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!
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Aug 24, 2019 16:39:27 GMT
Sitting at the kitchen table, Lyuba fiddled with her wand, spinning it around on the table while she waited for Papa to show up. Thankfully, he had done something to get her older sisters out of the apartment, though she supposed it wasn't too difficult--he just needed to come up with places they both wanted to go. Nadya had been itching to go somewhere anyway, it seemed, but Lyuba wasn't going to ask questions when she actually wanted her to be out. She'd find out about whatever it was later. They were close enough for that.
But as Lyuba waited, biting her lip, she wasn't sure if she regretted asking her father for so much help. It was embarrassing, even if she knew that he wasn't going to tell anyone else. (Even if everyone else in the school probably already knew how bad she was in Transfiguration after seeing her in the class for nearly five years.) Sometimes she didn't know why she bothered. If she wasn't going to be able to continue to N.E.W.T. level anyway, if she wasn't ever going to be able to get a job that needed it, what was the point? The thought made her frown and nearly toss the wand off the table, catching it just in time. At least her reflexes seemed alright today, which made her a little more hopeful about the practice session. Setting down her wand, she started to fidget with the sleeves of her pink sweater, glancing at the kitchen door, waiting for it to open.
NB!:ALL DIALOGUE HAPPENS IN RUSSIAN, BUT WRITTEN IN ENGLISH FOR READER'S CONVENIENCE.
"I'll see you later, my children," he said, waving at the girls walking down the stairwell, "and remember, condensed milk without caramel, Vera!" In response both of the girls laughed and the sound echoed through the apartment building. Before closing the door, Ivan quickly made a cross with his fingers and muttered "Be safe."
His fingers glided over the several locks he had installed on the door. There were the two original keyholes, an old iron padlock he installed some 10 years ago after a drunk muggle had followed his eldest daughter home berating her for speaking Russian, and two new ones he'd installed just a week before. These two were deadbolts that had the Anti-Alohomora charm applied to them, lest someone work related decides to track Ivan down. It was hard being the Head of Department of Magical Creatures ever since the werewolf situation began, and it didn't get any easier, especially after the events of the Winter Ball.
Ivan knew there was an ever-growing pile of Howlers and dung bombs gathering on his work desk, but he'd demanded a vacation during the winter break. He had even threatened to resign -- a threat the Ministry couldn't afford at the moment -- if he wasn't let go. He needed to be at home, with his daughters, even if the earth and sky were switching places.
And right now his youngest needed him. Lyubov. Love. The one he had to bottle feed from her very first weeks after her mother dissappeared into thin air. His pride...And his sorrow, for the girl often had a lot of problems with her studies. She wasn't lazy, he knew that, and yet magic seemed to come to her through great anguish. When it came to pride, Lyubov took after her mother, so when she had asked him for help, Ivan knew that things were serious.
He fixed his old, blue knitted sweater and padded into the kitchen, his oversized slippers hitting against the wooden floor and his heels. His daughter was already there, waiting, wand in hand, ready to practice.
He offered her a warm smile and gently patted her on the head before pulling back two chairs by the kitchen table and sitting down.
"Morning, my love," he greeted her and reached for the fresh issue of the Daily Prophet that someone had left on the wooden table. "Hope you slept well. Your sisters won't be home for several hours, so is there anything you would like to talk about?"
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Sept 4, 2019 18:23:54 GMT
Lyuba bit at her lip, looking down at the chair she had just vacated, which Papa had pulled out for her to sit in again. She'd been expecting lessons, not--reading the morning paper or whatever this was about. If they had to spend time drinking tea or coffee or whatever, her sisters would definitely get back before she got any help with her Transfiguration. She'd already eaten breakfast! But she sat down anyway, wand still clutched in her hand as she rested it on the table. "I did sleep okay. I slept longer than Vera and Nadya, or at least I already heard them awake when I woke up." For some reason, Lyuba always slept in the latest of all of them if she didn't have an alarm to wake her up--something that was great on vacations, but made her feel like she was sort of lazy, a feeling she hated.
"Did you have something to talk about besides magic?" she asked, confused. Suddenly she felt as if something bad might be going on, if it was more important to have a talk than to have the lesson on vanishing they'd discussed. She glanced at the newspaper, scanning the headlines to see if there was something on the page which had Papa's attention. She wasn't sure which it might be, but she also couldn't see everything on the newspaper. Or maybe it was her own mistake. Was there something she was supposed to know about that she'd forgotten? "Did I miss something important? I'm really sorry if I did." The apology was sincere, even if she didn't know what she was apologizing for.
She turned the wand over and over in her hand, spinning it nervously. "I brought the camera back with me, so we can use that for the lesson, if you want?" Although she didn't think she saw it in the kitchen--had she left it in her room? At least that wasn't too far! But, she thought, she really needed to know how to perform the spell without the camera. Maybe she could get a better idea from watching Papa than from watching the professor.
NB!:ALL DIALOGUE HAPPENS IN RUSSIAN, BUT WRITTEN IN ENGLISH FOR READER'S CONVENIENCE.
Ivan's eyes skimmed over the pages of the newspaper, but he wasn't actually reading the letters. Instead, he closely listened to what his younger daughter had to say, time and time again tearing his eyes away from the page to look at her. Lyuba seemed restless, or, at least more restless than usual, which Ivan could understand. After all, she wanted lessons in private, and many kids her age didn't like to admit that they couldn't do something.
His theory was confirmed when his daughter pressed for information. Ivan folded the newspaper and took her free hand into his, squeezing tightly.
"There is nothing to apologize for, Lyuba," he said, his voice calm and steady, "You haven't missed anything. I just wanted to know how you were doing. Your ol' father doesn't get to see you as often as he'd like, so he often wonders what you've got on your mind." He let go of her hands and chuckled. "Any boys on your mind? I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Tell me, is there anything besides Transfiguration that gives your trouble?"
"Yes, we can use the camera, but only if you don't manage to do anything without it. First, talk to me. And don't worry about your sisters coming back too soon."
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Sept 19, 2019 3:20:47 GMT
"Uh, Charms. And Potions. Those two are also the hardest. History of Magic is hard too, but at least I don't have to actually do magic in that one." The problem with Transfiguration in particular was that it involved being really precise, and Lyuba wasn't a precise person. She'd never been. Even though she tried to be, she could never seem to concentrate quite well enough. That was the same problem she had in Potions, too--if she messed up a single step, then she'd ruin the whole thing. And then the professor would give her that look like she was the dumbest person in the world, and even though Papa said she wasn't, it was hard to believe when professors were like that.
Miserably, she crossed her arms on the table and put her chin down on them. "So, it's like that. It's the same thing as last year, only the stuff is even harder, and so are the exams. And these are the important ones!" She'd been close to failing the fourth year, which would have been completely humiliating. It was bad enough that all the professors knew her grades, since they were the ones who gave them out, but if all her classmates knew? Lyuba thought she would probably die right then and there.
"Were there O.W.L.s in Russia, too? Did you do alright on them? 'Cause you got to the Ministry and all, so you did good, right?" She hoped she'd get enough of them to actually have an interesting job.
NB!:ALL DIALOGUE HAPPENS IN RUSSIAN, BUT WRITTEN IN ENGLISH FOR READER'S CONVENIENCE.
"Aha..." the man drawled, pondering over her words. Indeed, those were the most important exams in the eyes of the Ministry, as far as he knew. Last year had been... Quite bad too, but she'd somehow pulled together at the last moment and passed her exams, but he had to admit to himself that he didn't think such a miracle would happen again.
Both Vera and Nadezhda had never had such issues. Sure, they weren't brilliant academics and there had been a fair share of less than great grades over the years, but those could always be written down on his girls slacking off a little bit or really not liking the subject, which he understood very well. Yet Lyuba was an entirely different case.
As far as he remembered her, his little daughter had always been on the move, a thousand things on her mind. He couldn't put her to sleep as a child, and her accidental magic was quite catastrophic as times. One time she'd set the curtains on fire, and Ivan didn't want to remember the nightmares he'd had for months after that.
Something was off, and he wasn't entirely sure what. There were family stories about one of his grandmother's having a penchant for fire in many shapes and forms, though he'd never cared to ask his parents why she'd been that way. And surely, pyromania had nothing to do with learning difficulties?
Perhaps it had something to do with her being part-veela? But then why were his other daughters fine? Ivan felt stumped.
"Oh, yeah, we had exams and I did okay, though, if I'm completely honest with you, I absolutely wiped out on my Potions exam." he said with a chuckle. It wasn't the full truth. Yes, he hadn't done as well as he could have, but it wasn't terrible. But Lyuba didn't need to know that. A little white lie wouldn't hurt her, right?
"Tell me, is there anyone else at school that you've seen has similar problems?"
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Sept 30, 2019 0:12:13 GMT
"Uh--well, I don't think anyone else does, but there's a lot of people at Hogwarts. Let me think." If anyone else had such a hard time with magic, they clearly didn't do it in such a, well, flashy way as always seemed to happen to her. Certainly nobody else could set a feather on fire quite as quickly as she'd managed to do in one of her very first Charms lessons.
But it wasn't just that. It was the forgetting things, and the losing things, and the way her brain sometimes seemed to miss big chunks of lessons the second she tried to daydream even once. She liked the Remembrall Papa had gotten her for when she went to school, but even with that, sometimes she couldn't remember what she'd forgotten! One day she could be assigned an essay, and the next completely forget it had ever existed. Once she'd tried to make herself a schedule, but then she'd misplaced that, so it ended up useless anyway. And if all her roommates left before her in the morning? It was a toss of a coin whether she'd make it to class on time because she'd somehow forget what time it was.
"I don't know. Some people don't really do well in class, but it could be just because they don't care," she said, thinking of Greyson Avery. "One of my classmates gets really restless too, but he also yells at professors a lot. I don't do that." She frowned, reaching for her wand and starting to spin it around idly again. "Maybe I'm just dumb." Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill out.
NB!:ALL DIALOGUE HAPPENS IN RUSSIAN, BUT WRITTEN IN ENGLISH FOR READER'S CONVENIENCE.
He watched as his daughter looked away, trying to find an answer to Ivan's question. His blue eyes traced over the features of Lyuba's face - his blue eyes, the same eyebrow curve, but the rest of her reminded him of her mother. Even the thin veil of dreams that always had followed her mother, it was present here too. His little girl was growing up, and as much it brought him joy, there was a tinge of pain to it. Both about the passage of time, and the difficulties age brought his love.
Finally she spoke again. No one quite as bad. As I had suspected. He didn't know what to answer just yet, but when Lyuba called herself dumb, he reached out over the table with both of his hands and clasped them around those of his daughter, her wand throwing out a few sparks.
"Don't say that about yourself, you're not dumb. You're..." he stopped mid sentence. He hadn't thought this far. His lips were pressed together as he looked to the side, trying to find the answer.
One part of him wanted to blame the veela blood in her. Surely there was more basis than just magical racism to society's dislike of intermingling with non-humans? He didn't know if there were any studies, or did wizards even do medical trials like that? He'd have to contact St. Mungos to ask.
The other part of him returned back to his maternal grandmother - the Arsonist. As someone intrinsically connected to the muggle world, Ivan knew that illnesses of the mind didn't spare any man, wizard or muggle. But in all of his years in the wizarding world, he hadn't heard a peep about mental illnesses, which put him in a tough spot - he couldn't just send Lyuba to a regular muggle specialist. They'd lock her up in a mental ward and treat her for delusions after a few minutes of conversation.
"You're just..." he tried to say something again, but the words just wouldn't come out. 'You're just sick.' I can't say that without any explanation ready.
"I don't know what it is just yet, but I know one thing - you aren't dumb, Lyuba. Don't ever say that about yourself. Come now, practice time. Let us figure this out together."
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Oct 2, 2019 17:36:30 GMT
Lyuba's restless hands only stilled when Papa put his over hers, forcing them to lay flat. Her head was still on the table, short blonde hair spilling onto the surface. She'd said the words that always seemed to dog her thoughts whenever she was in class, the idea that maybe she just couldn't do it. That her mind was never going to let her remember everything she needed to be able to do--for exams and for life. It wouldn't be such a problem if she could just have more time, she thought--if they didn't expect her to know everything on one particular day, because sometimes it seemed like the more she stressed, the less she remembered.
"How do you know I'm not, if you don't know what it is?" Lyuba murmured, her voice quiet in a way it almost never was, but she lifted her head from the table, looking Papa in the eyes. She'd asked for a lesson, she wasn't going to give up until she got it. "Why do you think it works with the camera, but not with just me?" she asked. "The magic--it's supposed to be in me, not in that." She gestured to where the camera was sitting. The device had been a lot of fun when she was just taking pictures, but she couldn't rely on it to do magic. "But it doesn't work that way. Am I missing something?"
NB!:ALL DIALOGUE HAPPENS IN RUSSIAN, BUT WRITTEN IN ENGLISH FOR READER'S CONVENIENCE.
A frown tugged on his lips as he looked at his daughter. Her head laying down on the table, face hidden behind a curtain of light hair. She was his little flame, and it was faltering and eating itself up. He couldn't let that happen.
"Trust me." he answered to her quiet question, before offering her an encouraging smile. Moping around wouldn't help anyone, and they had to seize the opportunity that the absence of her sisters had given them.
When Lyuba asked him why did the camera help her, Ivan started rubbing his chin, considering his answer. "Well, I think, as I told you in our letters, that it might help you visualize better. It can be rather hard to imagine the absence of something, especially if you have no reference. For example, I cannot imagine myself bald!" he said, running his hand through his hair and tugging on it a bit, a playful smile on his face.
"Though, I don't think I'd like that very much, so lets not vanish that."
