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!
He didn’t want them to be. That was their charm, their hidden defense against those who wanted to sneak down into what most knew to be the snake pit; The lake water and dripping petrichor detored any gryffindors from sneaking down, should the stairs and gates not done their job. He imagined that the constant stream of ill and conniving intentions ought to have ran them off with or without barricades - Regardless of how brave they claimed to be, casting how many duels or matches they’d won, few wanted to endure the sight of the slytherin common room should they not have been put into that house to begin with. Intruders were treated with the same vicarious attitudes as anything else that wound up in their home by chance. Traps, spells, curses and hexes galore. The den wasn’t welcoming - and, fittingly so, neither were her residents.
On that note, one such resident was far too busy experimenting with notes to pay heed to what was going on around him. The world could have been collapsing in on itself, Hogwarts falling into rubble and disarray, and he? Well, the world could have gone to Hell, but Medraut should have always had a moment to breathe between eruptions. Just long enough to remark about how unfortunate his downfall was going to be, or - alternatively - just long enough to think that whatever happened next was likely going to hurt far worse than a fall from his broom. He was taken into each stroke of his quill against the parchment: There was no distraction that could pull him out of his work at the moment, the sound of ink scratching distinct symbols and lettering shifting into a full-blown symphony to anyone who cared to listen to the slytherin’s unspoken plights.
Fifteen minutes passed without objection. When the letter was believed be done by the wayward Snyder, an ever-present rat scurried up the wizard’s side, sitting neatly on his shoulder as though to ask what would happen next. What could they do next, anyhow? Seeing as how classes had faded to the back of his mind for the day, the best course of action would be one that entertained him - and that, more importantly, delivered him the attention he so eagerly craved. Some men yearned for blood, others companionship. Medraut? He wanted attention, eyes locked on his figure, mouths agape for any feat he dared to pull when no one was looking. He wanted hearts captured in golden thread. He wanted it all.
He kicked his feet up onto the chair, wand balanced between his upper lip and his nose, hands snatching the rat from his shoulder and holding it between cupped hands. Mischief hung in both of their eyes. Of course, spreading a rumor or two wasn’t above him… But neither was messing with the occasional passerby. Naturally, he would refrain from ruining the reputation of fellow slytherins; Given his inherent nature as one of them, and one of the older ones at that, he had a duty to uphold as their good influence! Their sign that, regardless of what someone said, they had all the reason in the world to be precisely what the world asked of them. Stereotypes asked for a manipulative snake, and they had gotten one.
“Could always come up with a new rumor,” It was a musing disguised as a yawn, Medraut standing from his perch and lightly kicking the heel of his foot against the dungeon’s floor as though to knock off dust that had begun to hang there. The letter was tucked away within the folds of his clothing, his rat climbing up to nest in the pocket of his shirt, and a plan was forming with generous amounts of ire. “Only question is if I can find someone else to help…” Help was used leniently; He fed them quotes, insults, everything he could, and awaited to see what the outcome would be. In simpler terms, they would plant the seeds, and he would tend to the garden.
Malfoy.
A grin. Serpentine and cruel as his eyes set upon the nearby figure; His hands clapped together, wand sheathed with careful tendencies. Just to be safe, per usual, just to be safe. With a rat in his pocket and trickery in mind, Medraut would approach the second year - and rightfully clap Malfoy on the shoulder, flashing a smile that could have easily charmed a sword from a knight’s hand.
“Malfoy! Say, do you have a minute?”
In truth, he didn’t know the second year’s first name. He knew the family name - another pureblood, someone without filth staining their biology - but that was far as it went. What better way to make a new puppet friend out of someone than to cause a bit of mayhem together, though?
And while you are sitting indoors waiting for the storm to pass I will be outside dancing in the rain
❧
Time came and went, it was both frustrating and peaceful. The slight ticking sound of a clock having their own rhythm. It had it's own beat, tick tock every single time and repeat. The beat was simple and known to every soul because a beat like this was heard by every single person in the world. No matter how poor or rich everyone knew the ticks and tocks of the clock.
It was an actual clock that Scorpius had been staring at for quite some time. Truth be told he didn't even know how long he had been staring at the clock. The clock was ticking and tocking loudly to the young boy's ears as he waited for his owl to return from delivering a note to his dear mother.
If anything Scorpius was a family kid, he loved his parents equally and strongly for all they do for him and have done for him. He was loyal to them as he expected them to be loyal to him in their own way. Scorpius tried to honor the name but he honored himself as well and he was not like any other kid.
His blood status meant nothing to him. Scorpius had been curious about it for sure, he had studied his blood hoping for a result that would explain why some people considered themselves better than another, but he couldn't find such reason. He couldn't really find anything that signified why he was supposed to be better than someone else.
Scorpius snapped out of his thoughts when the sound of a crackling fire came from his bed. The boy was seated on the floor, staring at the clock, but moved slowly from his seated position to check on the noise. There was note with slightly burned edges on his bed. The answer from his mother.
With a sigh he got up on his feet, used his hands to adjust his uniform to the perfectly neat and well representable state, his hand went for the note and slipped it into his pocket before heading out of his dorm. Scorpius thought about maybe picking up something to eat from the kitchens before visiting his mother.
Scorpius was not aware that anyone would want his attention purely because he hasn't spoken to any of the people he was friends with in his own house. Suzie wasn't here, she would have made her presence well known if she was and his mother wouldn't be in the common room but yet the touch of hands on his shoulders, the little amount of pressure drilling through his skin and bones made him jump up ever so slightly.
It was easily noticed by the person who touched his shoulders that way and the boy quickly turned to face the one who did so. Please do not let this be a girl, was all that ran through his mind but his bright blue eyes met a male figure, definitely older than him and his name had slipped Scorpius's mind at that time.
"Me?" his voice had a hint of fear but his posture was still strong and not as nervous as he felt on the inside. The boy rose his eyebrow a little bit and cocked his head curiously. "What could I possibly help you with?" the curiosity had taken over his other senses, Scorpius was after all a young boy and he didn't have many friends.
"If this is about homework, I will not ask my mother to do you any favors. That is quite a horrible approach to the subject she teaches." his eyes were a bit stern.
"Not to mention very obvious, why would a second year care about higher level charms he surely wouldn't be able to perform anyway?" Scorpius then realized it might not be about the subject, maybe the boy approached him for his own attention and talents.
He would be brutally frank with the uninformed observer: His family, for one reason or another, had never kept in good relations - or intentions - with the other. His father often complained about their hair of all thing, pinpointing their bright colors as a trait that, in his eyes, was far from pureblood material. They weren’t meant to catch eyes, his father so frequently argued, but lead those eyes to the brighter future ahead. That was to say, they should have emphasized fashion over follicles, knowing that the world had a tendency of caring more for someone in six figure dresses than someone in a six figure scholarship. Perhaps that was the vainest idea his family had outside of their germaphobic tendencies where contact with others were concerned, or perhaps it was merely one of the many that had managed to stick out to him as time went by. Regardless of what the cause or reasoning behind it was - that, Medraut knew, he would never know - it existed, and it flocked to the front of his mind once he realized that the other pureblood was more concerned with what Medraut intended to do over what he would do in response.
Could he think for himself? That was a question that deserved to be asked in addition to his quiet and internal quandary as to why the other bothered to have such bright hair when darker colors were far more in season. Just a matter of dying his hair, really. For all he knew, and for all Hogwarts may have cared, the younger Malfoy would have been a real piece of work with a little bit of darker tones around his hair and eyes - But he wasn’t one to judge. No, not him. Not at all. Him? Judge? No, not in the slightest. He was but a charitable Slytherin offering his internal two cents, the thoughts lingering around his mind never once daring to leave through parted lips. He would be nice. Or, well, nice through omission, anyhow.
Still. He would give Malfoy points for not shrinking away at the sudden contact; In contrast to what someone would have expected, Medraut’s nature was that of a charismatic actor. Someone who could charm the sword from a Gryffindor’s hand without issue, his wit only matched by his malevolent kindness. It was a mess of things, really, that often caused others to pull away from him as quickly as he had approached them. The largest factor among them would have had to be the bit of frost to his eyes, as though he had been born frozen on the inside and thawed on the outside. Calculations stole warmth from him on a daily basis, resulting in his demeanor reading as anything but benevolent, should someone have had the impulse to dig beneath his armor and into the fragile shell inside of it.
Granted, that was not something he liked to dwell on.
Not at all, not at all.
His grip on Malfoy’s shoulder tightened just a bit. Noticeable, but in the same manner that a kitten stretching its claws for the first time was acknowledged; It certainly didn’t hurt, but Medraut found himself attempting to make an unsaid point that - if he wanted to - giving a bruise or two wouldn’t have been beyond him. Either that, or he was acting out the role of someone who had been rather devoid of contact as of lately. Truthfully, either persona worked for the time being, and a mixture of the two would likely be precisely what he wanted - and needed, on that note. Having someone blatantly manipulating someone else wasn’t the best way to make friends, and giving off the impression of that unwanted puppeteer was the surest way to lose potential connections. In short? He didn’t want to be a dumbass. It was all a long, and likely melodramatic, way of saying that Medraut - for all his flaws and inconsistencies - didn’t want to be viewed as a dumbass.
“I was just wondering if you could help me out with something that’s not class related,” His free hand raised in a gesture of solo surrender, as though he had no desire to dare and try and bend the other to an unsaid will. “I just want to look out for you, really.” His lips pursed into an earnest pout, unsurity lingering around his shoulders. “I was wondering if you’ve heard anything bad lately, y’know? Rumors and such… cause I’ve heard things lately, and I wanna make sure you’re not gettin’ affected by any of that, mate.” Emphasis paired with dastardly charm…
And while you are sitting indoors waiting for the storm to pass I will be outside dancing in the rain
❧
People who knew Scorpius knew just as well his slight issues with society. Unlike his father's existing and never ending legacy of bullying, misjudging and bad behavior. Draco Malfoy was famous for many things, He was one of the youngest though not the actual youngest seeker in Hogwarts history, he was obsessed with Harry Potter and god knew why because even Scorpius didn't fully understand.
Draco was one of the poster boys when it came to bad decisions and yet managing to turn their lives around. But was Scorpius a similar poster boy? Was he meant for endless mistakes just like him? He couldn't believe that. He couldn't believe that he was meant to become exactly like his father even though his mother admired her father more than anything else, he also admired his father but did not want to become him.
Medraut was a strange person. Scorpius didn't judge but if he were in his father's shoes he'd be intimidated by Medraut, maybe even have a deep seethed jealousy that he would express in a way of rude comments, insults and maybe even try to get Medraut in trouble with the professors and try to get rid of him to protect his own domain. But like Scorpius mentally stated before, he wasn't his father.
Medraut's hand that was still firmly holding onto Scorpius's frail shoulder made the boy frown a bit, especially when the grip tightened to the point where it slightly did hurt. What was he up to and why did he have to involve Scorpius? Scorpius wasn't one to get in trouble and he slightly wished Suzie was here but that was weak of him, wanting a girl to be here to protect him.
"Help you how exactly?" Scorpius asked curiously, his sharp blue eyes looking up at the older Slytherin boy. He was kind of terrifying but also interesting? Scorpius wasn't sure how or what but he just rolled with it, the easiest way to deal in his opinion. The blonde boy waited for Medraut to speak more, his blue eyes still looking intensely at the other boy.
"Look out for me?" What was that supposed to mean? Did he try to be an older brother to him? Like a person to protect him because he was a little late with that. The boy was confused about the whole situation and suspicious about the intentions of this other male. Scorpius was about to speak up, tell him to at least let go of his shoulder but then the boy spoke again.
"Rumors? Like gossip?" Okay Scorpius could see some of the confusion with him being a Malfoy and slightly feminine but he was not one for gossip and neither did he hear much because people often didn't talk to him. "Oh I ehm.." he tried to think, tried to piece together what he could tell Medraut because he seemed concerned in a way?
"I heard some muggles are into a thing called Game of Thrones? They seem very unhappy though.." he figured it was something royal? "Not sure what it is about.." he added and frowned. "I heard Dallas Reid is a werewolf and that is why he doesn't come to school any longer but I just pity him." he shrugged and eyed the hand.
"Mind letting go of that? It is quite uncomfortable." he said with a small sigh. Scorpius ran a hand through his full thick white locks and frowned.
There were times when, admittedly, he questioned the general intelligence of fellow Hogwarts students. In the eyes of someone who had solemn gone out of his way to delve into their deep and likely tragic backstories, they were idiots and dunces; Slytherin and Ravenclaw had it the best, knowing that they were smart and using that to their unsung advantage, but the other houses? The other students? Oh, Medraut pitied them more than anything else in the world. The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors of the world had no clue once so ever about the realities of what they were entering upon graduation, only going about their lives for the sake of false friends and fake prophecies. They were as naive as they were stupid, naturally.
Slytherins were meant to be their direct opposite. Across the board, they were generally viewed as the evil step sisters to the prestine and kind lions. It begged the question of when the rest of the world would realize that Gryffindors shared the same intelligence as drunk baboons, although such a comparison would have been too cruel to the baboons to make in public. At least monkey’s had some level control, but them? Oh, he longed for the day when one would impulsively light a fuse while doused in gasoline. Perhaps that could have given them character development in the form of death.
It’d at least be merciful.
Dallas Reid. The name stuck out to him. Unfamiliar, but most with a name that screamed ‘I’m from across the pond and ten years in the past’ tended to be. Of all names, he did have to ponder why someone would name their child after some state in some city in some other country. London, Boston, Dallas, New York - Oh, it all hurt his head to think about, the sheer levels of muggle stupidity starting up a migraine. He’d bite his tongue and save the comments regarding the name for when he was in private, though; He could manage to cause a bit of trouble here and there, surely he could, and he could look good while doing it. Setting up a friendship in place of a parasitic bond - The concept was entirely foreign to him, friends presenting themselves only as facets to turn and twist until they broke. None could blame him for that fact: Any familiar with the Snyder family should have known of their kind and pleasant exterior but, more importantly, how they shredded through relationships as unsatisfied felines. They were social vampires, and they were never ones to be sated with only a few bits of emotional reliance in the hands of others.
They wanted more.
He wanted more.
More connections, more attention, more mortal folly to pick apart between his nails and toss back in the face of whoever thought handing their imperfections to him was a good idea.
He was, after all, merely a concerned older Slytherin trying to look out for the younger breed. That was what they did, to his knowledge; They protected their own by killing their own before anyone else could get the chance to do so. He was being a good citizen, of course! The Snyder family’s most renowned trait was their manipulativeness altruism, and he was no different!
He pried his hand from Scorpius’s shoulder, once more flashing that smile, tugging on his gloves with his free hands. Lies swarmed the back of his mind, yet stories had taken precedent, as they so frequently did. “Frankly, I’ve heard some pretty bad things lately. Heard some Gryffindors are even planning a little prank on some of us that are… smaller than others.” The word was emphasized, a quick glance given to Scorpius’s height compared to Medraut’s own. Of course, the threat of a prank was completely null and void, as there was no plan at all in existence, but it made for a good story. At least, good enough to get his point across.
