(ooc posting: most of what I will be writing in here will be things which have happened in the character's past. meaning, of course, they cannot be touched upon by the characters in the module unless they can jump back a few years...)

The Professional Amateur
(Ares Richard Keeferson - Age Ten)

- Just came back from the Canadian Ministry of Magic. They said they aren't certain about my illness, but there are some experts overseas whom can help. They keep talking about this "Hogwarts" thing like its a miracle drug. I don't know what they are referring to, so I'll ask my friend's dad about it. He knows all about stuff like that. So does my teacher, but she wasn't there today. I'll ask her about it as well.

As usual, they didn't take what I had to say seriously at all. It's like because I'm only ten years old, I can't make an opinion of what I want to do with my life. All they could do was rave on about "Hogwarts" can do this and "Hogwarts" may be able to do that. What do they expect it to do, anyway? It's a plant, like St. John's Wort and aconite, right? Why can't they just get one of their friend's brother's cousin's old DJ to bring some in with them on the next flight in from England and be done with it? If it's so blasted special, I can't see why they don't even grow it themselves here. Heck, people do that with -weed- all the time, and that's not native to Canada...

I hate this place, these offices filled with people in weird outfits, weird mustaches, and weird food. I mean, the secretary offered me a glass of pumpkin juice. Juice? From a pumpkin? You make -pie- with pumpkins, or -soup- or even -cookies,- but not freakin' juice! That's just like... bleh! I drank it anyway, because my mother told me to not be rude to anyone like the last time. (It's not my fault that creepy old guy called me a freak and I stomped his toe until he bent down enough for me to hit him... He shouldn't have said anything.)

Wish my dad had been able to come, but I don't think that's going to be possible. Seems that whenever the people from THIS place come calling on me, the people from the OTHER office come calling on my parents - like they never want us all in the room at the same time or something. I hate these people. They smell funny, they dress funny, and they keep on insisting they know what is best for me. As if. What's best for me is if they'd just leave me alone - especially on a day I was -going- to go to the local arcade. There's a round of Street Fighter II calling my name, and these people are keeping me from it.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: this particular writing is set up like a diary/journal entry.)

I Just Can't Wait To Get Started
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age ten)

- Books. More books. Even more books. My teacher has given me so many books to read through at night AFTER I do my "muggle" homework, I think I am going to need glasses like my dad has. Perhaps even bifocals, or trifocals, or even quad-focals if they make those. Not to mention all these books have some really weird names to them. I mean, check out some of these?

> "The Starter's Book Of Magical Reality" by Topper Diancecht
> "More Spells Than You Can Shake A Stick At" by Roden Taleamagus
> "How Not To Get Yourself Jinxed" by Rupert Brookstanton
> "Wizard's Chess For The Advanced" by Montague Knightley

I mean... why? And whom? And once again... why? What is this stuff? "Wizard's Chess?" I am not even good at -regular- chess and now there's a version just for wizards? I mean, what kind of **** is that? So they really needed to waste all that time coming with a style of chess that is only for sorcerers and other people with wiggly sticks that throw fireballs at each other? That's some straight up ********, but I can't tell my teacher that: she'd wash my mouth out with soap. Twice. And THEN she'd tell my parents. I can't afford that kind of hassle.

So here I am, reading through a bunch of books that make no kind of sense at all. Next time I steal away downtown, I am going to hunt down a bunch of books all about magic for real. Written by REAL people with REAL names, not some of this nonsense. I mean, check out some of the other books I have to read. It's word-up ludicrous if nothing else.

> "Tertiary Uses for Submarine Flora Both Magical and Mundane" by Eleanor Q. Ketteridge
> "Where There's A Wand, There's A Way (junior edition)", collected by Asterix M. Rastrick
> "Twenty Warlocks Went To Sea (anthology)", collected by Thalassia Taranis, O.o.M.
> "So You Want To Be A Wizengamot's Personal Page" by Samuel Loerdeoveur

What the **** is a Wizengamot, and why would I want to be their gofer in the first place? I have no idea what that Wiz....whatever thing is, but I'd rather choke myself with cod liver oil. And then there's this "Tertiary Uses" book, as if the primary and secondary uses wouldn't be good enough. Not to mention the book's foreword is by some person by name of Dorcas Wellbeloved. I mean, that just SOUNDS like a Bond Girl in the making.

If this is what I have to look forward to IF my parents make me go overseas, I am catching the first flight home the moment I get.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc posting: this work takes place during Keeferson's first year at Hogwarts.)

From Pranksters to Punishment
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age eleven)

Keeferson was in the detention room reserved for "harder cases." In short, he was in the dungeons. Why the dungeons? Due to the fact within his first week of being inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had been found fighting no less than four times. Given that would be an average of one fighter per day, it seemed that Keeferson (or "the hooded menace" as he had been dubbed by some of his fellow students) was overdue for a punishment of some sort. There were two interesting things about this punishment: the nature of it, and whom it was that gave it to him.

First, he was to write lines. Not a mere one hundred lines, or perhaps even five hundred lines. No, Keeferson was to write two thousand lines of "I must not threaten the lives of others with my words or actions in reckless fashion." As one might have guessed, the creation of this document cost Keeferson the majority of the parchment he had purchased for the month. Not to mention, the act of writing all those lines took him the better portion of the following week. (During the weekend, he had been assigned indoor activities which took him out of the line of vision of most of his classmates from dawn until midnight.) One of the other curious things about this was the distinct lack of supervision. He was just expected to find the dungeon space alloted to him, and write there until he was finished. He did, only because he used the location to catch up on all of his homework when no prefects or teachers were walking in on him.

Secondly, he had been busted by none other than Professor Sybil Trelawny. During one of her rare (as far as the students know) rounds in the castle, She had caught up to what looked to be the makings of a fierce fracas. There, in the fourth floor hallway, were five young students: four of them Ravenclaw students, and one singular Hufflepuff. None had drawn their wands yet, but it was obvious the Ravenclaw lads were older and probably had the upper hand. It was only until the Divinations teacher heard Keeferson open his mouth when she realized something significant: the boy was three shades PAST crazy. The level of cursing uttered was something akin to watching someone kicked in the groin by donkey: painful to watch no matter if you liked the person or not. The fact the young Hufflepuff was using three languages to verbally abuse his adversaries didn't make it any better. The third year Ravenclaws, seeing Professor Trelawny, bolted for the high hills before they could be caught. Keeferson, not seeing whom was behind him (or caring) kept on going before he was snagged and taken away... still cursing.

Ever since then, Keeferson has hated both Divinations and Professor Trelawny. And a good number of the Ravenclaw boys two years above him. And Peeves... just because Peeves deserves to be hated.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc posting: this is mainly a post about books - real ones. it should be nice and boring.)

Please Keep All Fingers Away From Edges
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age 12)

Keeferson had made it a point to have a small library with him at all times. After his first year at Hogwarts, he knew perfectly well that relying on their school library to have some of the things he wanted was completely impractical. Heck, it was unrealistic. So, he used some of his pocket money to hit up a few (dozen) used book stores while he was inside of Toronto to get a few things to take with him on the trip back to Hogwarts for his Second Year. His First Year within the "premier school of magic for young people" had proven to be most eventful. This time, he vowed to himself, he would be a little more prepared. Given that he was not allowed to go to the magical streets of Toronto without adult accompaniment (read: Canadian Ministry of Magic appointed "guardians"), he made do with getting his more Mundane (read: muggle) collection up to date... so to speak. Here are some of the books he managed to get for himself in the first week:

- The Russian Trilogy by C.J. Cherryh
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Russia ... J._Cherryh)
- Dictionnaire Infernal by Jacques Auguste Simon Collin de Plancy
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dictionnaire_Infernal
- Il Principe (The Prince) by Niccolò Machiavelli.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Prince
- The Art of War (Chinese: 孫子兵法) by Sun Tzu
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_art_of_war
- a copy of an unabridged dictionary from 1941
- a copy of the Authorized King James version of the Bible
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_James_Bible
- Myths and Legends of the Pacific Northwest selected by Katharine Berry Judson
- American Indian Myths and Legends by Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz
- The Watchmen (Trade Paperback Novel) by Alan Moore
- From Hell (Trade Paperback Novel) by Alan Moore
- a few works from William Shakespeare, including "A Midsummer's Night Dream," "Hamlet," and "Julius Caesar"

When he was asked about why he would want so many Mundane books at a magical school, he answer was brief and cold: "I want to be reminded of the real world." Of course, the Minstry staff member who was cataloguing all of this was hardly impressed, and made an off-handed comment about how muggle-born children going to Hogwarts should be more gracious and grateful. The foot Keeferson drove home into the man's shoe was nothing compared to what he really wanted to do, but his mother had already informed him that hurling desks at people was going to be met with severe punishment when he got home.

In the end, the amount of books that Keeferson managed to take with him was light in comparison to his clothes and the food he brought on the trip. It was mainly thanks to other people in the Ministry (whom were his normal "handlers") using various spells to decrease their size and mass. Keeferson made sure to pay attention to all these spells around him, trying to memorize them to master himself when he returned to Hogwarts for his Second Year... in robes that fit him for a change.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: this is set during the time of the school lockdown)

No Angels Will Sing With Thee This Eve
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age 13... and a bit)

The young man sat at a desk by himself. Ushered into the Hufflepuff Common Room by none other than Deputy Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall herself, Keeferson found himself surrounded with a fat lot of nothing. All the other students had probably gone to their rooms or to other Commons rooms. In short, he had the entire place to himself, except for the watchful and friendly gaze of The Fat Friar. As he had nothing in particular he wanted to confess to The Fat Friar at the time, he pulled out a few scrolls and some half-finished parchments.

"Great. Nikolai I saw sprinting. Liss is... doing something. Alexis decided to have words with me after Sierra and that blond guy from Ravenclaw took off together - probably to check on some of the others. There are damned thief-takers somewhere in the school - more than likely still upstairs. And Professor McGonagall actually believes I would be safer in here than just about anywhere else in the school. Yeah, right.

Power -is- the only thing that will keep me safe. Proof is all around me. And I know as a fact this school will do its best to keep me from the power that should rightly be mine to wield. I got one of these wands, don't I? I speak out Latin, and crazy things happen, right? Owls like resting on me to just perch whenever I go out by myself close to Hagrid's hut, and I can still feel my fingers tingling.

Power. I know it is out there. I know it is in me. I need to get myself under control for once. It's like whenever I feel that -way,- I start coasting. It's like running on black ice and then trying to change directions mid-stride. Sure it's possible in theory, but the practical sends me crashing into a wall, or a door, or another detention. I need to get something that will help. Maybe one of those books about tai chi chu'an that Siu Keuwn was always telling me about.

Power. Liss has it. Nikolai has it. Sierra has it. And me? I am just fiddling around, looking at books with that stupid ******* on the cover, Lockhart. If there weren't laws protecting his life, I'd shred all of his books and just bury his grinning **** underneath about ten meters of the stuff... then set it all on fire. I can't stand him, and I really can't stand the fact that even -HE- has power that I don't... yet. It's not as if he's really smart or anything, because I've corrected his spelling thrice now in the middle of classes about the most basic of things. The stupid ********* can't even spell Stonehedge properly, or Gaelic. And he is supposed to be teaching me? I am better off dragging random books down from the shelves in the library and reading them upside-down."

The young man looked in his bag, finding a few medium sized items. A wand made of metal, covered in the leaves of a White Claudia, was the first to be brought out. The next item was a seven-sided star, made of a strange crystal. And the final object was wrapped in cloth - a heavy bronze coin with old Latin text on it. Setting them all out before him, he looked around. Noting there was still none to disturb him, he set to scribing out all of their properties... in Mandarin.

The process of explaining what things are in a language not native to you is a painful one. It is even more difficult when trying to translate processes - scientific or magical - and needing to refer to both memory and a series of dictionaries, thesauruses, and previous letters. However, Keeferson obviously had nothing but time to kill here. Making sure not to miss anything, he made it a point to double-check all of his work before setting them off to one corner of the large desk. It was not as if by this time anyone would show up out of nowhere and start asking questions. If there was anything Keeferson disliked, it was people asking questions about what he was writing. After all, if they were meant to understand it, they would already know Mandarin. He was not about to do the hard work for them. Packaging each one of the items separately, he smiled to himself under the hood. Three hours of lockdown completed, who knew how many left to go.

Making sure all the packages were sealed, he set up proper postage for different items along with directions for how they should be shipped. Summoning a few of the school owls in the midst of the lockdown was a little difficult, but not impossible. After all, it was not the birds being stymied in their movements, but the monkeys with the sticks of power. Writing all the intricate details of what should be done with each package down on a separate scroll, he attached the scrolls to the legs of each of the owls, giving them all chunks of beef he had saved for just such an occasion. If nothing else, Keeferson loved to spoil the owls, for they reminded him so much of home. Not that he saw a lot of owls where he lived in the city, but it was about as close to a Canadian animal as he would see here in Hogwarts. Placing an extra few coins as tips to the handlers of the post inside of Hogsmeade, he sent the owls on their way.

Smiling darkly to himself underneath his hood, he sighed as he put away the scrolls he had been using. Making certain not to crease them, he placed them all back in his bag. Tomorrow, he would return the lot of them to Madam Pince. Tomorrow, he would also give her back this most recent book on Alchemy. It was not as if he had finished with the subject, but he wanted to borrow something else which was supposed to be available to him. And in order to remain in Madam Pince's good graces, he would have to return quite a few books and scrolls to the library long before the expiry date. He had made it a policy to borrow as few books as possible from the more popular sections of the school library. Madame Pince had been wondering about that, or so Keeferson believed. He never bothered to ask her, and she had never confessed anything to him. Most of what he had found "imperative reading" had been at least twice as old as his parents. All the newer tomes and manuals would have their time in Keeferson's mind, but you were less likely to get hassled if you borrowed something most people forgot existed.

"Back to Alchemy, I guess. It's not as if they are going to send a teacher in here to tuck me into bed if I can't sleep for whatever reason. That, and that Maze of Knosus book I need to cover tonight. Alchemy can create that power that Potions can, but on a permanent basis. I learn how to work with that, then I get into what I really want to start devising. Professor Sinestra already looked over my Arithmancy and said it was perfect. Professor Binns skimmed over my notes and swears I got everyone and everything accurate in terms of the hard copy notes and essays I finished for all of this. All I need now is to show it all to Professor Snape and get started."

With a sigh, he looked at the door from the Common rooms to the "outside world" (better known as The Entrance Hall). It was trying to set up a meeting with Professor Snape which was proving to be extremely difficult. Sure, he -could- opt for a different teacher, but Alchemy was close enough to Potions to be under Professor Snape's jurisdiction. That, and he wanted to have the Potions Master make sure all of his work was current and correct. Not that he was worried about massive errors. It had been three years to get to the point where he was now - and was with the far more intricate works. The thing involving Emily... that had been weeks ago he had started on that project, and it was more than done at least four days ago. Everything hinged on getting into the dungeons and making things happen for real.

Looking around once more, he packed up all of his things and set his head down on the desk. Keeferson wasn't interested in going into the boys' dormitory. There was nothing waiting for him there. In the end, he dragged out a blanket and a pillow, falling asleep on the couch. His dreams were fleeting and dark, and the next day he could only recall the sight of blood, of teeth, of fur, and a silver spike going through his hand and into the mass of teeth... with a woman's gentle laughter teasing his memory far past the moment of awakening.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: yes, this takes place in England)

The Occidental Tourist (In G-minor)
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age 12)


Going to Diagon Alley by yourself was never something advised to any student of Hogwarts. In fact, it was not something approved on by parents of any magically gifted youngster. However, what Keeferson's mother didn't know, she couldn't ground him for on those all too infrequent visits home to Toronto. As well, it is not as if she would know what to pick up in a magical street in terms of scholastic items. However, Keeferson was not interested in anything that Diagon Alley had to provide. No, he was in Diagon Alley to slide into a decidedly more seamy part of town: Knockturn Alley.

Knockturn Alley had a reputation all its own. One of the most important things to remember, however, was that it was all true. No matter what the rumour was, it was important to keep in mind -something- had to start that bit of myth. From tales that Merlin's ghost walked the streets at night, to there were cats that walked through walls. Every single story had an origin, and those who disbelieved everything were destined to become part of the "mystery history" of Knockturn Alley itself. Looking at people in the eye was as dangerous as not doing such. Hidden back streets and scum-covered curbs were merely part of the "natural ambience" of the place. And most importantly: what happened in Knockturn Alley stayed in Knockturn Alley... unless your reputation could take the hit.

This was not the first time he had been to Knockturn Alley. That had been the previous year, when he slipped out of sight of Ministry staff members on purpose. What he had discovered there had blown his mind. Making sure to learn how to get to and from that section of town without being seen by many, he had made a few other visits. Of course it was the last time he had been to Knockturn Alley that fate decided to catch up with him in the form of trouble. And this trouble had a name... and opposable thumbs.

* * * * *

"Oi there, runt! I think you spilled some of my drink on my shoe!"

That was the first Keeferson heard of the man behind him. He had been rushing through the alleys and side streets, making sure to keep himself on time. He had banked on perhaps fifteen minutes of time to be wasted in navigation, but it turned out that most of it had been used up window shopping. There had been authentic puzzle spheres from China inside of the last shop that Keeferson had visited. Knowing he didn't really have the money for any of them, he had asked the store owner how much he wanted for them. When he heard the (to his ears) bargain basement prices, he had naturally asked what the catch was. It turned out all he had to do was solve one of them within three minutes... and purchase all of them at the same time. (Keeferson was then banned from the store for finding the answer within thirty seconds - all the spheres hurled after him in fury.)

Keeferson looked up at the man, who stood close to six feet... and had at least a full three stone (forty some odd pounds) on Keeferson's own weight. This did not look good for the young man at all. As the ruffian grabbed Keeferson by his "wandering robes," the alcohol-enriched breath of the man made the young student from Hogwarts want to vomit. Still, he remained as motionless as possible, wanting to find out exactly what the man had in mind to do. Given that magic for youngsters was frowned upon outside of school and easily tracked, the Canadian hardhead wracked his brains for a suitable response.

"Did you hear me, bucko? You made me spill my drink! And now... I'll take it out of your skinny hide. How do you like that, eh whelp? I'll beat ya just like your mother should have and-"

The screech of pain that the man uttered was directly in response to Keeferson's grabbing the man's left middle finger with his right hand... and pulling it back until it broke. The second noise the man heard was his nose shattering by Keeferson's vicious (and utterly panicked) headbutt. Dashing backwards, the young Canuck looked around for a brick or something to hit the man with as the now bleeding villain started to reach for a wand.

"I'm going to kill ya, you little quirt! I'm gonna burn you like ash! Incendi-!"

The man never finished what he was going to say, as a spell smashed into his ribcage, causing him to fall over unconscious. Keeferson knew that it wasn't him, and looked around for his mysterious benefactor - or the person stealing a kill. The soft laughter came from above him on a railing. As he looked up, the man in the long trenchcoat jumped off the railing and landed softly as if he had done such before. Brushing himself off, the auburn-haired man spun around, pocketing his wand.

"Looks like you owe me a favour, lad. Come on, we'll hit up a pub and we'll discuss how you don't get yourself inta fights with the local toughs. If I was going ta snuff you myself, I woulda done so already, now wouldn't I?"

And with a winning grin, the man held out his hand for Keeferson to follow him. Given that the tall youth knew he was hopelessly outclassed, he followed. And it was at this time that Keeferson met up with Liam Creidhne. And it was also at this time, that Keeferson's life leapt out of his hands to spiral completely out of control. Of course, the young man had no idea that is what occured... nor does he still. What he did realize though, was that Liam was completely different than anyone he had met previously. He had a "crew" of people that he chose to associate with: Talaitha Haldane, Scathach MacNessa, Aeronwy Rhonabwy, and Tiernan Leekstone. There was a sixth person, but Keeferson never caught their name. He only surmised there was a sixth from the moment Liam left the table with a satchel and came back with an envelope. He chose not to ask, as some things were best off knowing nothing about.

"... and so this chap here found himself running into freakin' Sonny Reb'Liarghain. If I hadn't a gotten there, I'm pretty sure either the kid would be still running for the hills or his spleen would be all over the back alley that way. So what do you think, lads? (And yes, Talaitha and Aeronwy I want you in on this one as well.) Shall we let the laddiebuck in? He seems solid, and if I guess right, he might be just what we are lookin' for..."

* * * * *

And so here was Keeferson now, aiming to make an appointment with people whom were probably thieves or worse. Why? They had accepted him. If only for something truly minor, they had accepted him. No questions, no trying to look underneath his hood, nothing. Liam had apparently final say about whom was in or out. They had lost their previous translator for something they were looking to hock due to "a mild disagreement with the local authorities under the boards." And so, none of them could speak Chinese of any dialect, let alone read it. And it JUST so happened that Keeferson could. ("How convenient for us!" was Liam's exact words. How he knew that Keeferson could translate Chinese was explained quietly and quickly: he knew the youth had purchased those puzzle spheres AFTER reading was on them.)

Finding the group within the pub he was instructed to make it to, he set out the various items they had told him to purchase first. Most of the things were common - numerous quills from various birds, different inks, rolls of parchment, even more rolls of papyrus, and at least three log books. The money had been sent to him at Hogwarts via a series of owls. The purchases themselves were frightfully simplistic, acquiring most of it at Hogwarts itself or inside of Hogsmeade. Tiernan was in scribe heaven, almost smearing the brand new quills over his face. (Apparently it was a little risky for the quintet to show themselves in Diagon Alley thanks to a few arguments with local constabulary.)

It was only when the five made sure the table would go completely unmolested when the dagger was shown to Keeferson. Shaking his head once, he knew right away it was a fake. However, after letting Liam and the others know this, he insisted they find a better place for him to look it over. After all, what he had been learning about some fakes was that they contained something a little more... interesting after you stripped away the caked-on lies. And a few hours later with some fancy spell work from Aeronwy and Scathach, they found something a LOT more valuable underneath. It took Keeferson another two hours to painstakingly translate all the tiny script, but it was worth it - at least to Liam.

Keeferson only then realized his entire day was shot. He had spent it all working on translations and hunting down spell suggestions. He sighed once in defeat, until Liam dropped a small pouch of galleons into his hand.

"What's this?"

"It's your cut, laddiebuck. It pays to keep the translator quiet and anonymous, right?"

Keeferson nodded once, completely silent in his stunned state of mind. It was only when Tiernan mentioned the time that the youth snapped out of his stupor. Apologizing for his rush, he packed up all of his personal items and rushed out of the tavern room the group had rented. Tiernan laughed softly to himself, then turned to Liam.

"So, you think the boy has any idea what we are yet?"

"Not a chance, Tiernan. If he can't tell that Talaitha's a Tinker, how would he even think to figure out the rest of us? Besides, my friend, he's a kid. And kids are easily controlled if you know how to direct them. Not that I want to hurt the lad or anything, but it was far too convenient for him to just fall into our lap like that."

"My being a Tinker, Liam, is my business and my business alone. We don't know a single thing about this boy outside of the fact he's from Hogwarts. For the sake of Eire, Liam, you don't even know what the boy looks like."

"Actually, my dear Talaitha, I know all I need to know about young Mister Ares Richard Keeferson. And anything I share betwixt us all STAYS betwixt us all, right? Now then, let me school you in on our little school boy who isn't all that little..."

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: this tale would take place in Toronto, Canada)

Some Things Are Just Not Cute
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age 10)


"You know, I am going to have to give you a nickname, because Ares Richard Keeferson is just too long for me to actually call you all the time. So, what do you think of... Richie? Archie? O'Keefe? C'mon man, Ares is Greek and Richard is BORING... I am so not calling you by your last name all the time!"

And this was the first conversation between Siu Keuwn Sung and Ares Richard Keeferson. It was mostly Siu Keuwn doing the talking, and Keeferson shaking his head. Contrary to popular belief, he could in fact hide the fact his eyes were "Blood crystal stained." It just took him a bit of effort and gave him a headache, making it harder for him to concentrate. The more magic there was within a certain area, the most difficult it became to mask. (This, of course, is why he opted for a hood within Hogwarts itself.)

Eventually, Siu Keuwn had chosen a nickname for Keeferson, which only she and her close friends originally used. This pseudonym came back to haunt him when he was entered into a contest of skill.. but that is another story. However, Keeferson had two names around Siu Keuwn: the "official" nickname, and "Archie." As one might have expected, Keeferson just couldn't find a way out of it. (Yes, Keeferson really does suck when it comes to arguing with women. It's pathetic, he knows that already.)

So "Archie," as he was known, was introduced to Siu Keuwn's family. Keeferson and Siu Keuwn knew each other from a school trip - he went to a Catholic school, and so did she. Except she was popular within her school and he... was definitely not. Still, she was a full two years older than he was, and he was a good four inches taller than she was. Not a bad trade off, considering she was faster, smarter, and infinitely more clever. They made a most interesting pair during the week at the winter camp - especially when people saw Siu Keuwn spend almost an entire lunch hour on Keeferson's shoulders. When Siu Keuwn took the young man home, her parents immediately told her two things:

1) you are not marrying him as you are too young and he is not Asian, and
2) we refuse to change our ways around him, so he will just have to learn Chinese like a civilized person...

and then they told her that dinner was ready, and that they would be using chopsticks. Being that Keeferson was a bit of a klutz when it came to manual dexterity, that dinner proved to be a most embarrassing and enlightening moment in his life. When he went home, he got a call from Siu Keuwn, explaining to him that her parents thought he "wasn't good enough" and that he would have to improve himself for their benefit... whether he wanted to or not.

This was the beginning of Keeferson's informal education of how to read and write in Mandarin Chinese. Siu Keuwn made it a point that every time she saw Keeferson, he would learn at least five new words in Chinese. She bought him comic books, movies, and even took him shopping a few times. Being two kids in some of the stores did not work out too well, especially when he wore a toque and baggy slacks. However, he could now translate the cursing the store owners were hurling at him as they chased out the pair with brooms. Whenever the duo would return with their friends... and their parents... those self same shopkeepers sung a far different tune.

Keeferson spent the next year learning a new language on top of the two others he had to know. He didn't realize he was not learning enough until he came across four books he really liked the covers of, but couldn't for the life of him read what was on the spine. When Siu Keuwn's best friend Qianxiao Lui saw that, she was the one who purchased Keeferson's first hardcover Mandarin-English dictionary... for a small price. (To this day, he refuses to tell anyone the favour he had to exchange with Qianxiao for the dictionary.)

For practical usage, Siu Keuwn and Qianxiao (amongst others) would take Keeferson down into Toronto's Chinatown and head for the arcades. It was here where everything Keeferson had learned would come into play. You see, there are many ways to learn a language. Of the most frequently used, immersion tends to be the most perplexing for some. And diving into the deep end by going into a place where few would acknowledge you without someone vouching for you or burning yourself a place to stand is always a high risk. However, Keeferson learned quickly about Mandarin, and about "the rules" when it came to certain areas. It was also at this time Siu Keuwn's normal circle of friends showed their true nature to Keeferson: predatory. If they liked a boy, they went for him. If they didn't like a person, they defeated him in combat - on the video games, not in the street. The young man found himself a foreigner in his home city, but felt strangely comfortable in his own skin. Here, things made sense. Here, the only things that mattered were skill, respect, and power. The hierarchies made logical sense, and the only problem Keeferson had was people calling him "gweilo" behind his back or to his face. He found himself having to stand down from numerous confrontations at the behest of one of Siu Keuwn's friends or another.

It was only after some guys tried to start a physical fight with him that he finally had enough. The tall youth had called their bluff and challenged them all to one of the least used video games in the entire place - and smoked every last one of them. Hearing them "talk smack" the entire way through, he simply replied on how their strategies in the game worked excellent for different scenarios, but not for a game such as this. And the longer the day went, the more in-depth his dissertation of their gaming styles began. And as night fell, the final boy had been crushed beneath Keeferson's superior Tetris skills. Without a smile, he turned to the group, and kindly thanked them for their attempts... and then told them quite plainly in Mandarin if it had been a game of Mortal Kombat, he would be long broke already. The gathering of youths turned to each other - and then started laughing so hard it scared the arcade owner. Keeferson had been accepted at long last - still an outsider, but no longer to be scorned.

As Keeferson was preparing for life at Hogwarts itself, he made sure to thank Siu Keuwn and her good friend for their help in teaching him the basics of Mandarin Chinese. He made sure to promise to write (which he did), send back things from English (which he also did), and focus on his studies of Mandarin while he was over there. He made sure to leave out any mention of magic, girls, or his illness. It was only when he came back to Canada after the first few months of his time at Hogwarts when he discovered a few "new" truths about Siu Keuwn, Qianxiao, and the tangled webs one weaves when first they feel the need to deceive...

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: this would happen after Keeferson graduated from his first year at Hogwarts, but was not officially inducted into his second year. yes, this is HIS version of summer vacation. the poor, poor *******.)


Why You Should Never Mix Coffee and Orange Juice
(Ares Richard Keeferson - age 11 or 12, somewhere around there)


Being home for the holidays was a special treat for Keeferson. He got to see his family for the first time in months, as well as his friends. Sure, there were a few people he was leaving behind inside of Hogwarts, but he was going back there in two weeks regardless. Even though it was the summer holidays for most students, Keeferson was a special case. Thanks to his illness, he spent more time than was normal on Hogwarts campus. Arguably, he also got to leave during normal school weeks whenever he was invited to come home. This arrangement confused most students, but they accepted it as part of Keeferson's "freak society badge."

Keeferson sought to maximize the time spent at home during his first summer vacation as a Hogwarts student the old-fashioned way: get into as much trouble as possible with as many people as possible, then vanish to where they can't reach you. Or at least, that is what his mother fully expected him to do. The youth knew far better than to try anything as foolish as that. Despite his height, his mother would still put him squarely in his place if he tried anything completely insane - and he knew this. Besides, there was an art and a science to being a chaosbringer. While at Hogwarts, Keeferson's temper was legendary. Inside of Toronto, only people that knew him for years had ever seen it.

During the next fourteen days, Keeferson managed to go to all four corners of Toronto and beyond. Siu Keuwn and Qianxiao corralled him for the final three days before his return, leaving him with eleven days of normalcy. Of course, that is if you called getting thrown out of four arcades within an hour normal along with five other people for "hustling." Then again, that was on the seventh day...

On the first day back from school, Keeferson's first act was to tell his mother that "everything is fine," despite the sullen tone. Removing his gloves and his hood, he hugged his mother tightly and whispered to her that everything was in fact okay. He then spent the next three hours either telling his tutor (Siawn Mournblade) and main teacher (Orlantha Rogerston) in the magical arts (inside of Canada) that he wasn't actually actively trying to kill anyone - at that point of time.

This earned him his first grounding of his time away from Hogwarts.

Throughout the afternoon, Keeferson was stuck in meetings with the Canadian Ministry. Given that he was one of the few foreign students not on an exchange program, they expected updates on his education and his socialization within Hogwarts. They were impressed with one of the pair, but definitely not the other. They had been hoping Keeferson would show "the best of Canadian sorcery in his every day acts." As one could expect, Keeferson's response to this was less than joyous or vibrant.

When he got home, Keeferson was surprised by a party in his honour. They were celebrating his time back from Hogwarts knowing that he would be returning rather swiftly. Choosing not to gorge himself as he did in Hogwarts, he managed to make it through two servings of dinner, declining desert. (He ended up having that the next day.) Most of the later parts of the evening were spent getting back in touch with his four or five real friends inside of Toronto, especially Siawn's son Vik Mournblade. At the same time, he received his first death threat while on home soil. Filing it carefully, he made note to see how many more he would receive before returning to Hogwarts.

For the next three days, Keeferson made it a point to spend an inordinate amount of time in the library systems during the early mornings. Getting up close to daybreak, he would take his bike up to the various libraries he could reach. Professor Snape had sent him home with homework that "had to be complete upon your stepping foot within these hallways." Most of the other students had a full two months to do this. The young Canadian had two weeks. His friends couldn't believe anyone could be so "cruel and heartless" to "destroy perfectly good time-wasting time." Keeferson's attempts to defend the legendary Potions Master fell on deaf ears.

At night, the young man would slip out of the apartment he lived in and just stare at the sky. These were -his- stars and sky, not some foreign country where everyone hated him. Here he was nobody more or less special than anyone else. He could -hide- here. He could be -normal- here. This was home, and nothing Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, or anyone else within Hogwarts could change that fact. He even made it a point one night to sneak into the magical parts of Toronto, just to find Shacadia Shay a present. He was thankful the exchange rate from Galleons to Canadian currency was so favourable, as the gift was terribly expensive.

On his fifth day back, he learned there was far more to being magical inside of Canada than just waving a wand. At a day camp for young wizards, he and Vik spent the majority of the day dealing with challenges (of a sort) from students of different schools. After the two main professors - both colleagues of Orlantha Rogerston as fate would have it - broke up the first altercation, the duo made it a point to virtually disappear from everyone's radar. They had no intention of spending entire day dealing with magical challenges from other magical school delinquents.

On the way home, Vik and Keeferson ended up saving the lives of three kittens tossed out the window from a car. They were in a bag and hit the ground hard, which is why the pair heard the mewling. Keeferson dashed out into the middle of the road, picking up the bag. However, if it wasn't for Vik slamming into Keeferson at high speed, it would have been Keeferson's last day on earth. Both boys were lauded on their bravery... and then immediately grounded for a full day.

The death threat that Keeferson found stuck in the elevator door joined the first one.

The next day, all the Hogwarts student did was homework. As he was grounded from anything resembling fun (including sleeping in), he put that time to good use. At least seven pages of parchment were filled with script, breaking three eagle feather quills in the process. Burning them on his balcony along with some incense, he ended up catching the attention of an owl. Given the rarity of owls inside of Toronto, he spent the late evening just feeding it and giving it attention. Little did he know that the owl had actually been sent to him with another notice from the Canadian Ministry, until he checked its legs. The notice, of course, was to remind him about his next "update" meeting a few days from then.

On the seventh day, Keeferson did anything but rest. To summarize, the day looked like this:
- wake up
- wash up
- have breakfast
- send off owl which had been sleeping in one of his old blankets back to the Ministry
- leave the house
- hit the library with Vik, Qianxiao, Siu Keuwn, and at least twenty people Siu Keuwn insisted were her "cousins"
- get thrown out of library due to "association with ruffians"
- meet up with friends met at the day camp
- get thrown out of numerous establishments
- run from cops for the first time in Keeferson's life
- vows to never get into that kind of trouble again... inside of Toronto
- get calls from Siu Keuwn at home removing the last three days of Keeferson's time at home from his personal availability
- spend an hour trying to figure out how Siu Keuwn convinced him to do that to begin with
- get laughed at by mother
- go to bed

The two days following were spent mostly talking with the Canadian Ministry with a group of young people about their experiences outside of Canada. The majority of the underage magicians were people he'd never met previously. Three of them, however, were very familiar indeed: Vik Mournblade, Siu Keuwn Sung, and Qianxiao Lui. He spend most of the time with his hood over his head, not wanting to attract undue attention to himself because of his eyes. However, Qianxiao made sure all the young women there knew that Keeferson was "off-limits on pain of a beatdown."

Keeferson swore on his life that he'd never understand women. Vik reminded the would-be mahogany monolith that his father didn't understand them either, and he was pretty smart. One of the young women in the class, one Maykayla Farsyne, told the pair they were "merely boys" and therefore "never supposed to understand women." For once, they just agreed and said nothing. Maykayla was highly pleased her superior age had cowed the duo into silence. Sadly, she didn't realize Vik and Keeferson were far more interested in what Siu Keuwn was talking about to actually come up with a rebuttal.

On the tenth day, Keeferson, Vik, and numerous others were invited to an impromptu day camp on, of all things, dueling. Keeferson, remembering what Professor Snape had told him, declined all offers to participate actively. Instead, he practiced the basics on his own, observing the other students. Vik, not having such restrictions, chose to try his luck on one of the dummies while an older student was watching. It was here where things went horribly wrong. Vik used a spell that someone of his age wasn't supposed to know, let alone have the ability to cast. (Vik's father Siawn had shown Keeferson and Vik the spell before Keeferson had left for Hogwarts the first time. Technically, Keeferson shouldn't have known it either.) The student then sought to challenge Vik to a duel.

Vik accepted.

Vik won.

Vik spent thirty minutes having to duel his way through seven other students before they would leave him alone.

It was only when Keeferson's looming presence was felt behind him that the other students chose to back off. Though Keeferson's wand wasn't out, the gloves that had the strange Chinese symbols on it were on. (The symbols actually read: "food is great" and "long live the wok.") They hoped they would never have to run across any of those students again from that particular day camp. A few years later, the duo would realize just how long people's memory was.

The three days before Keeferson's return were spent with Siu Keuwn and her family. Vik had been invited, but had to turn down the offer. He had chosen to spend some time with a school friend of his from the magical academy he had been sent to in Kanata. (It also happened to be the largest inside of Canada outside of Quebec.) Siu Keuwn and Qianxiao had also been sent away to a sorcerous school, but theirs was integrated into Toledo, Washington. For the next three days, Keeferson was introduced into magical Chinatown - which had completely different rules from Diagon Alley... or Knockturn Alley for that matter. (Years later, Keeferson would find himself at "the Glass Palace" Pacific Mall inside of Markham, Ontario, and feel déjà vu.) He learned along side many of the same people Siu Keuwn called "cousins" the week previous about the differences in the way the East looked at magic, versus the Western world. It was during these three days that Keeferson gained a better impression of how wizards and witches, warlocks and sorcerers truly lived.

Siu Keuwn was happy that he could understand at least every other word. Qianxiao was annoyed that some of the other girls were looking at him. The Canadian Ministry was aggrieved they hadn't been told of such a thing previously. Keeferson's mother was pleased he didn't get himself into a single fight for three whole days. Keeferson himself made sure to bring back some potions ingredients for Professor Snape, in case he didn't get a lot of these samples sent to him.

On his last day, Keeferson spent most of it with his extended family. Knowing he was not going to see them for a while, he made it a point not to act up or start any trouble. Most of his family was impressed at his increased maturity. Even the family matriarch had noticed the changes in Keeferson. Chalking it up his good upbringing none thought to question his real motivation. This was good, as he wouldn't have had a suitable answer for them. All he could think of was how he was surrendering all of this to memory as of the next day.

The moment Keeferson set foot on Hogwarts soil, he found himself longing for home again. Still, he had gone through his final "briefing" with the Canadian Ministry members before he had grabbed the portkey. Being ushered back by members of the British Ministry, he was reminded of how far away from home he truly was. And with this in mind, the Keeferson most Hogwarts students knew had returned in full force.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: this takes place during Keeferson's third year at Hogwarts. more than likely this would have occured during the winter months - something like January or February. Keeferson by the time of Fourth Year would know the first initial of the person who sent him the book as well as their gender. he determined that from their style of handwriting. at least, he HOPES it's a woman...)


Confirming The Customer's Contentment
(Ares Richard Keeferson - age 13, Third Year at Hogwarts)


Liam Creidhne was in a word, upset. Not that "upset" that has babies wailing for their mothers. Not the sort of "upset" where someone scored the winning goal against his favourite football team. (He hated Manchester United fans so much as a child, he swore he would support Manchester City until his dying day.) Not even the kind of upset where people started throwing bottles at police cars, filling them with gravel and grease. This was the sort of upset that had you pacing the halls late at night, wondering where you had managed to go wrong.

The main reason for this was one of his good friends had told him that something had gone wrong with an acquisition, and they lost it to a rival crew. This he knew from a week before. What was bothering him was that the person above him in the "organization" he was a part of had not once mentioned it. Normally, failure meant severe reprimands and occasionally the "repatriation" of a team. This had happened to Liam and his friends thrice before, which was why they were inside of London now. Still, he hadn't heard anything from the person who was his personal contact.

Looking gift horses in the mouth was a dangerous business, but that was where the traps were normally left behind.

Instead of asking the contact directly, Liam allowed Scathach MacNessa and Tiernan Leekstone, two members of his personal team of "lifters" to try to find out what happened through more subtle means. Of course, calling Scathach and Tiernan "social butterflies" was a stretch of anyone's imagination." They were, however, rather adept in getting answers from people none would give them credit for knowing. They had been out for two days, hunting down clues (as well as a few other smaller items on the "shopping list," returning at last from their separate jaunts. The answer each of them had for Liam made him go pale and then see red: Liam's contact had hired -three- teams to go after that one book.

He had wanted to hunt down the person whom he went through for most things and give them a piece of his mind, but that wasn't a wise way to go about things. Aeronwy was the one who finally came up with an idea of checking whom inside of the usual suspects got a job for translating it. After all, finding people inside of magical London who spoke fluent Chinese wasn't as common as people would expect. Then when you narrowed it down to those whom would touch slightly sketchy jobs, it became a little easier to determine who the most likely people on the task were. When they came up with nothing after a few more days, Liam left the entire thought of the job for dead in his mind, to be resurrected at a later date.

Inside of Hogwarts, Ares Richard Keeferson received a strange book via a peregrine falcon with bronze-tipped feathers. Unwrapping it carefully, he made sure to not open it up after reading was on the parchment which covered it. A few years of dealing with minor curses inflicts its own kind of paranoia on a person. Using the standard trilogy of curse-finding spells from a book purchased for him by Sinn're the year previously, Keeferson made certain to place the book in a cold iron box for a day before actively looking at it. Reading through the letter sent along with the book, he was confused and definitely a little worried. This wasn't sent through Liam or even Talaitha. The fact anyone knew whom he was outside of them was bad enough. The insistence on the "job" being done within a week made it worse. Still, it was modern Chinese on the book, so he figured it would be modern Chinese -in- the book.

The next few days, Keeferson went through his usual regimen of translations, calculations, classes, arguments, and eating. Though he had not been eating as much as normal (for him), he was no longer subconsciously starving himself. Shacadia had seen to that, as well as Druppi and Matt. Between the trio, he hadn't spent time alone within the Great Hall during any meal periods. Still, he had made sure to excuse himself as quickly as possible, doing a lot of his "work" in some of the abandoned classrooms on the fifth and seventh floors of the castle. In order not to draw too much attention to himself, he even came in on time for curfew if not a few minutes earlier. This kept the prefects off his back and therefore out of his business. His final day of translations was a day ahead of schedule, so he made sure to go through his work a second time. Sending it back out to the destination on the original parchment, he hoped that nothing would go wrong.

* * * * *

Inside of a bachelor's flat in muggle Leeds, a rich female voice laughed lowly to herself. For once, she had gotten one over that arrogant Irishman, Liam. He had been having it a little too good, what with his fortune in creating a crew and finding a foreign languages translator. Now that she knew Liam's little secret due to some investigation, she was going to use it to her advantage. Who would have thought Liam "the Leaner" Creidhne would have located a Hogwarts student talented enough to speak Chinese and reckless enough to trust -him- of all people? Oh, and now this little diamond in the rough was hers to access as well. She had thought she recognized the robes the first two times she had seen the youth. Always hiding his face and his hands, speaking in an accent that wasn't his but couldn't be proven. Quite the little criminal in some ways, was this Keeferson.

She'd have to thank her cousin Karenza Norrington in Slytherin later.

Perri Wurring, born Periangela Wothringsound, was pleased. For a little girl from Brixton and shipped off to Beauxbatons, she'd been doing pretty damned good for herself. And thanks to Liam discovering this Keeferson kid, she was about to do a heck of a lot better...

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: This is to explain part of the whole "Slytherin is good" mentality he has. As well, this is for people whom have been wondering whom all these random Slytherin NPCs are. These are four of them - the ones who have been in-character been some of the reason Keeferson doesn't look completely threadbare. Of course, you know the other in-game characters - some of those reading this may be playing them.)


More Senior Than You Think
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age eleven, First Year at Hogwarts)



Ares Richard Keeferson was in a familiar situation for himself: three Ravenclaw students in their third year had him pinned down in one of the hallways. His only methods of possible escape would be jumping through a window, jumping through a stained glass window, or charging through the trio. As flight was not one of the spells he knew how to cast at the time, both of the window options were out of the question. Checking his surroundings, he was hoping there was a cabinet he could knock over or a rope binding he could set on fire to send a chandelier crashing down on their heads. To the Ravenclaw students, this was sport. To Keeferson, this was survival.

What happened next would be firmly burned within Keeferson’s brain. The three boys were taken out from behind by numerous cries of spells the young Canadian was only getting used to hearing about. When he actually looked from his vantage point, he noticed there were four Slytherin girls standing there with wands still at the ready, now pointed directly at –him-.

“You may as well come out. You are outmatched, outgunned, outclassed… and we are just better looking than you are. If you don’t, I might get annoyed and try out a few variants of `Incendio’ on those robes of yours, kid…”

It was at “kid” that Keeferson decided to stand up and show himself. After all, if he was going to die horribly, he was not going to die without seeing it coming. That, and he was absolutely certain that he was taller than the girls that had just called him “kid.” If there was anything he hated, it was diminutives launched in his general direction. Keeferson had been tall for most of his natural life, and there wasn’t any way he was going to allow anyone to make him feel small if he could help it.

The gasp from one of the four Slytherin dames spoke volumes. At 5’6”, Keeferson was one of the tallest in his year… and the next one. In fact, he was almost dead on in his previous guess: he was taller than three of the four girls. The fourth one, oddly enough, was the one whom had squeaked. She was hiding partially behind the shortest of the four young women – whom he figured was the leader. Out of the quartet, each of them seemed to have their place: the gawky geek, the mysterious beauty, the brash tomboy, and the magnetic leader. One could easily tell who called the shots in that particular crowd. However, that was about as far as it went. Being that they were from Slytherin, one couldn’t guess on their intelligence or their physical prowess. Slytherins were known for hiding their true potential from others – even and especially other members of Slytherin.

“I… am not a kid.”

“Firsty.”

This, of course, was the leader of the foursome whom still had their wands out at Keeferson. At this time, though, Keeferson wasn’t paying them any attention. In fact, to him it was as if they had never shown themselves to him. The towering Hufflepuff delinquent hadn’t dropped his wand, but was far more focused on the three Ravenclaw boys sleeping peacefully on the floor.

“Oy! Up here! The conversation is up here!”

This got Keeferson’s attention. As he looked up, his hood mirrored the direction of his shoulders. Giving the much shorter Slytherin his undivided attention, he leaned back in a stance. This was not to show off or to show arrogance, but to remind the four young women that he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. He took note of the dark blue eyes, bordering on falling into midnight. Not exactly a normal occurrence, but the entire school was built on the unnatural (as far as Keeferson was concerned). She had three shocks of pure white hair braided into the rest of her flaxen locks. She was also the one twirling her wand as if exercising. This one, the young man thought, was the duelist amongst them.

“Look, kid. I don’t know your name, but I never liked those boys to begin with. So essentially, I did you a favour AND you gave me an opening. Meaning to me, that you owe me. And if I’m not mistake, you could be only one of four freakishly tall Hufflepuff boys whom I don’t have in any of my classes or don’t know already. Yes, before you even open your mouth, just admit to yourself that –I am that good- and you’ll be just fine. Secondly, you’re not dumb enough to try using spells to get yourself out of this jam because you know you’re already crushed. I like that in a minion.”

“A what?!?”

The tallest girl leaned slightly in Keeferson’s direction at that moment, a completely different look on her face. Her ringlets were a deep brown, similar to topsoil but streaked with a jet black. Her eyes were witch hazel, and even with the glasses on they had a slightly glazed look. Keeferson had seen this type of person before: the devout follower. This was about as close as you could get to a zealot under the age of nineteen in a regular school environment. If Keeferson tried to attack the short girl, that tall one would be the first to stand in the way. And despite the fact the Canadian was used to fighting just about anything that walked on two legs, he was still loathe to hit a girl. The stigma behind it was strong within him. That, and the young woman had a very sad look to her. Of course, it could have been contrived. Slytherins, from what he had been told and seen thus far (except for Randell Coffey, Liara Amakiir and Necrolissica Crest) were notorious for hiding behind false emotions.

“A minion. But before you can become a minion, there are a few tests you have to pass. Along with that, I’m going to need your name, your flat number, and your soul.”

“My –what?!?-"

The older Slytherin girl’s laughter pealed through the hall. The young woman that Keeferson had identified as “the brash tomboy” skipped over the bodies of the still slumbering Ravenclaw boys, hitching her arm with the quite bewildered first year Hufflepuff. Unlike her three comrades, her skin was a beautiful olive complexion. Jade green eyed kept close watch on how Keeferson’s body moved – or didn’t in his current state. One could tell she was athletic by the way she moved – perhaps dance or gymnastics. Maybe, as Keeferson’s mind wandered, into a martial art. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than the tallest of the four, closing in on the shade of polished cedar. Wagging a finger at Keeferson as if to say “tsk tsk,” she ushered him over to the other three young women.

The “mysterious beauty” took Keeferson by his other arm, not smiling at all. Whereas the sporty one was filled with life, this one seemed filled with purpose. Every movement she made was instinctive and yet an act. Out of the four, this one was the damsel who Keeferson knew loved control. Her hair was in a French braid down to the small of her back. Not a single hair was out of place, and every three crosses there was a small flower embedded. Her hair itself was black with velvety lavender highlights – apparently natural. (Unless, of course, one was willing to put that much time in doing their eyebrows in the same colour.)

The tallest of the four young women brought up the rear, while the leader gently extracted Keeferson’s wand from his fingers – still wearing his usual blood red dragonhide leather gloves. Finding a conveniently empty classroom, the four young women herded the robed recluse away from the hallway and out of sight from possible prefect intervention.

“Sit.”

“I’m not a dog, and I prefer to stand. Secondly, I don’t know whom the heck you all are, and I want my wand back. Most importantly, why are the lot of you even trying to help me to begin with. I’ve boxed the ears AND the faces of some of your House, so this whole business of how I owe you something is a little too convenient for me to believe.”

“You know,” began the young woman at his left, “there’s a lot you don’t know about social graces. Heck, there’s a lot you don’t know and seemingly refuse to learn about how to act around your betters. And before you start getting all chaotic on me, I don’t mean better by blood. I mean better by deed. Being a Muggle-born, I can understand your unwillingness to accept the whole `divine right’ thing. Any money says with a mouth like yours, you’re Roman Catholic… aren’t you, Keeferson?”

The young man went perfectly still. Up until this point, he was certain they didn’t even know his name. Of course, one of the Ravenclaw boys he had been fighting with may have called him out by name. He wasn’t sure. However, this proved they had an advantage over him: they knew exactly who he was. He sat down at last, the fight leaving his body for a smoldering rage. There was no way he was going to get out of this spot using brute strength alone. He had to think his way out of this one. At least that was his plan, up until the supposed tomboy bounced onto his lap and lounged against him as if he was a chaise. Sputtering in shock and outrage, he attempted to flail his arms in surprise. That obviously failed, as she smiled up into his hood.

“Hey, Cherise! You should try this! He’s really comfortable, even better than the cushions in the Slytherin Common room. And he’s able to be posed like a Muggle action figure. I’m telling you, every Slytherin girl should have their own live Hufflepuff walking pillow as their very own.”

“I’m not a bloody pillow!”

“Lies.” The verdict was in. Keeferson was now a pillow – at least in the eyes of the Slytherin occupying his lap. The youth wasn’t very good with people to begin with. The fact there was this older girl in his lap just LEANING into him would have caused him to turn numerous shades of red if his skin had been any paler. Of course, the fact he had on the hood and gloves saved him from further embarrassment. The tallest of the four girls, however, squeaked again slightly and blushed. She must have been Cherise, given the way she was looking between Keeferson, the Slytherin in his lap, and the girl whom had done most of the talking up until this moment.

“You do realize, Hamiyet, eventually you’ll need to get out of his lap. I don’t think that Laurier would appreciate his girlfriend using another man as a sleeping device – even if he’s only in first year. As well, Cherise, you really need to get over your phobia of men. They aren’t all worthless, out to get you, lying pieces of garbage whom are better used as target practice, Headmaster Dumbledore, or Head of House Snape. Some of them are actually worth keeping around and not throwing things at. Though he’s big enough you could probably hurl a desk at him and he’d just bat it out of the air with those big hands of his and…”

“Hey! I’m right here, you know.”

“And until you actually introduce yourself properly, you’re going to be treated as an object. I like the idea of a full line of Huffie pillows. Get a Seril body pillow, and a Patrick torso pillow, and maybe even a-“

“GAH! Going blind!”

The four Slytherin women burst out laughing, having successfully broken the young man’s mind. Keeferson’s wand someone slid back into his fingers as the young woman who must have been Hamiyet slid out from Keeferson’s lap, still giggling maniacally. Cherise smiled shyly and went over to the leader of the four, massaging her shoulders. Hamiyet and the other young lady sat on desks, flanking Keeferson completely. When the ivory-blonde spoke once again, she was all business.

“So, now you’ve met my friends. The girl who could kick your keister, Keeferson, is Hamiyet Karadeniz. The Slytherin with the perfect French braid is my partner in crime for most things involving Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, Noémie Bailleul. The overprotective snippet massaging my shoulders is Cherise D’angelnuit. And I’m Sinn're Alarcsein. Yes, we were all supposed to go to Beauxbatons, but our parents already put all of our older sisters through there. It’s pretty much our claim to fame. That… and sucking miserably in Potions. And that, little boy Keeferson, is where you come in.”

Sinn’re (as was apparently her name) was giving the single boy in the abandoned classroom an appraising look. The dour foreign student had heard of Cherise previously, but only in passing. Apparently she had managed to turn what was to be a basic salve experiment into a magical version of naphtha. It had been the talk of numerous first year Slytherin for the past week. Normally, Keeferson would not have cared about anything other students were saying, but it had involved Potions (one of his favourite classes). The other three Slytherin girls, the young man had never encountered previously. This fact wasn’t lost on him, as he sat there waiting for what Sinn’re had to say next.

“You are probably wondering where I would have heard of you. It’s simple really: I saw your test scores on Snapey’s desk when I was serving detention. Your extra essays are the wet dreams of Potions Masters everywhere. The fact you did it because Professor Snape –suggested- students whom were serious about Potions should look up a few dead guys from Japan is nothing sort of super-geek. You need an outlet for all that pent up nerd energy, and I need…”

At this, Sinn’re paused. Looking at her three friends, she nodded to herself and continued. “… and –WE- need better marks. So here’s the deal: we keep you alive and out of whatever trouble we see you in, and in turn you do as we say when it comes to schoolwork. I promise I won’t be that harsh of a taskmaster. I’ll even go as far as to write big so you’ll be able to correct my spelling better.”

“And if I refuse, what then? You’ll just be more people I’ll be fighting in the halls when the prefects aren’t around… as usual.”

“No. I’ll put it up in the hallways, in the bathrooms, and everywhere inside of Slytherin that you are just a big, cuddly snugglepuss. That, and I’ll put a sticker on your butt reading `Property of Slytherin Women: Past, Present, And Future.’ And I don’t mean on the butt of your robes either, Mr Tall-And-Dark-And-Grim-With-No-First-Name. If you think you have it bad now, wait until you have hordes of girls of all ages screaming your name like you were a member of The Weird Sisters.”

“The who?”

“You’ll learn. Just submit to our female superiority and be done with it. You know you want to. That… and we have cookies. Lots of cookies.”

“Cookies are tempting…”

* * * * *

Later on in that month, Keeferson started checking to see if they had put a sticker on his behind anyway. Sure, he had gone along with their plan – mainly as he saw no better options out. However, he started noticing that a lot of the Slytherin girls in the older years had started treating him with a little more respect. He figured out why after the first one cornered him in the library, quietly demanding that the first year Hufflepuff look over her Arithmancy notes. Given that Keeferson had never taken Arithmancy previously, he was a little reluctant. A gentle tap on the temple with a wand and the placement of four silver coins on the book he was reading helped him lose that fear. Taking out three Arithmancy books, he started working on the revisions. He didn’t notice the small lineup of Slytherins waiting on him until thirty minutes later – each of them with coin and homework in hand.

Three months later, seeing the first year Hufflepuff talking quietly with Third, Fourth, and even Sixth Year Slytherin women wasn’t that uncommon. Rumours started to spread about how he must be secretly seeing one or two of them – or the youngest sisters thereof. The truth was far less glamorous: he was now known in certain circles as the “go to guy” for Potions homework. He could spot a misprint at thirty meters, and a miscalculation merely by touching a parchment along the edges. Thanks to his “indentured servitude,” his own knowledge in Potions skyrocketed to a point that Professor Snape deemed him “more than adequate… unlike most of your year.” This didn’t make him any new friends, to be certain, but at least he was making enough by this point to fund the beginnings of his old book habit.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: yes, this is more Slytherin dame abusing Keeferson goodness. 'nuff 'sed.)


Enjoy Collecting Loyalty Points
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age 12, Second Year at Hogwarts)



There are some people that you know no matter what you do, you’ll never get one over on them. Some times, you’ll keep trying to keep challenging yourself. Other times, you’ll just give up seeing as there is no use for it. In the case of Ares Richard Keeferson, one of those people is Ériu O'Challagne. He met her during a jaunt to Diagon Alley to pick up a few things, and he regretted ever learning how to speak the English language for a full week.

Unlike Sinn're Alarcsein, Ériu was by no means predictable. The first time they crossed swords, she insisted he was trying to mug her. Instead of even attempting discuss the situation, he ducked into Knockturn Alley for the rest of the day. Not exactly a waste for him, considering the interesting odds and ends he purchased. (However, that’s another story entirely.) Being distinctly taller and more fearsome in appearance (especially with his ever-present hood on), he had believed to remain would have been asking for trouble in a way he couldn’t handle. “Couldn’t handle” meaning “can’t avoid death/ can’t avoid killing others.”

The second time they met, she was busy sprinting away from a group of Ravenclaw boys whose hair colour she had changed… to bright pink. Narrowly dodging Keeferson, her single act was to fire a spell into the small of his back, causing him to stumble into the path of her pursuers, knocking them down completely. As the four Ravenclaw youths turned their ire onto him, a prefect showed up – being led by Ériu herself – about a fight supposedly in progress. The week long detention Keeferson served burned in his veins. He had managed to remain unscathed considering, as all he had to do was muck out the Owlery twice per day for a full week. The Ravenclaw students got to spend “quality time” cleaning the cauldrons in the main Potions classroom.

The third instance was inside of the Charms classroom while Professor Flitwick was doing a demonstration on the Patronus spell. Keeferson had only showed up to get some research material for an essay he was writing for Flitwick’s class at the time. Ériu, however, was one of the Fourth Year students attempting to learn the spell itself. The fact she was able to successfully conjure one the moment Keeferson stepped into the class was omen enough for her: Ériu had to make it a point to permanently sear her name into Keeferson’s mind. Her Patronus’ form was of all things a Réunion Kestrel – strange, because this bird is completely extinct. What made it stranger was that it immediately flew off from her casting… and onto Keeferson’s shoulder, pecking at him lightly until he paid attention to it. Flitwick found the entire thing most entertaining, though unusual. Keeferson thought it another good reason to hate her.

Ériu learned a little more about Keeferson while listening in on a conversation he was having with Professor Snape about extra homework he had been given. Making sure not to be caught, the young Slytherin learned quite a few things about Keeferson, including his full name and the fact that he truly was banned from dueling within Hogwarts for his first two years of classes – bare minimum. This was far too good to be true. The young Hufflepuff had been creating a name for himself by getting into fights with his fists alone, and only using spells on his environment. Now Ériu knew the reason why this was.

The Slytherin damsel had a few other friends in different Houses whom she loved to gossip with – a few in Ravenclaw, a couple more in Gryffindor. There were none inside of Hufflepuff, due to a disagreement between herself and a few young women of that House back in Ériu’s first year at Hogwarts. Still, information such as what she had was not to be shared lightly even with friends. As well, she had started seeing a few of the notices within the bathrooms whenever Filch hadn’t removed them: “for a good grade, harass Keeferson for Potions.” There was her “in.” She had never been an avid student of Potions or of Arithmancy, and here was Providence just hurling her a red carpet to walk on.

So, walk on it she did.

Within the next month, Ériu started a campaign of annoyance specifically to drive Keeferson completely mental. In some ways, she succeeded. He found himself dodging prefects, spells, AND numerous members of his own House on a regular basis. Sinn’re knew what was going on, but had been asked (read: bribed heavily) by Ériu and two of Ériu’s friends to pretend ignorance. By the time the campaign was over, Keeferson had bought duct tape, marbles, and three worn pairs of dragonskin gloves to literally beat the daylights out of Ériu and just about anyone associated with her. This plot was foiled when Sinn’re took Keeferson aside and explained to him that killing Ériu would be very difficult at best, and would earn him more trouble than she was worth. That, and Ériu was one of the fastest sprinters in her year – bar none.

He still tried, anyway. It didn’t work out too well, mainly as Ériu had been working on her savaté for that entire month. Not only did he not land a single shot, she spent most of the time teasing him about his "hot crossed buns." It was the first time Ériu had ever used her martial arts training seriously on a boy that she didn't actually hate or was sparring with. It was also the first time Ériu successfully flipped someone larger than her directly onto the back of their head.

Madame Pomfrey was unimpressed when Ériu and her friends dragged the unconscious behemoth up to the Infirmary. The fact he should have received a concussion strong enough to lose memory was bad, but the fact he didn't wake up for a full day gave the young lady something to worry about. (As it turns out, Keeferson was overly tired from putting in late hours doing revisions to homework of various Slytherin students for a full week. He was due to crash out in that fashion anyway.) When he awoke, the first thing he felt was a weight upon his chest. The next thing was a punch to the arm as Ériu started screaming about how rude of a person Keeferson was, scaring her like that.

Keeferson will never understand women.

Ériu made it a point to be "nicer" to Keeferson from that day forward. Of course, her version of being nice is not quite what most people would view as being polite in the least. She has purposely spread rumours about Keeferson concerning the following situations:
- his dating situation
- the amount of girls that actually like him
- exactly how much Professor Snape favours him over other students
- the number of death threats he has issued in a single day
- his connection to the Death Eaters
- the fact he's related to a veela, a vampire, and a voydanoi... at the same time

Since that time, Keeferson has managed to almost be caught in a duel with students from other schools at least seven times directly due to Ériu's machinations. He has also found himself thrown out of a bookstore, thrown -into- a lingerie salon, and simply thrown against a wall by a few angry Ravenclaw girls who swore on their lives they saw a dark-robed student his exact physical build leaving their Commons late at night with their homework. (This, of course, was patently untrue. The homework was Divinations - which automatically disqualified the disgruntled Canadian - and the perpetrator was actually one of the tallest girls in the school, who was a Slytherin.)

The young Hufflepuff's life from the moment he has met Ériu, if nothing else, has never been boring. Ériu's making sure of it. After all, if you can't annoy a boy twice your weight, who can you annoy? As well, since Keeferson's already been "tagged" as being Slytherin property, she's made it a point to show up at inopportune times (for him at least). One of these days, she's determined to see what is underneath the "Demon Badger's" hood. She's heard rumour that at least three Slytherin girls know the truth about him: Necrolissica Crest, Liara Amakiir, and Shacadia Shay. Though rather than talk with them, she'll find out the old fashioned way: blackmail, bribery, and bravado.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: this takes place before his fourth year at Hogwarts officially started)


The Work of the Wicked Never Ceases
(Ares Richard Keeferson, age 13... and turning 14)


In an office within the North American Ministry of Magic, Canadian Division (normally referred to as the Canadian Ministry of Magic), a conversation was taking place. Given that the topic of conversation was nowhere to be found, one could expect that whatever was taking place couldn't be very positive or entertaining.

Well, at least one of those assumptions would be correct...

"So then, you are approving of using this... -child-... as a ferrying device, if nothing else?"

"But of course. Our contacts have noticed that his behaviours and normal modus operandus leans heavily towards the kinds of things that we need for the Andvarinaut* Project. Given that it is his fourth year at that school for sorcerous youth, he would be out and about picking up items for his studies anyway."

"Still, I am not too certain about this."

"Not certain about what? We have at least ten Canadian students at that school to begin with. It is not as if they are going to care if one of them makes a few extra purchases on the side and sends them home."

"And what if the British Ministry has something to say about it?"

"They will not, even if he is caught making some of the purchases. It is not as if they are entirely illegal, merely questionable. Since the boy -is- taking courses with that... person they call a Potions Master, Severus Snape, it is not as if questionable ingredients will be entirely foreign if he states they are for his classes."

"Fine, that takes care of those in the judicial authority. However, that will not wash with the actual staff at his school. You know that as well as I do. Furthermore, lying to Professor Severus Snape-"

The older man audibly scowled at the younger one. Obviously the two were senior and junior in whatever department they were part of. Secondly, the older man slapped his hands down on the desk before him and rose out of his seat slightly.

"You call that man a professor in my hearing again, I'll set you to such tasks you'll wish you were back at that backwater school Siawn Mournblade sent his son. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir. Perfectly, Sir."

"Good."

The older man sat back down again. Of course, he had no intention of sending this or any of his handpicked subordinates back to "high school" for something as light as this. However, it did none of them any good to live without fear of "The Sentinel of Sudbury." Fear was a good way to keep the mind sharp and the limbs motivated, as far as the older man was concerned. His family for generations had been military in one form or another - if not in the Canadian Ministry, then in the Canadian Armed Forces. At least three members from every generation found themselves employed through the defense of their home and native land. He was no different, except for that he used more subtle methods than his sister and his cousin.

"Now then, as I was saying... Masking the intention of the ingredients gathering is only going to be for the regular people on the street. For his actual school, I have already prepared a document detailing the lad's `scavenger hunt.' As we have made sure to keep him occupied with studies as best we can during the month he spent at home here in Canada, there isn't much any of them can say about it."

"Sir, who do you mean by `any of them?' Are you referring to the professors at Hogwarts and their Headmaster?"

"Of course I am. Most people seem to think that Albus Dumbledore is something akin to a demigod when it comes to magic. He is only human. The same thing goes for Minerva McGonagall, their Deputy Headmistress. They have their faults and flaws, their doubts and demeanors. In the end, they won't think to question too deeply about the list. After all, it is official tender."

"And this has all been approved by those in the know, Sir?"

"Of course it has. Half of it isn't even for the Andvarinaut Project. It is for Operation Versailles. And to think, I know perfectly well that they are going to use the kid to acquire more of the raw materials they need - figuring it will be cheaper to have some young punk do all their leg work for them. Considering the smaller quantities required for both of these things, it isn't surprising.

"Most of these things we are looking for are going to be raw materials which are just obnoxious to send through the `proper channels.' Private citizens in this regard tend to have a little more leeway. As a minor, none will suspect the whelp of having anything more than an obsession with strange materials and obscure objects not found easily in Canada. I fully intend on giving him a second list while he is still inside of his home city to acquire a few more things for this office. Most of these kids nowadays don't know what it means to work, to sacrifice for their goals. It's about time that some of them got that beaten back into them the old fashioned way."

"But Sir... why -are- we using Ares Richard Keeferson as the medium? Why not one of the other students currently at Hogwarts?"

"There are three main reasons, actually. First and foremost, because we are sponsoring him. I don't know where he gets the rest of his money from while he is there, and I don't really care. As long as it doesn't officially reflect upon anyone here, he could be selling himself on the streets of Diagon Alley as a interpreter for Canadian English to British English. The best part of being a member of this branch is the ability to disassociate yourself from anything you want while still demanding results.

"The second reason? Availability. Unlike us, the boy is young and free to waste his time however he wants. I know about that `illness' of his, and the staff of Hogwarts are supposed to be looking into it. So as long as he does not get himself thrown out, he has nothing -but- time to look into our little `grocery list' of Class B semi-restricted items. And as a private citizen, he is free to take with him as much as he can carry, as long as he does not use them to create anything `deadly to persons or harmful to beings.' As all he'll be doing is dropping them off in this office and leaving, his intentions will pass customs and he'll be just fine.

"One of the best things about using the young and stupid is that they are just that: -young- and -stupid.- Even if he could figure out what some of the ingredients might be for, it is doubtful he would do anything about it. They have insane beliefs about their own mortality and how `special' they are. If they only knew about what the real world was like earlier in life, they might be more willing to serve their country faithfully and without so many blasted questions.

"And the third reason for using this one lone student? It is the best one of all: -because we can.-"

"Ah, I see now Sir."

"I'm glad that you do. Now then, get that list finished up, scribed properly, and stamped. I'll sign and seal it myself. Oh, and one other thing..."

"This conversation never happened, Sir?"

"I'm glad you see things the proper way."



________________

* - taken from Norse mythology, it is the name of a ring that corrupted the man known as Fafnir who turned into a ferocious beast

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: set during his Fourth Year, on one of his jaunts home. This all takes place between two trips home. What is occuring here is the second part. The general public in Hogwarts would never hear about what happened originally unless they had friends whom lived in Canada that were part of the wizarding community.)


And Nobody Gives A **** About…
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 14, Fourth Year at Hogwarts>


Plink. Plink. Plink.

The coins falling from the young man’s hands hit the water underneath the rim. Sure, people were not supposed to throw copper coins into the fish tank from twenty feet away, but it was not as if he was worried. First and foremost, there were no fish in the tank. Secondly, he knew what was going to happen to that fish tank in exactly three days, two hours, and ten minutes. Most importantly… he just didn’t care. Apathy was the great equalizer when it came to spending time inside of an office. Looking at the austere walls of the Contaminations and Calamities Division of the Canadian Ministry, the young man looked at the other people within the room and sighed.

Vik Mournblade had to be the youngest of the seven people sitting down in the old office chairs. Being that he was also listed as being the most talented, this gave him special recognition. As well, he was the first one to learn the truth about his best friend’s illness. Not that he ever spoke of it, of course. That was mainly between his friend, himself, and those his friend chose to trust with such information. Given the fact Vik had his own trouble to deal with, his skill with sorcery came in handy more often than not. Vik also happened to be the shorted person there, along with the person beside him. It only ever became an issue when he couldn’t use magic to get things off the top shelf.

Holding his hand lightly was his girlfriend, Regina Pasoregi. Regina, or “Gigi” as she was called by her friends, had met Vik during a wizarding tournament. They had gone head to head in half of the events, managing to develop a rivalry which had lasted two years. Whenever they encountered each others, sparks flew – literally. (Not to mention streaks of fire, a few pencils, and there had been rumour of a Panasonic cordless telephone base.) Somehow, fate had conspired to bring them together. And now, despite their rival schools, they were virtually inseparable. She, along with two others in the room, all went to one of the largest magic schools in North America, situated fairly close to Seattle, Washington. It was there were Regina had gotten her first taste of magical dueling, and she had never looked back.

The third member of this roster of rabble was Darlington Mikhail Vostenzyk. Better known by his initials of “D.M.V.,” he was one of Vik’s main detractors within the dueling circuit they both were a part of. Darlington was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth, despite the name. He had been adopted into the Vostenzyk family around the age of six to give the other seven children (the eldest daughter also adopted) someone “to be responsible for.” At least, that was the reason the children were given. Darlington’s birth parents, however, had actually been killed in an accident three year previous. And their parents had an agreement with Anechka Vostenzyk previously for her to watch over. He was also the second oldest person in the room.

Sitting with her legs crossed on the arm of the couch, Siu Keuwn Sung was busy glaring at the door itself. She had no idea exactly why they were being made to wait. After all, the interviews had already been completed. Of course, the people of the “C&C Mayhem Factory” were the ones who had called these sessions “interviews.” In Siu Keuwn’s mind, they were no less than interrogations. She was familiar with just about everyone in the room with the exception of Darlington. She refused outright to call him “D.M.V.,” and chose to use her own nickname for him: Dar. She had insisted that Darlington reminded her of the show “The Beastmaster,” but refused to go any farther than that in her explanation. This, of course, completely irritated Darlington. This was, as fate would have it, Siu Keuwn’s aim to begin with.

On the actual couch itself (and not the arm of it), Qianxiao Lui was lounging quite comfortably. A little younger than Darlington, she had been summoned around the same time as Siu Keuwn. This wasn’t all that surprising as they went to school together in Seattle. That, and the fact they had been best of friends for years. Unlike Vik and Regina, she had no idea what her involvement with this mess was. She had been out of the country throughout most of the time period the Ministry workers were asking about. The same could easily be said of Siu Keuwn. Qianxiao was taking the entire situation far better than most, however. This was mainly as she knew if things went sour, her family always had a few lawyers on retention for something of this nature. (Having extended family who had married favourably was never a bad thing.) She had spent the better part of the questioning session trading barbs with the interviewers, mainly to get a feel of the people they were under their professional veneers. In the end, Qianxiao had given them nothing of any merit, but had learned quite a bit about the two interviewrs.

Maykayla Farsyne, daughter of Ministry officials Traviata Locortia and Roger Allen Farsyne, was bored. Painfully, terribly, achingly –bored-. She knew exactly why she was here, though she was still trying to gather how it all managed to involve her to begin with. It had all started with that one summer class that some of the people in the room had been involved in. In the winter, she had managed to run across the other set of people. School was supposed to give you contacts with the –right- kind of people, those who would boost your career and enhance your prestige. This would be nothing less than a social nightmare if it ever got out. Of course, with the right wording Maykayla supposed she could still make this entire farce work in her favour. Not a true social climber, Maykayla’s whole goal in life (along with her siblings) was to follow her parents all the way into nice, well-paying, comfortable Canadian Ministry of Magic positions. (Arguably, the entire title of the office was North American Ministry of Magic, Canadian Headquarters and Associates, but even Americans called it the Canadian Ministry of Magic. It simply made more sense that way.)

And the final person in the room, leaning against the corner of the wall and looking out with sunglasses on? Ares Richard Keeferson himself.

Out of the seven, he had been the only one interviewed all three times by himself by all three questioning bodies. The first set of interviews were Siu Keuwn and Qianxiao, Vik and Regina, and finally Darlington and Maykayla. The second set of interviews had been purely individual. For the third set, however, the pairings the Ministry officials wanted had changed remarkably: Siu Keuwn was now to speak alongside Regina, Maykayla was to be interviewed with Vik, and Darlington’s was to sit in with Qianxiao. According to the second set of interviewers, there was supposed to have been an eighth person brought in, but they had been unable to locate them in time. For some reason or another, Keeferson chose not to comment. He did not believe them for a moment, but he was not in a position to even ask the name of the last person who was supposed to be there.

Finally out of coins, Keeferson looked at the aquarium which was devoid of fish. Every one of the coins had landed in a different area of the water, completely without any magical movement. He sighed once, sliding down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. Looking from his vantage point, he could see everyone… as long as they weren’t standing up behind the couch. Looking at his dragonhide gloves, he clenched and unclenched his hands. All this waiting was wearing away at his patience. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t find out the truth. What it was (in Keeferson’s eyes) was figuring out how best to lay the blame. He knew what had transpired, and why he had reacted the way he did. What he couldn’t figure out what why any of the other six people in the office were there – especially Qianxiao, who hadn’t even been in the country.

Eventually, a Ministry official none of them had been familiar with stepped into the office, flanked by two members of the Office of Homeland Sorcery Security. This couldn’t mean anything good in the eyes of all of them. The members of the OHSS all wore something with red and white to identify them. For these two, it was three slim bands on their black gloves. Their robes also had a similar pattern partway up the forearms. Keeferson steeled himself against the corner, right hand spread against the floor to not reach for his wand. His left hand was in the form of a fist, resting against his thigh. His sunglasses (which were, in fact, prescription) slipped slightly, forcing Keeferson to adjust them accordingly.

“Okay then, young people. You will all be required to come with me. You will need to walk in single file, as I do not intend on losing track of any of you. You will be following behind me, and the two members of the Security Branch will be bringing up the rear. And before you ask, I do have an order for you which you will follow. The order shall be from first to last: Vik Mournblade, Maykayla Farsyne, Qianxiao Lui, Darlington Mikhail Vostenzyk, Regina Pasoregi, and Siu Keuwn Sung. Mr. Keeferson, you will be flanked by the two members of the security office. Due to the conditions of your illness, I am certain you understand the reasons for precaution? As well, you will be wearing this brass bracelet while you are traveling through the offices. Another safety precaution, I assure you.”

Keeferson knew exactly what that bracelet was for, but chose not to contest it. As well, he thought having the TWO members of the OHSS walking with him was slightly excessive. Given that half of his spells would not even work on a day like this one, he just couldn’t be bothered to rail against it. Vik and Siu Keuwn looked over at him askance, but all the young mahogany menace did was shake his head. Only Maykayla made any audible signs that something was amiss: her intake of breath couldn’t be missed in the quiet which had followed. The woman who had spoken walked over to Keeferson with the bracelet. She whispered something in his ear as she latched on the bracelet before stepping away:

“This is not to hamper your magical tendencies, but to track them. This way, no matter where you go within this building we will be able to find you. I do hope you understand.”

Keeferson nodded to the woman, letting her get a few paces away before slowly standing up. Joining the now (barely) forming line at the end, Keeferson stretched once – only to receive an elbow in the chest from Siu Keuwn. Before he had a chance to respond, she grinned at him impishly and uttered something in Mandarin under her breath. Keeferson’s brow furrowed at the statement, but he did not give her a reply. Siu Keuwn’s snickering at his facial expression seemed to show his face was all the response she needed.

Going down the hallway, Keeferson took a look at the different possible ambush points within. After his numerous experiences at Hogwarts, he was taking little for granted. Notably enough, the only person who appeared completely relaxed was Darlington. Then again, he was in the middle of the line: people would have to be taken out ahead of time before he was in any real danger (or so the logic went). They wove through the office for about five minutes, only to end up at what looked like the front door of the building itself. This was not the case, as when the doors were opened, they were taken into a meeting room which sat approximately thirty people comfortably, and sixty people cramped together. The members of the OHSS motioned for the youths to go and sit at the front in the chairs labeled for them. They seemed to be the last people to arrive, as there were already another nineteen students from various magical colleges there. All of them had a history with at least two of the latecomers, with one of them having crossed swords with all of the young ladies in a singular week.

Taking their places, the seven looked around them. In all, the students gathered represented a rather interesting cross-section of the magical youth of tomorrow’s Canada. Keeferson felt decidedly out of place here, wanting to get some of his Hogwarts contemporaries to be here in his place. If nothing else, he just did not like the fact the people from the Security Branch were sitting in the back with wands at the ready. For him, it felt like knives being pressed against his back by thieves in the middle of Regent Park. Still, there was not much he or any of the others could do about it at this time. As well, the woman who had led them to the conference room had started speaking again.

“As you may have guessed, this meeting here is in direct response to a series of incidents. These incidents started three weeks ago at one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts conference and competition events if I am not mistaken. From there, some of this `bad blood’ had spread out to at least four other venues. Now then, similar meetings like this one are being done with your American counterparts. I am not certain as to what is being done with the students from China, Japan, and Korea whom were also involved.

“The standard disciplinary measures from what I understand would not work with you all, which is how this all started… and why you are here now. My first thought was to have all of your wands taken from you. It would be the simplest method as well as the most expedient. However, this would not counter the lingering effects of the situation at hand. My next thought was to have you all enter a boot camp for young wizards. It would be similar in the way we train our Aurors and our members of the Office of Homeland Sorcery Security in the beginning. The problem with this was your parents would need to be informed and I am certain at least a few of them would be terrified that their children would be forced to do anything which required effort. So, I have found a solution for all of you: you are all hereby banned from the next three major wizarding events of this year.”

The noises of discontent and shock flew through the crowd. The only one silent was Keeferson, mainly as he was not normally allowed to participate in them anyway. (Scheduling time away from Hogwarts to “play at dueling” was not something that went over well with Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall. Even Keeferson’s own teacher Orlantha Rogerston frowned upon such things normally. Usually it would be summed up with “don’t you do enough of that inside of Hogwarts as it is?”) Vik looked back at Keeferson once, the disappointment written on his face. Keeferson shrugged mouthing “you can make them up later.” Vik nodded and turned back, his expression cold. The loudest protests, as it were, came from Regina. Apparently, she had been looking forward to the Coast-to-Coast-to-Coast Charms Grand Prix two weeks from her birthday. And that would end up being the third event they would all be banned from. It had been a vital part of her scholastic plan for this year, suddenly destroyed because of a group of idiots.

The smug look from the woman’s face showed she believed she chose well. Noting that Keeferson had remained quiet the entire time, she turned on him verbally.

“So then, you think that because you are normally away in a foreign school that none of this applies to you, Mr. Keeferson?”

“It doesn’t actually, miss. First, I am already banned from regular dueling within Hogwarts due to my medical condition until next year. Secondly, I have already –been- banned from at least one-fifth of the events held within Canada because Hogwarts is already entered into a different series of competitions within the United Kingdom. The next issue, of course, is the fact that at least half of the judges from the events I am able to go to are biased against me due to the fact I am not registered as a `Young Adult’ due to my physical stature. Regardless, I am placed in those competitions as often as possible with people on average being two years older than myself. And there was one other thing: nobody in this room started the first, second, third, fifth, or seventh incidents. Those all came about because certain individuals whose names I don’t know but whose faces I can remember quite well were being bullying, cantankerous, lecherous fiends who needed to get dealt with. And I remember even going UP to the counselors at the second event and asking them very politely to do something. What was their response?

“And I quote… `Stop being such a tattle-telling crybaby. Boys will be boys, something you should already know. Just deal with it yourself and stop bothering us with something so insignificant.’ And I do believe I have three witnesses for that. So if you want to savage us for not being target practice, go right on ahead. I don’t expect any better to begin with.”

At that, Keeferson stood up. As he did, the other six students he came with did the same slowly. Within moments, all of the students had risen from their seats. Not a single one made a sound, until Maykayla hummed a “middle-C” as she turned for the door. One at a time, the entire collection of students started making a line for the door, singing the national anthem in both official languages. Keeferson was the last one out of the door, followed (of course) by the members of the OHSS who had been assigned to watch over the students to begin with. The lady was left in the office with only two of her colleagues remaining.

“So then,” one of the young men in dark brown and brass robes began, “that seemed to be an utter failure. I mean, you just let them walk out of here!”

“Oh no, Mr. Littledeer. That little bit of theatrics I let happen. I may have damaged their plans for the year, but I’ve let them walk out with their pride. They might actually learn something from all this. Hopefully, next time they won’t be so blasted vulgar in their methods when it comes to seeking out retribution or justice. To be honest, I was actually expecting Mournblade or that young woman Pasoregi to explode first. Since none of them did, I thought I would use Keeferson. After all, he still believes he has the least to lose out of all of them.”

“You mean,” said the other young man, “you had this planned all along?”

“Of course I did, Mr. Hunting-Phantoms. The whole purpose of this exercise was not to crush them, but to forge them. Though I am not certain why a sick kid would need a dummy bracelet on his wrist for. I mean, Keeferson has some strange blood disease from his records. The way the reports make it sound, he should have just dropped dead some time ago. No matter, as I do not question what head office asks me to do if it isn’t harming anyone in a way they don’t deserve. Besides, his main problem seems to be he needs to change from dropping marshmallows in his hot cocoa to Prozac. Seriously, that kid needs to lighten up.”

Littledeer shrugged once. “As long as everything’s in order, Director. Some of those kids are nothing more than ruffians with magic sticks though. Why not take their wands away? They can live without magic if they aren’t going to live by the rules.”

“Because, Mr. Littledeer, not everyone believes all the rules are fair and just. And the moment we stop asking questions of the world around us, we start dying a little inside. Some questions aren’t meant to get answers, but it doesn’t mean we should just strike down anyone that doesn’t think they got a fair deal. I mean, it sets a precedent. And if that precedent isn’t one society can live with, then they start pushing for changes in one way or another. Oh no, this is the right way to deal with these kids. You get them motivated, and you set them in a collision course with the very thing you want to remove.”

Hunting-Phantoms thought about that for a moment. “Wait, so you are saying you –want- these kids to get into trouble?”

“Actually, yes. It’s better they find trouble now when they are young. Because after they’ve been softened up a bit by life, the Ministry will be able to mold them properly into the citizens and potential Ministry employees Canada will need in its future.”

“That’s sort of coldhearted, isn’t it?”

“Well, better they get hurt now when they bounce back than they get hurt later and they can’t. It’s just how it is, Mr. Hunting-Phantoms. As far as the Ministry is concerned i the end, what matters most is the well-being of wizard society as a whole. If one or two people are injured, then they are injured. It is something that happens regardless of what we want in our lives. If that means I treat all these kids like they were expendable... then so be it. It isn't something I am proud of, but I'll do it if it means saving a dozen lives for one broken leg somewhere along the lines.

"All my friends were about as straight-laced as they came. One person came around casting all crazy-like, and put four of them in the hospital. It was our year’s most infamous delinquent who took the guy out, saving our lives in the process. I never forgot that. And I never forgot the guy who almost killed my friends.”

“But,” asked Littledeer, “what about the delinquent?”

“Oh, that’s my twin brother. You know, the one in the Auror’s Office with the three awards on his desk he tells everyone to stop staring at?”

“Oh…"

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: unlike most of the posts in the R.O.M. section, any player that deals extensively with Keeferson would hear about this incident. This would occur after he left the company of a certain second year student and Shacadia Shay.)


The Escalations Division Is Now In Service
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


Ares Richard Keeferson, for the first time in his unnatural life, was on the verge of hysterical laughter. Not because he has been caught stealing something. Oh no, this situation was far worse than that. It was also not due to the full moon of the previous evening. Celestial bodies could not account for such a change in his life. This, if nothing else, could he -almost- blame on one Nikolai Faust, but there was no possible way that Nik's trickster machinations could affect him this far out.

Ares Richard Keeferson told himself once that he would never be caught dead in pink. Well, he wasn't exactly dead... and the suit jacket wasn't exactly pink. Someone in the clothing shop had decided to pull a fast one, and transform the suit jacket Keeferson was trying on into a glorious amaranth. The pants were still the basic midnight black, and the shirt a most charming cream tint. However, the jacket was clearly...

"Aramanth cerise. It is a rather bold look for you, young Master Keeferson. Are you certain you are quite ready for such a move? If nothing else, the ladies will know without fail you are confident enough in your masculinity to wear this."

"But... But... But..."

"Oh do not worry, Mister Keeferson. You look absolutely dashing in this. Further more, we positively insist you take this suit jacket at twenty percent off. Just be sure to inform all those at Hogwarts who gave you this brilliant cut. It makes your spine straighter and your shoulders broader. Why, I would not place you at any younger than nineteen years of age with this look. Perhaps a cravat?"

"But it's... it's... it's..."

"Yes, I do understand it is normally out of a conventional student's price range. Still, it is quite fabulous and the last four gentlemen to wear this sportscoat did not possess even half the physical presence you do. Do you work out though, Mister Keeferson? As I must admit, I will have to ensure my daughters do not see you this day, as they are rather fond of a well-dressed man."

"But it's pink!"

"... Well, not exactly. And more importantly, it's durable. And in your case, Mister Keeferson, it is that durability of such a wonderful suit jacket which you will value in the near and far future. So then, you will take it I am assured. Mauritizia?"

"Yes, Madame Viliata?"

"Mister Keeferson will be taking this entire outfit, including the pants, the new shoes, and the cravat. Especially the cravat, as it is on sale and will only work with a man whom is over five-foot eight. Something, I fear, we have not been seeing many of this day."

"At once, Madame Viliata!"

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"You are a young man, yes?"

"Yeah..."

"Then of course you don't. You would go out and buy yourself a pair of jeans or five with your behind sticking out of the back. Hardly attractive, professional, or malleable within a proper young wizard's outfit. Not to mention I did receive this most beautiful letter from your professors at home? Apparently they wished that I ensure the «social presentability» of one of their most notorious students. Besides, if you don't select this all, there is always... polka-dots."

"You are a fiend..."

"Yes, I might be that. There is veela in my blood through my mother's side and baen sidhe through my father's side. However, I am a fiend of exacting tastes and perfections... and it would be Madame Fiend to you."

Swatting him with a fan, Madame Viliata ushered a very confused and distraught Keeferson to the counter, adding two more shirts and a tie to his total.

"But I don't have the money for all this!"

"Oh, I knew that before you came in, Mister Keeferson. Which is why you will be working here for the rest of the day. One of my relatives, one Mademoiselle Cherise D’angelnuit, has explained to me that you are an expert at languages, correct? Not to mention your professor in this letter also expressed the same sentiment? Well, it seems I have this old magical sewing machine here I purchased from a collector. Since all the instructions are in Japanese, I can't use it yet. I do believe if you deciphered everything for me here, we could call things even?"

"..."

"I just -knew- you would see things my way. Such a smart young man you are..."

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: in response to the abuse I gave my character in the Rumours thread...)


The Interview (a.k.a. "Look At All These Rumours...")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


After having heard at least twenty different rumours about himself, Keeferson decided to attempt to set the record straight. As one may have guessed, when your interviewers are a group of girls in their second year at Hogwarts, the questions may not exactly stay on course. The girls were from each of the different Houses of Hogwarts: Cara Mordaine from Hufflepuff, Georgina Howlstone from Ravenclaw, Esmerelda LaQuarte from Slytherin, and Leanne-Leigh Jolidura from Gryffindor. Keeferson had personally never dealt with any of the young women as far as he knew. All of them had joined one of Hogwarts “communications clubs” which distributed fliers and other such jovial slips of paper around the school. Normally Keeferson was the kind of person to ignore any leaflets around him. However, every so often he would in fact sit down and read one of them. Secretly, Keeferson had always wanted to submit something to the arts paper, but he knew his handwriting would be easily recognized. That, and he was not about to purchase one of those scribing quills he had heard of.

In terms of the interview itself, the four girls tracked Keeferson down to when he was working on something on the grounds of Hogwarts itself. As it had been a fairly sunny day, Keeferson had been throwing himself wholeheartedly into his work - whatever it was he was doing. (The girls couldn't figure out what all the slim metal poles were for. He insisted it was "not going to be modern art." That left the quartet competely confused for a full minute. By the time they had gotten out of their stunned state, all the metal poles had been placed into a long mango orange box labeled "sunstroke.") Each of the girls in turn had asked him to do the interview, and initially he had rebuffed their efforts. They were not to be dissuaded, however. After two hours of constant nagging, he broke down and gave them the interview they demanded.

By the end of this particular session (which ended up being printed and sent to as many people as were interested), Keeferson truly regretted ever learning the English language to begin with. Here are some of the parts of the interview. Whether they made it to the final cut or not is anyone's guess.

* * * * *

Georgina Howlstone: Okay, to start off, can we get your name?

Keeferson: "Keeferson."

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: No, I mean your full name. Everyone knows your family name is Keeferson. That's not good enough.

Keeferson: It is going to have to be.

Cara Mordaine: You do realize if you are going to be like that, we are going to refer to you in the article as "Grumpy-Pants Meanie-head Keeferson the Bitter."

Keeferson: ...

Keeferson: ... Fine.

(At this point at time, the girls all looked at each other in complete amazement. Esmerelda LaQuarte - being the self-appointed scribe - noted down that in the article Keeferson would be called "Grumpy-Pants Meanie-head Keeferson the Bitter." Snickering was heard from the girls themselves, while Keeferson drummed his fingers on his thighs irritatedly.)

Cara Mordaine: Right then. Next question is an easy one: who is your favourite teacher inside of the school?

Keeferson: You mean like as a person or respect for their accomplishments?

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: We'll go with the "respect" line of thinking. You don't seem to like that many people.

Keeferson: ...

Keeferson: True enough. Then in terms of respect, it would be a tossup between Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

Esmerelda LaQuarte: Told you, Cara! Certifiable Snapity Fanboy! That's a day's worth of homework you owe me.

Cara Mordaine: Oh, man...

Keeferson: You wagered on such a thing?

Cara Mordaine: *whimpering tone* Yeah...

Keeferson: ...

Georgina Howlstone: Okay, next question for Lord Acidbritches - what is your favourite subject?

Keeferson: Lord Acid-wha? Okay, I don't know what they are feeding you kids any more in this school. Anyway, it would be Arithmancy, Potions, and Transfigurations. All of them tied.

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: So you really are a true geek then?

Keeferson: Yes, I am. Issue with this?

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: *timidly* No...

Keeferson: Right then, is this going to take long?

Georgina Howlstone: Of course it is. We wanted to write a story about one of the most feared, most respected, and most admired students around. However, we can't find Jinx Sinclair (who's really creepy), Callie Bradley (because she's busy doing Head Girl stuff) or Seril Kane. So we settled on you because everyone's talking about that thing you made in the dungeons!

Keeferson: What... Thing...? *leaning in his seat towards Georgina.*

Georgina Howlstone: *undaunted* We'll get to it. But first, for a guy that has like almost no friends, you seem to be attached to a lot of girls.

Keeferson: *stunned, leaning back* WHAT?

Esmerelda LaQuarte: Yeah, it's like either someone's working overtime to talk about you, or you're the one that's working overtime. If you know what I mean, that is.

Keeferson: First and foremost... young lady, you are grounded.

Esmerelda LaQuarte: Hey! You can't ground me. You're not my father. You're not my mother either, so don't even try that one.

Keeferson: You are beginning to scare me. *turning to Cara* And you can quote me on saying I am not currently dating anyone at the moment.

Cara Mordaine: So you want me to quote you lying to the public. Gotcha.

Keeferson: What are you talking about?

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: Dude, you are so busted. Everyone knows about you and Shacadia Shay, Marta Chesfer, Evelyn Wolfe, and Tammy Gin.

Keeferson: Okay, you might want to slow down a bit. Are you saying that people believe that I am somehow dating any of those four women, let alone all four of them?

All four girls in unison: Yeah!

Keeferson: *hoodpalms!* Not on your life. First, I don't even know who Tammy Gin is. Next, Evelyn Wolfe barely stands on the same ground as I do. Third, Marta Chesfer is a very nice young woman who really could use some radio silence. And Shacadia Shay is a dear friend of mine who has worked very hard to keep me from losing my cool more often than not.

All four girls in unison: Yeah, right.

Keeferson: *various grumbles in Mandarin*

Georgina Howlstone: Next up - what is with you and Seril Kane? You've made it clear to a third of the school you don't like him. Why is that?

Keeferson: My reasons are my own. So next question, please and thank you.

Georgina Howlstone: Heck no! Inquiring minds want to know! And you two are in the House. Even if you didn't show your face, it'd be awesome to see you two get all reconcile-ly in the Entrance Hall.

Keeferson: What in blazes are you talking about?

Esmerelda LaQuarte: She's talking about how two boys kissing is hawte.

Keeferson: Never. Going. To. Happen.

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: A real shame.

Keeferson: I can leave, you know.

Cara Mordaine: Okay, okay. Serious question for you then. When Umbridge was here-

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: *under her breath* That evil warty cow-patty.

Cara Mordaine: Ahem. When Umbridge was here, a bunch of students got called to the office by Professor Snape. My sources tell me that you were one of them, and that you got tested for being a-

Keeferson: Here we go with the "blood" questions. Okay, before you go any further, I'll break it down for you alright? I'm not half-anything. Not half-vampire, not half-werewolf, not half-troll, not half-veela, not half-giant, not even half-way into the grave yet. Okay? No halves!

Georgina Howlstone: *to Leanne-Leigh* I've seen him down half a pie in less than a half-hour if that counts.

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: I don't think that counts, but we'll put it in the article anyway.

Keeferson: Seriously, are you done yet?

Cara Mordaine and Georgina Howlstone: NOPE! *big, evil grins that only girls of that age can muster.*

Esmerelda LaQuarte: Something I have always wanted to ask you, Keeferson. What is the deal with you and all those Slytherin girls in my House anyway?

Keeferson: They have me on retainer. Permanently. Next question.

Leanne-Leigh Jolidura: Is it true that you are plotting to kill the Pope?

Keeferson: I'm a Roman Catholic, so I don't think that would be a smart move for me.

Esmerelda LaQuarte: Out with it, Keeferson. You're secretly dating Tera J or Pearl Blossum from my House, aren't you?

Keeferson: No, and no! I'm not dating anyone!

Cara Mordaine: Just like a guy: afraid of commitment.

(At this time, the girls all shook their heads sadly. Keeferson took this opportunity to try to run away. However, they caught up with him readily enough, harassing him with even more questions. By the time they were done with him, Keeferson was ready to attempt using the killing curse on them all.)

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.