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Post by Curse Kameren on Nov 12, 2010 23:11:12 GMT -5
Dad still hasn't come home from Mungo's, Max Kameren wandered down the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a worried expression on the young boy's face, I wonder what's keeping him... His father had left in the middle of the night a few days prior, telling Max only that he was leaving because 'someone was hurt'. The young boy didn't understand, and would have asked more questions, if only his father had come home. Last he had heard, one of the teachers had informed him that he was at St. Mungo's. Max could only hope it wasn't for as long as last time.
The youngest Kameren tread lightly down the stairs towards the ground floor, escaping the classes currently in session. He stopped, though; footsteps directly behind him stopped a split second after he did. He took a step. They took a step. And another. Max took off at a run, not bothering to look behind him. He knew who was after him.
Two rough hands caught Max on the shoulders and stopped him in his tracks, holding him in place as a third boy, much larger than the young Kameren and clad in the red of Gryffindor house, stopped in front of him. He pointed his wand directly in Max's face. The young boy closed his eyes, unable to open them again as they disappeared as the boy took the form of a teapot.
"That should teach him about messing with the students," The three boys laughed, turning away from the child as they dropped him. He clanged loudly on the ground, rolling into a corner on his side, waiting for someone to notice him and help.
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Nov 15, 2010 0:21:52 GMT -5
A hand with ragged, chewed nails picked up the teapot. The man examined the fuzzy pot, tickling the long rabbit ears that emerged from the top. “Quite a pickle you’re in, my friend.” The man frowned, his warm blue eye puzzled as he stared at the teapot. “How long have you been like this? Ah, no matter. I suspect it is two long for you.” He looked around, before starting off down the hall. “Right.” They eventually came to a tall window with a deep sill. Warm afternoon light flooded the window. The man set the teapot down, a good foot back from the edge. “Excellent for you, I was quite good at Transfiguration, still am.” The man said briskly, raising his wand. He gave a flick, then pointed it at the teapot, almost jabbed the point forward in the air. Purple light streamed out of the wand toward the teapot. [ ]
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Post by Curse Kameren on Nov 15, 2010 19:13:27 GMT -5
The purple light shot at the teapot, making it shudder back and forth violently before shooting out of the spout back towards its caster. Max was blind and terrified, his teapot shape shaking with his fear. He didn't know who was casting spells at him, or whether they were meant for better or worse. His father wasn't in the castle. There was no one here to protect him. So who could he trust?
The teapot just sat on the ledge, the purple light dissolving away around him.
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Nov 23, 2010 1:43:14 GMT -5
The teapot started to rattle, rocking back and forth violently before purple light shot back out of the spout and straight at the minister. He sidestepped it with more agility then one would normally expect from a wizard his age. Then again, he didn’t particularly fancy becoming a teakettle himself.
Jack tapped his wand on the stone sill, contemplatively watching the teapot. It would take a bit of thought, undoing unknown transfigurations was tricky. “Well friend, that didn’t work.” He bit a nail as he thought, a nasty habit he was acquiring of late. “Would help if I knew what would.” He patted the teapot gently, it was trembling.
“Are you scared? Suppose I can’t help it, unless I were to unTransfigure you.” The teapot was probably only a student, poor thing. Jack had a soft spot for children, he had five of his own, after all.
“Finite leporidae pottus.” The minister said firmly, casting another spell that called on his knowledge of Latin roots. Perhaps an improvised spell would work.
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