[ to the average curse-goer, the hogwarts curse was by no means traumatic, but that's not the case for the crew of the starship voyager. for those who once had neural interfaces implanted at the base of their skulls that directly connected their neocortexes to the ship's computer, making them believe they were actually part of the holodeck scenarios they were forced to play out, it is. it's an unwelcome reminder of that time, of a point in their journey when their sense of control, along with their sense of self, was lost to a group of hirogen who treated them like foxes to the hunt. they were toys to be played with, broken, repaired, and sent back out to be broken again.

which is why when the video feed clicks on, the city's treated to an almost avengers-style scene: all four officers, clad in uniform from the ranks pinned to their collars to the polished boots on their feet, sitting around a table in their apartment, eating pizza in utter silence. they're a sea of red and gold; harry's arm's still in a cast and captain janeway's feet are shamelessly propped up on the only unoccupied chair. there's a pile of phasers at the center of the table, the group quietly distrustful of their restored reality as if they're calmly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

it's chakotay who breaks the silence. ]

It could be worse. At least no one was expecting a Nazi's child this time.

[ the table lurches as b'elanna kicks him hard in the shins for that crack, the commander grunting in pain as the video disconnects. ]



[ ooc: responses might come from any of them! ]

[This broadcast starts up in Mae's room, early morning.]

Wow, what a weekend, right? It's a shame we couldn't keep the uniforms, or the wands, or even the quills. The quills were nice. Maybe we could make some - Ginny, are there any recipes for the sugary quills? Because I think we could -

[And now, the scene changes, as she excitedly leaves her room, out in search of the best and most wonderful flatmate ever.] - make a whole girls' night of it. Right, Clary?

[Silence. She checks the clock: well over Clary's usual waking hour. And come to think of it...does she remember her being in the magic school at all? Unless...] ...Clary? [smaller voice, the smile on her face disappearing. Distracted by a more important matter, she leaves the device - forgets it's recording - on the living room table. Viewers, if they continue watching, can see Mae moving from one room of the apartment to the other, every Clary growing increasingly smaller, until all the rooms have been covered. And then, without bothering with her device, she grabs a coat and leaves, slamming the door behind her, leaving the video on to a view of an empty apartment, until finally, the battery runs out.]

text; public; one hour later;

Clary Fray is gone, to those who knew her.

[ooc; Not all curses end on a bright note :c.]

[[ooc; Rather than try to backdate him, here's what I will do! Handwave.

Over the weekend Tallendi went around being a snot and bragging about his pure blood connections: aka his engagement to a known-for-nasty-family the Reynolds. (Black magic, cannibalism, monster hoarding, etc.) His fiancee Bethlehem Reynolds would have graduated recently. Tallendi's probably like a 4th year Slytherin.

Generally he was just... acting like Draco Malfoy, really. Feel free to have been insulted and to have retaliated in any way, feel free to have known Bethle in the school. Feel free. He's going to apologize now.]]

---

...look. I know I'm usually a dick, but I'm sorry for being that kind of dick. It doesn't fucking matter who your parents are, or if you're...

[ A pause. A shudder. ]

I'm not proud of... I'm not proud of them. They're fucking awful. I'm not like them. I'm nothing like them.

[ There's a plaintive note in his voice and really very sad look in his eyes that suggests his young age and wounded heart. He swallows roughly, and to crown this whole thing off, he adds cattily, ]

I'm sick of all this witch shit. Give me a break already....

[ Below you will find a series of inflammatory notes. The names are left blank in this representation, as they will display the name of someone you love. Your momma, indeed. ]

_________ gives it up to half-breeds
_________'s patronus is a mutating box of festering bug parts
_________ rinses with a malodorous mouthful of fossilized camel hairs

[ And on and on. ]

[ The other note is only slightly less awful, ]

Skip the match. Dungeon pit. Bring victims. All in good fun.
C

[ ACTION ]

[ Carla has arranged a little party in the castle dungeons. And by party I mean hazing younger students. She's promised them something along the lines of popularity and connections in exchange for their total cooperation.

A series of tasks have been lined up. Some simply painful, some simply humiliating, and some simply both. ]

[ ACTION ]

[ She'll be around, feel free to make your own scenario. ]



[[ooc; replies from anuglybloom, Slytherin 6th year.]]

[The last time Julie's device was on, she was in the Hall of the Missing and then had vanished after seeing her own portrait appear. For her, she's been home for a couple weeks. It's only been one in the City and when the device does start recording, it's in her room at the suite.

Julie's not looking at the camera directly, even if she was the one to turn the thing on. She looks worn out. Defeated. There are bruises and scratches and she looks like she needs the worlds hottest, longest shower. And alcohol.

And when she finally does look at the device, it's her eyes that stand out the most. They're no longer blue. They're a sun gold, brilliant in their own way and very full of exhaustion.]

Good news. My world is finally coming back to life. Guess I didn't miss it. In fact, I think I may be one of the ones to have started the change.

[No details as to how it happened and she won't be divulging anything to anyone any time soon. Maybe R. He has a hand in it, too.]

Anyway. I'm...back. I'm tired. I won't be showing up at work for a few days. At either place, which I apologize for. I just need quiet. Bringing the world back to life is a violent, costly ordeal and... R, I swear to God you better still be here.

[She just shuts the feed off here and can be bothered at home though she won't be saying much.]

Wow! What a weekend! I think my head is still spinning.

I kind of liked being a wizard. I could live like that everyday, I think. Magic and stuff. It's a lot of fun.

But now I've got leftovers. What am I even supposed to do with all these weird symbols on these little pieces of paper? They're all over the place. I've got stacks of the stupid things.

Anybody want one? I guess it's a souvenir from this weekend. You can keep it if you want. If you don't, I guess I'll use them for confetti or something.

I don't think Larry liked being my familiar for the weekend. But Larry doesn't like anything.

Anyway--come get a symbol if you want one.

[ooc: He knows what those symbols are. He knows fully well. Please consider this my apology for being unable to do jack shit this weekend despite my best efforts. Ugh. But Fl(agg)etcher was a visiting teacher from the Salem, Massachusetts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, specializing in sigil magic (among other things). These sigils are not wholly benign. Taking one, keeping one, may allow him access. If nothing else, it'll allow him to gather magic power from your character and your character's surroundings--it's an ad hoc collection net (since he hasn't had time to set up a more complicated network...yet. So help a poor(?) wizard out and unintentionally charge his sigils for him, okay?]