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[attr="class","orange"]may 1st

[attr="class","vanilla"]went out with the wind

[attr="class","gummies"]Clio was, unfortunately, very used to people not liking her. She was prickly and rude, a pitcher of stone confidence that was chipped away to reveal a prickled interior. She had her handful, her strong and small bunch, the people who could actually stand her. Clio wasn't sure what she would do without them, not with how much she relied on her friends. They really were her everything. They were the ones that she held tightly, the ones that she knew she could rely on when things were tough. And she did. They understood; they were able to comprehend the words that she said, they knew when she was hurting and when she was furious and when she was feeling wild and free. They helped her when she was down and she did the same. She felt like she was able to do the same, but when she was feeling self-deprecating it only felt like she was making things worse.

She always tried to make things better for Vi. This year especially, she tried to make everything better. She knew, she knew that things had gotten worse. She knew that it happened because of the registration. Clio and Vi had both lost friends, but she knew her friend had it worse. She had lost her mom. She had lost a lot, and she didn't know, she hadn't known... She felt so bad. She felt horrible, because she couldn't do anything. This was outside of her abilities. This was outside of everything she could even do. She couldn't make something better. She couldn't demand that people just... change. That they came back, if they were missing. She couldn't do that. She wished, more than anything, that she had that power. That she could help her friends. "I'm glad Bellamy was okay, in the end." It was such weak words, such weak things to say. She was glad Bell was okay, because... Well, there had been nothing else to do. "It's why they have to make it mandatory. They know we wouldn't show up."

What would have happened if she had punched someone? She smiled at the thought; it would have felt so powerful in the moment. Her fist would have connected with solid flesh. "I would have lost a hand, and then my aunt would have made Flint put it back so that I could still play Quidditch." Too many words. She needed to stop talking-- he didn't want to hear anything she said. "From your mum? Really?" She ought to find Vi. Ask her about it. See if she was okay. "She's alright?"

[attr="class","cherries"]# Arthur Stroud   | # 433 | # SO SORRY THIS IS LATE

[attr="class","credz"]♕fai

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Keeping to himself for almost a year had been anything but helpful to teach him how to interact with people. Sixteen years of his life, he had spent lying on the couch in the common room, trying to get his class mates to lend them their essays so that he could copy them. And if at some point they’d tell him to put at least some effort in his courses, he could always steal Vi’s work. Who cared when she got angry with him. It seemed like this was centuries ago, not a year. A year in which Vi and he had treated each other like glass. The difference wasn’t that he liked her better — he couldn’t love his twin more or less, she was too much a part of himself — it was that he had always taken her for granted and suddenly realised that it might not be so. His mother had disappeared — not in any predictable, adventurous way like being eaten up by a mummy like he had so often dreamt when he was little, but right out of their house in London, just like that. Their home, a place that should be safe. But nothing was safe, and they were left broken and scared. Their father was far away from them, where what had happened to their mum could also happen to him. Only Vi was with him, and he needed to be near her like he had never needed before just to know that she still was there.

But now he didn’t know anymore what to fear. Mum hadn’t disappeared from their house? Or what… didn’t make sense. As it didn’t make sense why this friend of Vi’s was glaring at him. As far as he knew, he had never done anything to her. With how their conversation (conversation used as a very lax term) continued, at least her anger sometimes made sense. Their Headmaster was a barbaric man, who belonged to Azkaban. It seemed like Clio was of the same mind there as he was. “Yeah, I thought he had died or something, I mean we were just… like sent back to the common rooms, so…” He had been pretty far away, but he had been lying on the floor and there had been blood. It had been the obvious conclusion. “It’s sort of pathetic that a grown man must have his confidence boosted by teenagers going to his parties, isn’t it?” he said scathingly, only to look around quickly and cursing himself. The walls had ears, in this castle more than anywhere else.

“Oh, you play Quidditch?” Merlin, he was supposed to know that, wasn’t he (apart from it being a lame reply to talk about mutilation)? Not that he had been to a game since last year other than when Vi played, to show he cared, but knowing who played on which team was pretty basic knowledge in Hogwarts. He hadn’t noticed that he had become this detached from school. “Um, yeah, I think,” he said. “I mean it’s weird… and everything… but Vi… we… it does seem like… it’s Mum. And she’s apparently… fine…” Not that it made any sense. Or should even be possible. Or… whatever.

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[attr="class","orange"]May 1st

[attr="class","vanilla"]went out with the wind

[attr="class","gummies"]Not being able to do anything... It was the worst. Out of a great deal of things that Clio felt she disliked, that had to be at the top. Watching idly as the Headmaster ripped the tongue out of someone she admired, that was horrifying. Being unable to do much more than observe her friends be ripped from classes was even worse. And knowing, deep in her heart, that lives were going to be lost while she just stood by... She wished that she was old enough to do more. She wished she was brave enough to react, but she was still so much more scared than she really wanted to be. She couldn't bring back Vi's mum, she couldn't steal back their friends, she couldn't change what had happened to Bellamy.

And she was furious about all of that.

And things were the same, but now they were forced, awkward. They all had to attend the parties, their lips pressed into fake smiles. They had to agree with the Headmaster, they had to beam at the teachers... She hated it. She hated the way that they all held themselves, how she had to react... How Cam had asked her to be good next year, if only for Rory. "Yeah. It is." It was really all she could say-- all she could react to. "It's all fucking pathetic." She stared at her feet for a moment, before even thinking about something else, something different...

She was bad at talking, but she had never been this bad. This awkward. She felt like she was forcing words out of her mouth, attempting to rearrange them into a speech pattern that made the tiniest bit of sense. And she really wasn't doing too well, was she? "Yeah, I'm the Gryffindor beater." Okay, that was easy enough. She could talk Quidditch for ages, but she was really... It didn't fit. Not now. It would be awkward, to talk about a friend being hurt, and their mum coming back, and then slipping words of Quidditch in. No, it didn't make sense to do that. "Oh. I'm glad she's okay. That she's fine. Um..." She should go find Vi. She would get better words out of her, a better understanding. "Okay. I'm gonna go find your sister. Bye?" Shit. That was probably the worst way to end a conversation, but it just happened, and she was shifting awkwardly as she tried to think of the best way to get anywhere.

[attr="class","cherries"]# Arthur Stroud   | # 000 | # every single part of this is insanely awkward i love it

[attr="class","credz"]♕fai

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She was right, “pathetic” pretty much summed it up. He nodded grimly in agreement, not seeing a reason to add anything. She was a Gryffindor, like the victim. It must have shocked her far more. He almost forgot about it — no, not forgot. His fate was just replaced with the fear for his mother. He had laughed at Vi for worrying before that because how could anyone want to harm their mum? She was an internationally renowned archeologist. Nobody in their right mind would dream of harming her. It had seemed ridiculous. Nobody would allow it to happen. But he had also thought that cutting out tongues would never happen at Hogwarts. Or that they’d be forbidden from leaving? And then these Muggleborn registrations? He hadn’t been able to think about it without feeling like he was going crazy. It was almost a miracle that he had made it through those days. Or up to this point at all, for he hadn't done much else but learn, learn, and learn until he crashed, hopefully too exhausted to have nightmares.

And now it was all over. It was surreal. He didn’t understand, and he couldn’t make any sense out of it. He was missing something, right? It was about all that he had been able to figure out from his talk with Vi. The weird hidden message. Why a hidden message? Because their mail was being searched? But the extra-note hadn’t said anything extraordinary, just that they’d see her on the next Hogsmeade weekend. That couldn’t be more secret than the rest of the letter. Not when the problem was that his mum was Muggleborn. If that was the problem? But dozens of Muggleborn students had been forbidden to attend Hogwarts. Muggleborns were being enslaved. So how did any of this make sense?

Maybe sometimes things just didn’t make sense, like this conversation that had suddenly turned to Quidditch. “That’s cool,” he mumbled. No, things just not making sense was not enough as an explanation. So what- “Yeah, sure, bye,” he stammered. That had been sudden. It was true that he had tried to figure out a good way to say “bye” for a while now, and there was relief flooding through him that he would no longer have to attempt to make conversation with the girl. But she had sounded so very curt. Like she had given up on pretending to be polite. He shouldn’t be that surprised about it. He also had only talked to her because it was the polite thing to do, to interact with his sister’s friend. He had to stop feeling… affronted? Disappointed? Anyway, the conversation was over, thankfully? “I’ll see you around,” he blurted out and turned on his heel, only remembering when he was a corridor away that he was heading in the completely wrong direction. Now he could do nothing but turn around and hope that Clio had moved elsewhere so that he would be spared from having to avoid her.

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End of Awkward Thread