Post by Sylph on Feb 8, 2006 12:02:30 GMT -5
It was morning. Just. Being a Saturday, the students - and frequently, teachers - of Firefox University had their much-appreciated right to have a lie-in, something which Sylph in her lazy I-could-sleep-for-my-country manner had made full use of. As a result, it was now approaching a quarter to twelve, and it was time for breakfast. As it was not a school day, Sylph was not clad in the school robes which she wore during the week, but some of her far more comfortable muggle gear - she never had liked wearing robes; they reminded her too much of dresses. Today she wore an old but much loved pair of beige coloured combat style trousers and a long sleeved deep green shirt - a shade that made her peridot eyes stand out even more than they usually did. Those sparkling glittering orbs of hers, which quite often looked as if they weren't even natural, today seemed to leap out of her pale skinned face, quite a disturbing look for anyone who didn't know her, especially when combined with that violently purple hair - down to her waist now - her rather alarming visual trademark.
With a jaunty swagger, one that oozed confidence and purpose, Sylph entered the Feasting Hall, clompy brown boots echoing through the cavernous room as she headed for the Gryffindor table. There were a few late-comers, like herself, still picking half-heartedly at the foodstuffs before them, but for the most part the hall was empty. Taking her seat, Sylph leant heavily on her elbow, one perfect dark brow raised, and she sighed slightly. The reason for her sudden discontent was sat - or rather, perched - on the Gryffindor tablecloth.
"Dylan," she grumbled at the enormous osprey which was now helping himself to some leftover orange juice. "Do you have to?" The black and white raptor tilted his head in her direction at the sound of her voice, one large bright yellow eye viewing her with what could have been disdain and irritation, and opened his beak bad-temperedly. It was clear that he had been waiting for his owner for some considerable time, and was not happy about having done so. Sylph tossed him a couple of crusts of bread which she had hurriedly ripped off from the cold stuff in the toast rack, but he seemed little appeased.
"Come on Dylan," she said, reaching out to stroke his plumed head, only to have him jerk it out of her reach. "Oh, fine then," she frowned at him, going back to her own breakfast. "Well why are you even here then?" Dylan hesitated a moment, but eventually held out his taloned foot, revealing something tied to it. It was the national wizarding newspaper for Spain, La Trompeta Diaria, and what Sylph could see of the front page was not good. Quickly she undid the cords binding it to her osprey's scaly leg and shook it open, absent-mindedly chucking some more toast his way. The paper may have been in Spanish, but Sylph would not have moved countries had she not had a grasp of the language. Besides, one of her aunts on her father's side lived in Gibraltar, and in her trips back to England had always tired to teach Sylph and her younger brother some of the language; either way Sylph had little trouble translating the article.
DARK MARK SIGHTED AND DOZENS DEAD AS SCORPIUS RETURNS
At two O'Clock yesterday the escaped convict and highly dangerous dark wizard, known as Count Scorpius, appeared without warning in the busy Triangle Tunnel, casting his own brand of the dark mark - based on the one used by you-know-who - before attacking and killing several members of the Triangle Tunnel security staff, including the Captain Josephus and second-in-command Lieutenant Ferdinand. Scorpius was joined by his followers, the mysterious La Sociedad de Sombras, and hundreds of civilians were killed or wounded within minutes.
Aurors have been hunting the dark wizard and his followers since his escape from Azkaban some years ago without success...[/center]
Sylph paused in her reading, taking a gulp of apple juice and wishing it was something stronger. She had never heard of this Scorpius wizard, but it didn't take the horrific picture of the triangle carnage or the monochrome mug shot photograph of him at the bottom of the article to give her a bad feeling. His face - far from the usual madness of Azkaban prisoners - was calm and collected, and yet full of murderous hatred; this was a man who would kill you without qualm. And even without that, there was something of a nagging 'coincidence' about the whole thing. Firefox University had only just opened, with Talon warning the whole school about some curse of sorts... and already a dark wizard who had been underground for years had resurfaced, scant miles from them, with talk of Sombras... that was shadows, wasn't it?
Sylph threw down her paper, not bothering to read the rest of the article, and leant back at the table, fingers locked comfortably behind her head and an intensely quizzical look on her face, her flashing eyes narrowed in deep thought. Part of her wanted to go and talk to her headmaster about these events, to find out what exactly what was going on, but something restrained her. For a moment she glanced back down at the paper again, but didn't touch it. The main photo portrayed the chaos caused by Scorpius and his followers, and even as Sylph watched one of the dark figures pointed their wand at a terrified looking shopkeeper, knocking him flat on his back. He was dead, murdered by the killing curse. Sylph could almost smell the burning flesh, even though she knew that Avada Kedavra left no mark whatsoever. The scene was horrible, and Sylph was glad she had a strong stomach for this kind of thing.
In the next instant, she was on her feet, reaching in her pockets for some parchment and a quill. Quickly she scribbled a note to her parents in a hurried scrawling hand and fastened it to Dylan's leg.
"It'll take you a while, but feel free to take breaks," she smiled at him, but Dylan simply snapped his beak irritably and turned his back. His expansive wings spread out, and he took flight, soaring majestically out of the hall. Sylph watched him go worriedly, and sat back down.
No point doing things on an empty stomach.
With a jaunty swagger, one that oozed confidence and purpose, Sylph entered the Feasting Hall, clompy brown boots echoing through the cavernous room as she headed for the Gryffindor table. There were a few late-comers, like herself, still picking half-heartedly at the foodstuffs before them, but for the most part the hall was empty. Taking her seat, Sylph leant heavily on her elbow, one perfect dark brow raised, and she sighed slightly. The reason for her sudden discontent was sat - or rather, perched - on the Gryffindor tablecloth.
"Dylan," she grumbled at the enormous osprey which was now helping himself to some leftover orange juice. "Do you have to?" The black and white raptor tilted his head in her direction at the sound of her voice, one large bright yellow eye viewing her with what could have been disdain and irritation, and opened his beak bad-temperedly. It was clear that he had been waiting for his owner for some considerable time, and was not happy about having done so. Sylph tossed him a couple of crusts of bread which she had hurriedly ripped off from the cold stuff in the toast rack, but he seemed little appeased.
"Come on Dylan," she said, reaching out to stroke his plumed head, only to have him jerk it out of her reach. "Oh, fine then," she frowned at him, going back to her own breakfast. "Well why are you even here then?" Dylan hesitated a moment, but eventually held out his taloned foot, revealing something tied to it. It was the national wizarding newspaper for Spain, La Trompeta Diaria, and what Sylph could see of the front page was not good. Quickly she undid the cords binding it to her osprey's scaly leg and shook it open, absent-mindedly chucking some more toast his way. The paper may have been in Spanish, but Sylph would not have moved countries had she not had a grasp of the language. Besides, one of her aunts on her father's side lived in Gibraltar, and in her trips back to England had always tired to teach Sylph and her younger brother some of the language; either way Sylph had little trouble translating the article.
MASACRE AT TRIANGLE
DARK MARK SIGHTED AND DOZENS DEAD AS SCORPIUS RETURNS
At two O'Clock yesterday the escaped convict and highly dangerous dark wizard, known as Count Scorpius, appeared without warning in the busy Triangle Tunnel, casting his own brand of the dark mark - based on the one used by you-know-who - before attacking and killing several members of the Triangle Tunnel security staff, including the Captain Josephus and second-in-command Lieutenant Ferdinand. Scorpius was joined by his followers, the mysterious La Sociedad de Sombras, and hundreds of civilians were killed or wounded within minutes.
Aurors have been hunting the dark wizard and his followers since his escape from Azkaban some years ago without success...[/center]
Sylph paused in her reading, taking a gulp of apple juice and wishing it was something stronger. She had never heard of this Scorpius wizard, but it didn't take the horrific picture of the triangle carnage or the monochrome mug shot photograph of him at the bottom of the article to give her a bad feeling. His face - far from the usual madness of Azkaban prisoners - was calm and collected, and yet full of murderous hatred; this was a man who would kill you without qualm. And even without that, there was something of a nagging 'coincidence' about the whole thing. Firefox University had only just opened, with Talon warning the whole school about some curse of sorts... and already a dark wizard who had been underground for years had resurfaced, scant miles from them, with talk of Sombras... that was shadows, wasn't it?
Sylph threw down her paper, not bothering to read the rest of the article, and leant back at the table, fingers locked comfortably behind her head and an intensely quizzical look on her face, her flashing eyes narrowed in deep thought. Part of her wanted to go and talk to her headmaster about these events, to find out what exactly what was going on, but something restrained her. For a moment she glanced back down at the paper again, but didn't touch it. The main photo portrayed the chaos caused by Scorpius and his followers, and even as Sylph watched one of the dark figures pointed their wand at a terrified looking shopkeeper, knocking him flat on his back. He was dead, murdered by the killing curse. Sylph could almost smell the burning flesh, even though she knew that Avada Kedavra left no mark whatsoever. The scene was horrible, and Sylph was glad she had a strong stomach for this kind of thing.
In the next instant, she was on her feet, reaching in her pockets for some parchment and a quill. Quickly she scribbled a note to her parents in a hurried scrawling hand and fastened it to Dylan's leg.
"It'll take you a while, but feel free to take breaks," she smiled at him, but Dylan simply snapped his beak irritably and turned his back. His expansive wings spread out, and he took flight, soaring majestically out of the hall. Sylph watched him go worriedly, and sat back down.
No point doing things on an empty stomach.