Mudblood Jamboree
[I'm getting this party started now because I'll be going home to the Land Without Internet this weekend.]
Mr. Dilip Mathur of Hounslow, West London, was absolutely crazy, at least according to his beautiful wife. It was one of the reasons she loved him. To throw a New Year's party and name it "Mudblood Jamboree" in a world where people lived in fear of finding the Dark Mark over their homes was crazy and yet wonderfully silly, a small, brave and stupid act that was meant to lighten hearts and celebrate
Everything was all set up. There were copious amounts of drinks and snacks (everything from chips to crisps to biscuits to homemade samosas). The home was enchanted so that the rooms were a bit more expanded than they usually were, and spells put up so as to hopefully keep the noise down, not attract the attention of the Muggle neighbors, and fend off law enforcement officials of both the Muggle and magical kinds.
Invites had gone out to pretty much everyone Dilip Mathur knew, or at least knew to be awesome. He hadn't asked for RSVPs, so there was really no knowing who (or what) would show up, really. He just hoped enough people would be there to enjoy his wife's wonderful home cooking.
Kittu's younger sister Nisha had been sent to bed before the festivities were to begin, but she sat at the top of the stairs to the second story of the house, wanting to watch what would transpire downstairs. She was eight -- she figured she was plenty old enough to stay up past midnight and celebrate the new year, but her mother had other ideas.
Kittu, though, was more than allowed to participate. He'd actually been rather helpful about helping set up decorations, make snacks, and otherwise do party preparations. His father's excitement was contagious, and Kittu was as excited as his dad about the impending good times.
In each invitation, Kittu's father had written about how this party was definitely on par with the hoity-toity social events that the uppercrust of wizarding society held, so be sure to dress like it and all that good stuff. Of course, everyone who knew Dilip Mathur even just barely should have realized that he'd meant that tongue-in-cheek, and that this party, just like every party he'd ever thrown before, would be barely controlled chaos constantly on the cusp of complete bedlam.
But that didn't stop Mr. Dilip Mathur and his lovely wife, Smitha, from "dressing the part" of elite socialites.
Even Kittu considered it a shirt and tie occasion:
Around eight, everything was set up and in place for a night of thorough merrymaking.
[As this is a journal thread, feel free to ignore certain posting rules, as this is supposed to be barely controlled chaos, after all. There is alcohol available, but bear in mind that this party is for adults as well as kiddies, so please keep it appropriate for all ages: grown-ups might get a little out of hand (Mr. Mathur probably will), but I would think that teenagers might exercise a bit more discretion in front of their parents when it comes to drinking. Remember, anyone and everyone Kittu's dad knows and likes would be invited -- it's not limited to Mudbloods, but also blood traitors, halfbloods, Muggleborns, the like. Anyone who wouldn't be invited to a pureblood social party of snootiness is more than welcome here: even Twippy will probably make an appearance! WOO PARTY DOWN.]
Mr. Dilip Mathur of Hounslow, West London, was absolutely crazy, at least according to his beautiful wife. It was one of the reasons she loved him. To throw a New Year's party and name it "Mudblood Jamboree" in a world where people lived in fear of finding the Dark Mark over their homes was crazy and yet wonderfully silly, a small, brave and stupid act that was meant to lighten hearts and celebrate
Everything was all set up. There were copious amounts of drinks and snacks (everything from chips to crisps to biscuits to homemade samosas). The home was enchanted so that the rooms were a bit more expanded than they usually were, and spells put up so as to hopefully keep the noise down, not attract the attention of the Muggle neighbors, and fend off law enforcement officials of both the Muggle and magical kinds.
Invites had gone out to pretty much everyone Dilip Mathur knew, or at least knew to be awesome. He hadn't asked for RSVPs, so there was really no knowing who (or what) would show up, really. He just hoped enough people would be there to enjoy his wife's wonderful home cooking.
Kittu's younger sister Nisha had been sent to bed before the festivities were to begin, but she sat at the top of the stairs to the second story of the house, wanting to watch what would transpire downstairs. She was eight -- she figured she was plenty old enough to stay up past midnight and celebrate the new year, but her mother had other ideas.
Kittu, though, was more than allowed to participate. He'd actually been rather helpful about helping set up decorations, make snacks, and otherwise do party preparations. His father's excitement was contagious, and Kittu was as excited as his dad about the impending good times.
In each invitation, Kittu's father had written about how this party was definitely on par with the hoity-toity social events that the uppercrust of wizarding society held, so be sure to dress like it and all that good stuff. Of course, everyone who knew Dilip Mathur even just barely should have realized that he'd meant that tongue-in-cheek, and that this party, just like every party he'd ever thrown before, would be barely controlled chaos constantly on the cusp of complete bedlam.
But that didn't stop Mr. Dilip Mathur and his lovely wife, Smitha, from "dressing the part" of elite socialites.
Even Kittu considered it a shirt and tie occasion:
Around eight, everything was set up and in place for a night of thorough merrymaking.
[As this is a journal thread, feel free to ignore certain posting rules, as this is supposed to be barely controlled chaos, after all. There is alcohol available, but bear in mind that this party is for adults as well as kiddies, so please keep it appropriate for all ages: grown-ups might get a little out of hand (Mr. Mathur probably will), but I would think that teenagers might exercise a bit more discretion in front of their parents when it comes to drinking. Remember, anyone and everyone Kittu's dad knows and likes would be invited -- it's not limited to Mudbloods, but also blood traitors, halfbloods, Muggleborns, the like. Anyone who wouldn't be invited to a pureblood social party of snootiness is more than welcome here: even Twippy will probably make an appearance! WOO PARTY DOWN.]