Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on May 14, 2024 9:23:00 GMT -5
Vampires, most notable for their sharp fangs, nocturnal activity and blood consumption have faced many adversities in obtaining the same rights as wizard-folk... Julian skimmed over the tome before him as he leaned back in one of the leather armchairs by the common-room mantle, the glow of the green lanterns strewn throughout the underground space casting the boy in an eerie light. It was late, much past midnight, though Julian had not retired to sleep, taking advantage of the silence to write Professor Da Costa's required twelve inches of parchment on vampires.
He scratched out some notes on his unfurled parchment, his hand beginning to ache. He had been at the essay for over an hour now, though it was not the only homework on his list to complete that night. He expected to be continuing until well into the morning - when sleepy-eyed students would begin to trickle down from the dormitories to head to breakfast. He, however, would likely skip the meal and catch an hour or so of sleep before classes resumed - far more comfortable sleeping without the presence of his mud-blood dormmates.
Dormmates. Julian hesitated, his quill pausing in the middle of his current sentence: McEvoy. Hilfiger had mentioned the mudblood being petrified, which explained his current absence from the dormitory (though this was a much welcomed change). The news of students being petrified had not exactly been kept secret, though the happening had thrown many of the Hogwarts denizens into fearful disbelief. Julian himself had inwardly questioned the security of the castle and the competence of its Headmistress - though once he was made aware of who had been petrified his interest waned... Another mudblood down did not come as particularly unfavourable news, thus he only now wondered if more occurrences were to come.
Julian blinked, attempting to bring himself out of his sudden stupor, shaking his head a little. Focus. His eyes trailed back to his book, and he turned the page: ...they have fought tirelessly, despite their malignant reputation, to achieve... He did not get very far before he realised he had begun to read the same sentence thrice-over. He was bored. Julian snapped the book shut, tossing it onto the coffee table before him with a sigh, standing to stretch his cramped limbs, forcing blood flow through his body in an effort to shake off the lethargy.
ANNABELLE BECKETT
He scratched out some notes on his unfurled parchment, his hand beginning to ache. He had been at the essay for over an hour now, though it was not the only homework on his list to complete that night. He expected to be continuing until well into the morning - when sleepy-eyed students would begin to trickle down from the dormitories to head to breakfast. He, however, would likely skip the meal and catch an hour or so of sleep before classes resumed - far more comfortable sleeping without the presence of his mud-blood dormmates.
Dormmates. Julian hesitated, his quill pausing in the middle of his current sentence: McEvoy. Hilfiger had mentioned the mudblood being petrified, which explained his current absence from the dormitory (though this was a much welcomed change). The news of students being petrified had not exactly been kept secret, though the happening had thrown many of the Hogwarts denizens into fearful disbelief. Julian himself had inwardly questioned the security of the castle and the competence of its Headmistress - though once he was made aware of who had been petrified his interest waned... Another mudblood down did not come as particularly unfavourable news, thus he only now wondered if more occurrences were to come.
Julian blinked, attempting to bring himself out of his sudden stupor, shaking his head a little. Focus. His eyes trailed back to his book, and he turned the page: ...they have fought tirelessly, despite their malignant reputation, to achieve... He did not get very far before he realised he had begun to read the same sentence thrice-over. He was bored. Julian snapped the book shut, tossing it onto the coffee table before him with a sigh, standing to stretch his cramped limbs, forcing blood flow through his body in an effort to shake off the lethargy.
ANNABELLE BECKETT
