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~Gil resists the urge to admire his reflection in the armor again - what if Glenda should walk out right when he was bent over?  He feels awkward enough, a golden Hufflepuff in the dank and damp dungeons.  Whistling a familiar Muggle tune, he leans against the cool wall and waits for her.~

[ooc: Tag Glenda!]

A Trip to Hogsmeade

*Sam knows that she should be studying for her classes. She also knows that she shouldn't miss one of her classes later that afternoon. However, she continues past some of first years, dressed in muggle clothing.

Having a run in with some of the Slytherin team members, hearing their taunts, she needed to get out. On top of that, the letter from her brother made it impossible for her to focus on her lessons. How can she when so much is going on?

So, she decides to skip class and go to Hogsmeade. She knows she shouldn't, but needs to get away, just for awhile. Hopefully, she won't get caught or turned in.

As she hurries down the path, walking so fast she is almost jogging, she sees that she isn't the only student going this way. As she approaches, she calls out*

Hey.
~It is a fine day for a Quidditch match - bright but just a bit overcast, and unseasonably warm.  Spectators walk about with their cloaks over their arms while the teams huddle together in their locker rooms, preparing for the match.  Whoever wins goes on to compete with Hufflepuff for the House Cup!~

[ooc: Tag Davy, Dirk, Sam, Glenda, Regulus, and Barty, and anyone who wants to spectate!  Also, there will be a thread for the Gryffindor lockers, the Slytherin lockers, the match itself, and then one for the spectators, if anyone wants to goof off.  :)]

~My brains on the trackway~

~Putting Dora to bed has never been a problem.
Tonight however, was a different story seeing has Ted thought it a good idea to give her a fair amount of sugar.
He had allowed her to have it and therefore was forced to put her to bed without any assistance from Andromeda. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him, but after such a long day at the office it was becoming more and more clear that he might have bitten off more then he could chew. After a good three hours he finally closed the door behind himself, and made his way downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. His mission so great he didn't even notice Andromeda.~

Hey what can I say I've got my game on

~Today is a marvelously humid day. As such, Gil's hair is at its prime, smooth and clean and yet ever-so-roguishly curly - he has already strategically positioned himself near the girls' loo several times today, basking in the glow of his female schoolmates' sudden blushes and batting eyelashes.

Unfortunately, it is also windy out, and a sudden gust of wind ruffles his perfectly-placed locks of golden hair. He is alone in the corridor, so he ducks aside to fix his tresses in the polished breastplate of a suit of armor. Of course, he can't help himself - he winks at his reflection, then turns to the side and winks again, admiring the sultry effect.~

Work, work, work...


~Rita sits at her desk and writes an owl to a Mr. Barty Crouch, Sr. She isn't terribly excited about interviewing him, but she does need it for a piece. Her handwriting curls across the parchment as Rita admires her own perfect grammar...~

Dear Sir,

My name is RIta Skeeter; I am a junior reporter for the Daily Prophet. I am doing a piece that would require your opinion. Might I schedule an appointment with you to guage your reaction? I would be greatly obliged.

Regards,
Marguerite Anette Skeeter

~Rita called her owl over and wrapped the parchment loosely around it's leg. She sent it off as she reached for a cigarette.~


Dora.


Dora, there you are, my lovely girl.

You're all packed, then?
~ The lift descends through the Ministry with the subtle creaks of metal creating more of a conversation than either of it's occupants. Two Crouches watch the doors as the numbers blink lower and lower. As they pass the floors bustling with life the sounds of so many witches and wizards working make their way tinnily into the lift, but the longer they ride the quieter it becomes. Presently, the doors slide open and Crouch Sr. stares down at his son until he exits in front of him, the better to watch him.

The place he is taking him is listed as a sub-categorical section of the building run by his Department, but there is a reason it is away from the offices and near the courtrooms. Children, it seems, need to be shown the worst to avoid the worst, so with Barty in his sight, Crouch Sr. leads his son toward the Ministry's office of interrogation to teach him a lesson that apparently has yet to hit home, until today.~