your final year ;
Harry Potter was born in the year 1980, but that's not where we want to be. No, let's go back further. Here is where we want to be. It's March of the year 1978, dolls. The infamous Marauders are in their seventh & final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry; the first war against the Dark Lord is about to begin. The Hogwarts students are joined by some guests this year. What role will you play & where will you end up?
It's all in your hands now.
0180 • gryffindor
0165 • ravenclaw
0020 • hufflepuff
0235 • slytherin
0050 • beauxbatons
0010 • durmstrang
roll theskin coded by dean.
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a set in darkness
, open to 7th yr ravenclaws; join anytime
Member No.: 67
Joined: 29-December 07
Though my soul may set in darkness,
it will rise in perfect light.
I have loved the stars too fondly
to be fearful of the night.
It was a crisp, cold night, and a dry, brisk wind seemed to shell every broken patch of skin, while it derided all unblemished skin left exposed. It was a foolish night to be out, even for Astronomy, but then, Bertram considered, Divination was a foolish subject to attend at any time of the day, and some students had been taking it bi-weekly for years.
Bertram seemed to be the seventh year Ravenclaw first in attendance tonight, which was odd, as there was always one that had already bounded down with their telescope, ready to bat faux naivety with just the right dosage of knowledge at Professor Sinistra as if she could harness their minds and yet still reign them in for all her spoils. He carefully set up his telescope slightly to the right; it was not directly in front of where the professor would soon place herself, but it was where the clearest view of the stars were.
Once he took the cap off of his telescope, he placed it safely into his bookbag, as tonight the wind ensured that nowhere outside, even by his foot (where he usually placed it), was sacred from the harsh breezes that blasted through all empty space. He drew his cloak closer upon himself, but the half-circle shape of the tower left every inch of his body, save for his back, exposed to the cruel wind. His hair whipped around, beating the edge of his face that made the terse punch of the wind seem a far welcomer bout of pain.
He knew it was groundless, but Thursdays always seemed to have the worst weather, and unfortunately, that was when all seventh years climbed the north tower for Astronomy.
Several minutes had passed since he had first arrived, and still no sign of anyone. Finally, Professor Sinistra climbed the staircase, giving a wane smile that seemed to be reserved not for Bertram, but in case an invisible person lurked behind him that deserved such a welcome greeting far more than him. Still, she managed a swift nod, and he a hello. Bertram flipped through the sheets of his homework one last time, but everything was in tact. He had circled Mars correctly on that third worksheet, correct? Yes, of course he had. How silly of him to even question.
Another gust of wind blew his way, and he gave a half-gasp as the paper turned in such a way that suggested it would soon be ripped from his hand, but he held on to it tightly. To him this was further proof that he should present it to Professor Sinistra as quickly as possible, so if it did blow away, at least he wouldn’t be to blame. With a quick jot of his name, he handed it to Professor Sinistra, who in turn handed him another worksheet, which rolled immediately in an outright refusal championed by the weather. She then gestured towards his telescope, telling him he could begin working, to which he gave a very audible sigh. Busywork seemed to be her first love.
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