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Post by BLUDWORTH BATHORY on Nov 13, 2023 23:42:43 GMT -5
Dead Men Tell No Tales
tag: open | Date: november 2024
March 18, 1709
“Bludworth, please,” pleaded the tearful eyes of one Cecelia Malfoy. “You know I didn't mean it...My words were not my own...I didn't mean to...to...”
“Call me a Mudblood,” Bludworth bitterly finished with his arms crossed. “Ye called me a Mudblood in front o' all yer purist friends.”
The two sixteen-year-old Slytherins were alone in the common room during the night, one emotionally distraught while the other stood stoic with penetrating eyes. For nearly two school terms, Bludworth, a Muggle-born, had been in a clandestine relationship with the platinum-haired pureblood. Bludworth admitted himself to be quite the selfish individual in many a scenario, but he had sacrificed a good amount of the pride towards his blood status by being Cecelia's dirty secret.
Now, however, the thread that their forbidden love dangled from had finally snapped. It was now more than apparent that Cecelia cared far more for keeping up the image of her family's prejudice than ever publicly acknowledge him as anything close to a suitor.
Selena Gaunt, ever vocal about her prejudice, had been teasing Bludworth in the courtyard earlier with her acolytes, called him a Mudblood. While he had been more than used to her taunts, he was shocked when Cecelia contributed her own nasty remark towards him...the boy she had claimed to love while they were alone.
“It think it be high time fer ye to find a nice pure-blooded snake to be yer suitor,” Bludworth said tonelessly. “Don't end our courtship, Bludworth,” Cecelia croaked, grabbing his hand. “I promise it will never happen again – I'm sorry.”
Bludworth pulled his hand away.“No, Cecelia...I need a love tha' doesn't need to be hidden. As o' today, ye be jus' another one o' the Slytherins tha' see me as somethin' shameful. Ye think I'll keep this act up fer the rest o' me life? No. Ye 'ave broken me heart too many times fer me to keep givin' it back to ye. Farewell.”
“Bludworth,” Cecelia gasped as he turned his back on her and retreated to the boys' quarters.
In his wake, Cecelia's wrenching sobs fluttered in his hearing. Had Cecelia been able to see Bludworth's face, she'd have witnessed his own heartbroken tear rolling down his cheek...
Present Day November
At one of the tables in the Great Hall, the ghost now sat across from the person listening to his recounting of one of his memories from his youth. He stared with a dejected smile at the bewitched the ceiling as the memory concluded.
“Tha' be the firs' time I ever felt love's cruel lash,” he sighed. “Quite the story, eh?”
Post by ORLA FLYNN on Dec 13, 2023 20:36:16 GMT -5
"The first time? Was there more than one?" She couldn't decide if it was romantic or pathetic. She was certain of one thing, that Cecelia woman was an idiot. His being a muggleborn hadn't been a surprise. Why'd she date him if she couldn't possibly marry him? Was he really that handsome? The girl had been willing to ruin her reputation amongst her bigoted peers just to dance with him. Were they even allowed to hold hands back then without getting married? Probably not. That girl must have been blinded by the ghost's ridiculously rugged charm to risk the shame of being caught with him. Orla looked at the ghost's face. She could sort of see it. He was attractive for a ghost. Certainly better looking than that Gryffindor ghost with his head hanging off.
Still, if she brought a man like him home, her grandfather would probably threaten to disown her - not because of his blood, but because she didn't know how much money was in his Gringott's account. Her marriage would be one of convenience. Her family didn't have time for her to let her emotions get the better of her.
Post by BLUDWORTH BATHORY on Dec 16, 2023 19:17:58 GMT -5
“O' course it wasn't the sole time, me red-haired siren,” Bludworth replied airily to the Slytherin girl. “Life's relentless tides come wit many lovers tha' cause ye tears.”
And the ghost wasn't exaggerating. Bludworth may have been known around Hogwarts as one of the more cutthroat of earthbound spirits, but each of his lovers had let him down and left him emotionally crestfallen at the conclusions of their passionate trysts. But he wouldn't disclose details that were too intimate with a young girl; he may have been a pirate ghost, but even he held some sense of decency as an adult.
“Ironically, the cruel hands o' fate would snatch away the woman who I made me wife and bore me children: Lucy,” he said with a bittersweet smile. “Lost her to childbirth, I did. She was a beautiful half-blood witch...”
The ghost sighed wistfully, wondering if Lucy would be singing to their sons and descendants passed on the other side.
“Anyways, it be quite a kindness o' ye to lend me yer ear, Flynn,” Bludworth said veraciously. “Went to school wit yer ancestors – bunch o' snooty biscuit-eaters they were! Rarely considered anyone nah o' thar blood status worthy o' speakin' to. No offense meant, lass. How be the family, these days?”
Many lovers causing tears? Orla snorted. It was unladylike and would have horrified her mother, but sweet Circe that might have been the stupidest thing she had ever heard. “I’m not going to give anyone enough power to make me cry, especially not some boy.” It was gross, and it was not allowed in her family. Her lovesick peers could do that for her. She’d seen enough of them crying over some childish crush to make her want to run in the opposite direction.
“I’m sorry about your wife.” Hearing about his wife, she felt sorry for him. Was that the reason he’d ended up as a ghost? Listening to him talk, he seemed like the sort of person who would spend eternity as a ghost for the woman he loved. She could never do that. Never being able to move on or forget sounded like more of a punishment than anything else.
Orla laughed at his description of her family. He wasn’t far off. Her parents were well educated and knew blood purity was nonsense, but her uncles and cousins? Just listening to them talk was enough to kill some brain cells. “Probably not what you want to hear, but most of them are still dumb as rocks.” Her uncles were idiots, and their mistakes were ruining her life. Being spoiled because she was the only girl in ages had been fun until it wasn’t. Once she’d discovered that her uncles were too stupid to inherit everything, she knew she would never be allowed to do anything she wanted. “You could haunt them if you ever get bored, or is that a Hogwarts ghost taboo?” She'd never really spoken to the ghost before and didn't know if he was bound to Hogwarts or allowed to leave whenever he wanted.
Post by BLUDWORTH BATHORY on Jan 24, 2024 20:09:29 GMT -5
Bludworth couldn't help but feel a swell of pride towards the girl's words. “Spoken as a true Slytherin! Nice to see the girls o' this century 'ave sturdier backbones than most o' the sensitive lasses o' me time. Ye 'ave spunk, lass.”
Of course his Lucy had been the exception to the snooty little brats who had constantly kept their noses up in the air towards men who hadn't lived up to their standards.
At her condolence towards his late wife, the ghost smiled gently. “Oh, don't be, lass. Me Lucy 'n I 'ave a love tha' will forever bridge the two worlds tha' separate us.”
And this assurance wasn't just to brush off any pity the young girl may have felt for him; their descendants attended Hogwarts and served as fragments of their love.
When she offered him the opportunity the haunt her “dumb as rocks” relatives, he guffawed so loudly that he made a couple of Slytherins seated nearby jump. “We ghosts be fully capable o' leavin' our usual haunts, but it be quite a rarity fer me to be offered a chance to do a travel-scare.
“Ye be Cillian's daughter, correct? I'd imagine he mustn't be one o' the fools ye want me to target? He was always one o' the more decent Slytherins in his Hogwarts years, he was.”
Post by ORLA FLYNN on Mar 27, 2024 11:38:34 GMT -5
Orla smiled at the ghost. Being called a true Slytherin was a compliment. It made her feel nice. Not a lot of compliments could. She was no stranger to them. Most of the time they came from old men trying to get in her grandfather’s good books – not exactly appealing. Hearing something she liked from someone without anything to gain was just sort of... worth more.
Plus, she was starting to enjoy his company. The rugged ghost was a bit more romantic than she was used to, but it was sort of sweet. Orla didn’t have the luxury of allowing romance in her life, but a tiny part of her wondered what it felt like. Having someone love her enough to love her even after death was a flattering thought. Did love have to be equal on both sides? She didn’t think so. What she was sure of, was that she could never love someone the same way Bludworth Bathory loved his Lucy.
Relationships were never balanced anyway. Power, money, and influence, all tipped the scale in one direction or another. Maybe love was part of that too. Thinking about it, she was sure that her father loved her mother far more than she loved him. The normally calm man was a menace when someone went after her mum. A ghost popping into their house wouldn’t make him all that happy.
“Definitely not. My dad’s got a brain. It’s his brothers. They never did learn anything while here and now they whine every chance they get.” Losing out on the family company to a girl had hurt their pride. It made them dangerous. “Some people just never grow up... though I'm sure you've seen it first hand.” Watching children grow into adults and become employed as professors must have been strange. She couldn't imagine her professors as children. Bludworth didn't have to imagine it. He'd likely seen it for himself.
