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[attr="class","ctopline"]dumbledore's army

[attr="class","cscriptclaw"]still recruiting

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[attr="class","clyrics"]down with the carrows[break]
long live harry potter

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[attr="class","cbody"]Date: 16 April 1998[break]
Location: Hogwarts[break]
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Dumbledore’s Army had been founded when they had thought that there couldn’t possibly be anyone worse than Umbridge running the place. And it had helped. They had actually learned something—more than they had from not just Umbridge, but Lockhart too. They had gotten through that year far better off for it than they would have been if they had just been being taught by that toad.
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But this year, it was different.
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This year, it wasn’t some Ministry hag that didn’t want to teach them anything. They had thought that was as bad as it could get, but they had been wrong. The Carrows were so much worse. Snape was so much worse. Hogwarts was a completely different place than it had been his past years at the school. In some ways, he barely recognized it.
[break][break]
They weren’t just going to accept that. There was no way that they were going to just sit around and let the Carrows spew their propaganda, or torture students, and not do anything about it. Dumbledore’s Army starting up again wasn’t about teaching this time around. It was about survival. They needed to stick together. They needed each other.
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And tonight, there was a first year that the Carrows had chained up that needed him. If he hadn’t gone, then he knew that Neville or Seamus or any one of the rest of the D.A. would do the same. Those who were left, anyway. Luna and Ginny were both gone, but they were going to keep going. Tonight, making sure that a first year didn’t spend a second longer chained up fell to him. He had no problem taking that risk. Someone had to do it.
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Sneaking around the castle had become somewhat of second nature to him at this point. Sure, he’d snuck out in years past for far more fun reasons, but he could adapt to this kind of sneaking. The kind where getting caught had meant that he’d likely be chained right up with that first year at best. He wasn’t sure what the ‘at worst’ would be.
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Michael had thought that he would be able to get them unchained and back up to the Gryffindor common room in no time at all.
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But he was wrong. Dear Merlin, he was wrong.
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By the time the Carrows had been done with him, he was sure that his screams had woken up the entire castle.
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Even when the Great Hall had gone quiet, even when the echoes of the Carrows’ footsteps had completely faded away, he hadn’t been able to even think about moving. He’d been sure that he was just going to have to lay there for the rest of the night. That was probably what the Carrows had been hoping for—that he would send a message to the rest of the student body in the morning when they came in for breakfast and saw his unconscious—or dead body lying there.
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No. That just wasn’t an option.
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Groaning, he tried to push his hands to the floor, to move onto his hands and knees. Anything was an improvement from being collapsed in a pile on the floor. But it was then that he heard footsteps again, and then the familiar voices of some of his roommates. He could barely form a sentence together as they pulled him to his feet and headed in the direction in the common room.
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Much of the walk was a complete blur to him. When he came to again, they were in the common room and one of his roommates was yelling, “Isobel!” He had no idea if the girl in question was in the common room already or not. It was late, and he had no concept of how long he’d been in an immobile heap on the floor. He groaned again as they tried to ease him down onto one of the couches.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]652 ● @isobel

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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dumbledore's army

[attr="class","reasonsmallisobel_young"]still recruiting, DOWN WITH THE CARROWS, LONG LIVE HARRY POTTER

[attr="class","reasonbodisobel_young"]The world was changing. And all Isobel could think about was her sister’s laughter.

For years, she’d fought back against what people thought of purebloods. Some believed that she was a purist herself – playing into the heavy-handed elitism that so many of them leaned towards. But Isobel wasn’t like that. She didn’t believe that they were any better than anyone else… But her sister did.

Ever since they’d arrived at Hogwarts seven years ago, Morag had been sorted into Slytherin and she’d lost her even more than she had when they’d been at home. She hung around those that believed that because of their bloodline, they were better than the rest of the school. They laughed when the Carrows took the tired little first-years away from their common rooms and chained them up like animals. They laughed.

She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees, pulling them towards her chest. A part of her wanted to cry. How had things ended up like this? Why wasn’t anyone protecting them? Here they were in an impenetrable bubble with people who probably wanted to see most of them dead.

It was the reason Dumbledore’s Army had become so important. It had become a way for them to band together when it felt like the whole world was crumbling around them. Isobel had joined in her fifth year when Harry Potter and his friends had started it. It had been Cho’s idea…and then everything had cracked and fallen down around them.

But this time, it was different. They needed this – they needed to stick together and protect one another because it was clear that the Professors didn’t care about them. It was clear that the whole of Hogwarts was going to hell in a handbasket. And Morag and her friends were probably just laughing.

What were they going to do? She thought, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

They’d fought back as best they could, so far. Little things here and there to annoy the Death Eaters that had them trapped in the one “safe place” they’d ever known. But things were escalating. They’d taken a first year…and Michael Corner hadn’t been about to let that slide.

The whole room was on edge as they waited for his return. But he didn’t come back. An hour passed before some of his roommates snuck out to look for him. But that had been ten minutes ago. Had something happened? Isobel drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

The sound of the common room’s door opening made Isobel turn sharply. Had he freed the first year? “Is he okay?” She clambered to her feet, struggling to push herself out of the comfort of the common room’s large sectional. When she finally freed herself, she could see them standing in the doorway. “Oh my gosh,” she was already spurring herself forward, tilting Michael’s head up in her hands as she looked him over. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but he looked worse for wear. He looked horrible, Isobel thought as she felt her pulse quicken.

The boys moved with purpose, transferring Michael out of their arms and onto the couch where she’d been perched only a few minutes ago. She immediately was fumbling through her bag, pulling out a few of the ingredients that she’d taken from the potions storeroom when they’d snuck out last to gather supplies and paint a few of the walls with DA. Dittany was the first thing in her hand and Isobel quickly plucked some of the leaves from the plant stem and crushed them in her hands. A trickle of green liquid slid down her fingertips as she applied it to the cuts and bruises she could see on his face. “Michael? Can you hear me?” She didn’t know if he was conscious or unconscious. It was difficult to tell with all the swelling.

[attr="class","reasontagisobel_young"]@ battered + bruised | 649 | OUTFIT

[attr="class","credisobel_young"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","clyrics"]down with the carrows[break]
long live harry potter

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[attr="class","cbody"]Fighting back against the Carrows, fighting back against Snape… there was only so much that they could actually do. But that wasn’t going to stop them. They weren’t going to just sit around and act like everything was fine, when they all knew that it was far from it. There were faces of their friends that should be there in their minds when they wrote on the walls that Dumbledore’s Army was still recruiting—Dean, Justin, and Harry, and Ron, and Hermione… all people that should still be there with them but weren’t.
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There was Luna, who hadn’t come back after the winter holidays. That had been bad enough. They had all worried and had tried to get into contact with her but with no luck. They had no idea where she was or if she was even alive. They all just knew that The Quibbler had stopped being pro-Potter the moment that she had disappeared. And that said enough.
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Every single holiday, less people came back, but Ginny not coming back after the Easter holidays had ended a few days prior, everyone had been surprised. And once again, worried. Had she been targeted just like Luna had? Or had her mum just finally gotten her way and had kept her home for her own safety? They didn’t know.
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They just knew that it left Neville running the DA on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it—he could. That had been the biggest surprise to Michael this year. Whatever impressions he might have had about the Gryffindor prior to this year had changed.
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And Michael was going to do whatever he could to back him up. They weren’t going to stop. They weren’t going to just lay down and die—or do whatever the Carrows asked of them. They were going to learn that they couldn’t take Hogwarts that easily.
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Most of the staff that they had grown up with were still here. McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout—but they weren’t doing anything. They weren’t standing up to the Carrows either. Maybe they thought that was what was best. Maybe they thought that they needed to look at the bigger picture and try to keep the peace for the good of the students.
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But this wasn’t peace. This wasn’t anywhere near it. Chaining up first years, letting Slytherins practice the torture curse on kids that were serving detention—that wasn’t peace. And it certainly wasn’t the Hogwarts that he had known for the past six years.
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If that meant sneaking out of his dorm to go and help a first year that the Carrows had chained up for no good reason, then that was what he was going to do. He had known that it was risky, but everything these days was a risk. Walking to class was a bloody risk, for Merlin’s sake. At least this risk was worthwhile. At least it kept someone safe, which mattered far more than anything else he could do with his time.
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But in the end, what had it even been good for? The moment that he’d heard the Carrows’ voices, he knew that he was done for. Torture wasn’t any big concern for him, it had become the norm for a lot of them this year, but by the time they were done with him, even breathing felt like too much work.
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They did love their Crucios—especially when they did it at the same time, which was nearing on unbearable. But the slicing hexes, the burning hexes, and the amount of times they had slammed him into a wall… it was no wonder he could barely stand without support.
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By the time they had made it back to the common room, he felt close to passing out from the pain. Or the blood loss. He was still bleeding, wasn’t he? At this point, all of the pain was mixing together. “MacDougal…” his voice was raspy—and quieter than he would have liked, but after all of the screaming, it was a wonder he could take at all. “Yeah, I hear ya.” His eyes could barely open from all of the cuts, forming bruises, and swelling, but he could make out Isobel’s form in front of him. Just barely. He could tell there were other people in the common room too—he heard their whispers, and mentions of someone needing to go get Neville, but even going to the other side of the seventh floor to Gryffindor Tower seemed like a risk at this point.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]754 ● @ isobel

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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dumbledore's army

[attr="class","reasonsmallisobel_young"]still recruiting, DOWN WITH THE CARROWS, LONG LIVE HARRY POTTER

[attr="class","reasonbodisobel_young"]Morag probably thought that it was hilarious, didn’t she? She’d probably even been there when they were doing this to Michael. Because that was the sort of person that she was. Cold…heartless… She’d always believed her sister was redeemable, but tonight, Isobel wasn’t quite sure that she was. She was the sort of person that believed this was right. Morag believed that people like Michael Corner deserved pain and suffering for doing the good and pure thing. They might be pureblood, but Isobel had never felt more like tainted blood ran through her veins. She drew in a quick breath, trying to steady herself.

She was projecting. She knew she was. In truth, Morag was probably nowhere near the Carrows tonight. She was probably tucked into the Slytherin Common Room sleeping soundly… She was her sister, not the monsters that did this to one of her friends.

They were too young for this. All of them were. Even as one of the oldest, it felt like they were children fighting a battle that was meant for adults. How could they possibly hope to win?

And yet, they somehow kept coming out alright. They had cuts and bruises, just like Michael, but they were still alive. And that was something in all this madness. He spoke her last name and relief instantly flooded over her like a crashing wave and Isobel let go of the breath that she had inadvertently been holding in. “Oh thank Merlin. At least your ears aren’t broken. Can’t say the same for your nose,” Isobel felt herself smile, marginally. It wasn’t a laughing matter — she was just glad that he wasn’t dead.

But she had wounds to attend to. She needed to help him with the pain and make sure that he would last through the night. Calculating, she paused as she pulled another few leaves off of the Dittany plant and crushed them in her hands. With quick movements, she applied it to Michael’s bruised and swollen chin, listening intently to the chatter around her.

“Don’t…we can’t risk getting Neville…” Isobel said, addressing some of the concerns on the other side of the common room. Sending someone else out there…someone else into the belly of the beast just seemed like a mistake. Isobel wasn’t sure what else they could do, though. Would her knowledge be enough to make sure Michael wasn’t in pain all night? She wasn’t sure.

With a heavy sigh, she reached up and pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. “See what we have around the common room, I think I have some salves and bandages upstairs in my trunk.” She wasn’t usually the one to be in charge. Isobel believed in what was right, but she’d yet to find her voice. At least, until tonight. Tonight, it felt like Michael Corner’s life was in her hands and she was sure as Merlin going to do her best to make sure he woke up the next morning.

As one of the younger students ran to the girl’s dormitory, Isobel returned her attention to Michael. “You…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say…how could she make this better. “That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

[attr="class","reasontagisobel_young"]@ bravest boy i've ever known | 538 | OUTFIT

[attr="class","credisobel_young"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","cscriptclaw"]still recruiting

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[attr="class","clyrics"]DOWN WITH THE CARROWS[break]
LONG LIVE HARRY POTTER

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[attr="class","cbody"]Gryffindor hadn’t been a choice for him that the Sorting Hat had even considered. It had been Ravenclaw all the way, simple as that. It was strange that it was somehow his sorting that his mind had wanted to in a haze, but it had. Brave and daring—those weren’t traits that described him. They never had been. Yes, he liked to think that he was a decently good person, but he had never been the first to jump into the fray, not ever. He hadn’t even been sure of Dumbledore’s Army at first, though he had grown fonder of it as the year had gone on.
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This year had changed that. It had made him braver—or reckless, more like. After seeing everything that the Carrows were capable of, of everything that they were allowed to do without any professors saying a word, without anyone doing anything. Well, it was no wonder that he felt like he had to do something. And with people like Neville to look to, like Seamus, and Ginny… maybe that was what had made him brave, really. The people around him.
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It wasn’t what the Sorting Hat would have thought him capable of, but here he was. The decision to sneak out of the dormitory to try to release that first year had been a reckless one, he knew that, but it had been necessary. He simply wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing when he knew what was happening.
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With how often they snuck out to paint on the walls, to steal supplies, maybe he had been a little overconfident. He had really thought that he could get down there and get them out without getting caught. He knew this castle like the back of his hand—they all did. The Carrows had been here once upon a time, but not in ages. He had to think that gave them some kind of advantage. There were things that they had to have forgotten.
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But that hadn’t been enough this time.
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He was lucky to have friends that had come looking for him. As determined as he had been to get up off the floor and get back to his dormitory, deep down he knew that there was no way he would have been able to make it up to the seventh floor. Not a chance in hell.
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If he had managed to walk, he probably wasn’t naïve enough to even try it. He would have made it up half a flight of stairs at the most. More than likely, he would have tried to get to the Hufflepuff commons instead. He hadn’t known where those were until this year, when all of a sudden it became necessary to know where to go for safety from the Carrows.
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Even getting to that common room would have been a feat, though, so he was relieved to be back in Ravenclaw Tower. Assuming his injuries weren’t severe enough to kill him, he was safe for another night. “I think it’ll… give me a distinguished look,” he retorted, with a half smile, a wet cough stopping him from continuing. When he brought his hand away from his mouth, the familiar deep red of blood spattered his palm. That couldn’t be a good sign.
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His eyes were unfocused as he tried to watch MacDougal order people around the common room. That was a sight he wouldn’t mind being able to see better, since he couldn’t remember the last time he heard Isobel MacDougal taking charge. Eventually, with people talking amongst themselves about what to do, her focus turned back to him and that same half smile formed on his lips. “Nah… if I hadn’t done it, someone else would have.” He was sure of it.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]628 ● @ macdougal

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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