The Courtyard Compromise
Who: Hannah Abbott, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Ginny Weasley, Megan Jones, Theodore Nott, Linus Vaisey, Zacharias Smith, Aurora Sinistra and Sloane Wickham.
With NPCs: Dumbledore's Army, Minerva MacGonagall, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, Horace Slughorn, Argus Filch.
What: A compromise is proposed. "The Courtyard Compromise."
Where: The Courtyard.
When: Before Breakfast; November 13th, 1997.
Status: Open to Students, etc.
It was a rich gold viscous color, especially when held up to the light- not quite as beautiful as Felix Felicis, perhaps. Hannah, however, was fairly certain that its color was meant to induce calm. Odd that the potion was gold then. Hannah had always thought of blue as the most subdued and calming of colors. Or maybe a nice foresty green. It didn't really matter, she supposed. With shaking hands, she unstoppered the vial. The familiar ozonous scent wafted against the girls nose, followed by the calming smell of jasmine and lavender. Her lips, however, sudden dry smacked as she recalled the strange taste before it was even placed to her lips. It was sort of like drinking flowers, she supposed.
"Next time Abbott, write a fricking memo," the girl cursed herself and then at once tilted the vial to her lips. Her eyes squinted in anticipation of the musky flavor. The liquid rolled down her throat like an oddly warm ooze. The butterflies that had been lurching in her stomach since 2am seemed to stop flitting about. The image of the little bastards drowning in a sea of golden viscosity gave Hannah a much needed pep-up. Why she had volunteered to write the letters last night had gone from unusual to a panic-striking worry in the hours that had followed. With letters to all of the Prefects and the Heads of Houses penned by her hand, she was now fairly sure that she would be called upon to deliver the opening remarks. All she really wanted to do was turn it over to Neville... or Ernie... or Anthony... or Merlin even Filch if he believed in this compromise. Public speaking was not and never would be her forte.
But the calming draught worked itself through her system and she felt her fears diminish. It was an all too-familiar sensation that while blissful, it reminded Hannah that she could occasionally be quite the headcase. Her mind seemed incapable of dwelling on that in the longterm however, a tribute to Pomfrey's brewing skills. Instead her brain turned entirely forward to the business at hand. She folded her arms, leaned against the fountain and waited for people to arrive, her eyes occasionally turning to those already present.
With NPCs: Dumbledore's Army, Minerva MacGonagall, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, Horace Slughorn, Argus Filch.
What: A compromise is proposed. "The Courtyard Compromise."
Where: The Courtyard.
When: Before Breakfast; November 13th, 1997.
Status: Open to Students, etc.
It was a rich gold viscous color, especially when held up to the light- not quite as beautiful as Felix Felicis, perhaps. Hannah, however, was fairly certain that its color was meant to induce calm. Odd that the potion was gold then. Hannah had always thought of blue as the most subdued and calming of colors. Or maybe a nice foresty green. It didn't really matter, she supposed. With shaking hands, she unstoppered the vial. The familiar ozonous scent wafted against the girls nose, followed by the calming smell of jasmine and lavender. Her lips, however, sudden dry smacked as she recalled the strange taste before it was even placed to her lips. It was sort of like drinking flowers, she supposed.
"Next time Abbott, write a fricking memo," the girl cursed herself and then at once tilted the vial to her lips. Her eyes squinted in anticipation of the musky flavor. The liquid rolled down her throat like an oddly warm ooze. The butterflies that had been lurching in her stomach since 2am seemed to stop flitting about. The image of the little bastards drowning in a sea of golden viscosity gave Hannah a much needed pep-up. Why she had volunteered to write the letters last night had gone from unusual to a panic-striking worry in the hours that had followed. With letters to all of the Prefects and the Heads of Houses penned by her hand, she was now fairly sure that she would be called upon to deliver the opening remarks. All she really wanted to do was turn it over to Neville... or Ernie... or Anthony... or Merlin even Filch if he believed in this compromise. Public speaking was not and never would be her forte.
But the calming draught worked itself through her system and she felt her fears diminish. It was an all too-familiar sensation that while blissful, it reminded Hannah that she could occasionally be quite the headcase. Her mind seemed incapable of dwelling on that in the longterm however, a tribute to Pomfrey's brewing skills. Instead her brain turned entirely forward to the business at hand. She folded her arms, leaned against the fountain and waited for people to arrive, her eyes occasionally turning to those already present.