of talking," he muttered, squeezing Isobel's hand once more and closing his eyes. He'd ask the matron for a dreamless sleep potion later. For once the world would have to wait for him.
MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0
1.75m (5'9")| Open relationship with ISOBEL LINWOOD | Bisexual | English
