(OOC: to explain the OOC loading up of two characters, I present to you this post. Yes, this does involve more abuse of poor Keeferson by ebil, ebil wimmins. Because wimmins be scary to Keeferson in packs. He just doesn’t shows it like most peoples do. *nod nods!*)


The Sound Of One Hundred High Heels Clicking
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


“Keeferson! We want a word with you!”

The sound of that voice did not bode well for the Hufflepuff Hardcase. Turning slowly, Keeferson looked out from his hood. At least four young women from Hufflepuff were approaching him, and all of them were in Sixth and Seventh Year. Keeferson did not know any of them personally, but could name them off in random succession. As well, he had just come out of the shower and was heading for the floo fireplace to get himself breakfast. As he had been feeling rather famished as of late, any delays to getting food meant his mood would continue its rapid descent. He was tempted to set fire to the floor beneath him as a distraction, but that would be frowned upon by Professor Sprout. Since he had managed to escape major detriment for a full five days in a row, he was aiming for a complete week.

“… Yes?”

“Keeferson! You are going nowhere until we are done with you.”

“… You do know that breakfast is waiting for me, and I get more hostile the less food I have in my stomach.”

“Don’t care. Sit down. Shut up. Don’t make me crack nuts on your head.”

“WHAT?!?”

“Walnuts, pecans, and brazil nuts in a bag right to your cranium repeatedly. What did you think I meant?”

“*muttering* Girls are scary.”

Felicia Doyle, the head girl out of the small mob who had surrounded Keeferson, smiled to herself as two of the other young women took Keeferson by the shoulders and placed him rather firmly in the couch. As Keeferson was not trying to resist, Felicia made it a point to remember to use this tactic again later. Keeferson had been rumoured to be easily controlled by women. She was finding out for herself this apparently was the case.

Silencia Enries and Tryiana Meiyou were the two sitting on either side of Keeferson. Both of them had their knees coquettishly posed in Keeferson’s direction, with their wands conveniently in their respective laps. Kiyoko Xaivers, being the eldest there, was standing behind Keeferson, leaning on the couch’s back itself. And making up the final member was Silencia’s cousin, Bionca Greensway. Bionca had been the one to suggest the idea to Felicia in the first place. From there, the other three had been brought in to assist. Keeferson was not exactly known as being the sweet and loveable type. The “anti-everything Hufflepuff” Hufflepuff had also been said to chew on dead Fwoopers, so it wasn’t as if they had much to go on. It was only when Tryiana brought up the fact that Keeferson did have a few acquaintances in their mutual House that the concept of using a “press gang” came into play.

Tyriana stretched delicately, showing off her elegant lines. Kiyoko made it a point to hide rolling her eyes at Tryiana. Not that her roommate was promiscuous, but she could never resist idle flirtation in front of an eligible (read: single, with a brain, male, and over 5’6”) male. Keeferson’s cough told Tryiana that despite that stupid hood of his, Keeferson still was susceptive to feminine wiles and persuasions. Nothing blatant or overt, but if she could distract him enough to not think about what he was saying, that would be good enough for her.

“Right then. Now, Keeferson, we have an order to place. Actually, we have –two- orders to place. And you are going to fulfill these two orders for us. Sound difficult so far?”

“Look… Felicia’s your name, right? I don’t really know you. I don’t know your friends. I don’t what you are talking about. And you know something else? I don’t care. I’m getting breakfast-“

A high heeled boot was placed quickly and firmly on the couch. Felicia made sure to line up boot to Keeferson’s sternum… and therefore everything directly beneath it. Keeferson forced himself to resist the urge to backhand Felicia’s leg out of his way. It wasn’t as if a girl had never threatened him in such a fashion before. However, most of them had the common decency to wait until after his morning repast before doing anything like that.

“Let me try this in words that you understand then. First, we know you do work for those Slytherin harlot friends of yours. And I mean Sinn’re Alarcsein and –her- friends. I’ve known since the beginning, especially as she’s made it a point to rub in the fact her grades are –that much- higher than mine because of you. Second, it’s not exactly a secret you have a lot of deals with people outside the school. All that stuff you’ve had flown in that you’ve been translating for who the hell knows. Third, most of Hufflepuff doesn’t like you and you don’t like most of the only House generous enough to take you in.”

“Generous, is that what you call it? So generous that your main prefect couldn’t get off his lazy @$$ in order to help out a younger student who was in obvious medical distress? So bloody generous, the only time I actually seem to have time made for me by Professor Sprout is for her to lecture me about artistic license and how cruel I’ve apparently been with? So undeniably generous that I get to field at least forty «Why don’t you just die already» letters which were obviously sent by Hufflepuff students? If that’s what you mean by generous, then yes you have all been very creative in your giving.”

At this point and time, Keeferson started to stand up again. Kiyoko’s wand at his temple and the patient hands of Silencia and Tryiana on his shoulders prevented that. Keeferson was doing his personal best to resist the ever-growing urge to lash out at the women. He could only hope that Sierra would show up. Heck, at this point Emily or Creed would serve as great distraction as well. However, this was not the case. Putting one large fist into the middle of his open right palm, he sat back down again.

Bionca decided she would try to get things back on track before Keeferson’s rage got the better of him. Walking over to the couch, she sat on the coffee table across and to the left of Keeferson. As Felicia wasn’t about to move of Keeferson’s direct line of sight (if his eyes were even open at this point), Bionca thought this would be a suitable vantage point. Knowing that her Portuguese heritage would show through her voice, she opted to go with a more guilt-ridden method.

“So, we believe it’s about time for you to do something nice for a few Hufflepuff students for a change. You are always on the move with all these Slytherins, and yet you barely do anything for your own House? I think that’s just a tad unusual if nothing else. And hatred or not, you –live- in Hufflepuff House. So you are more than owing on that. Whatever your feelings are of the people who make up Hufflepuff is immaterial. You are going to do up two milk runs and then ship it out in the names of the people we tell you. Heck, most of this stuff you’d probably have just laying around in that secret laboratory of yours people keep talking about.”

“Still. No. Dice.”

Bionca was stunned for a moment, then she decided to take a different route.

“Appealing to your nobility would be wasted, I take it. Same thing with hoping for a kinder, gentler side of you. We get it. We get it. So then, there are two other ways we could do this from what I’m seeing. Either we can threaten to make your life even more miserable as it is already, or…-“

Silencia took up where Bionca left the sentence hanging. “… Or what happens is that we request that you serve an observational period to make sure you are of sound mind and body. And we would make sure that the person who would do most of the observing would be Seril Kane. Because everyone and their mother knows exactly how close you are with Hufflepuff’s most leanable male, right?”

Silencia’s Italian accent made most of her words come out more “mature” in feel than most. It had gotten her in trouble with more than a few of the boys of Slytherin and of Ravenclaw. Silencia’s left-handed slap was one of the most feared in her year -every- year.

“I don’t like where you are going with this,” replied Keeferson icily. He was still calm in his demeanor, but was seething inside. They were stopping him from getting breakfast! The nerve of these dames! And what was worse, he couldn’t even draw his wand on them and just blow them all away. He wasn’t anywhere close to that powerful yet. That, and cleaning up the mess before he was discovered would be virtually impossible. The wand lightly tapping on his shoulders to 4/4 timing wasn’t making matters better, either.

“Really, what we are asking isn’t that much,” Silencia continued on. “It is nothing more than what you have done already for at least thirty other students. Yes, people –have- been counting, and come back with some pretty impressive numbers. If you weren’t such a difficult person to track down, we could have contacted you previously about all this. We know about your deals with some of the younger Slytherins, and the fact you’ve taken a couple Firsties from Gryffindor out shopping with you once.”

Felicia took the opportunity to change from the right boot being on the couch to the left boot. The position of the boot itself didn’t change at all, though. Taking a deep breath, she brushed off her long floor length skirt and leveled her gaze at the hooded wizarding student sitting on the couch.

“All we want, Keeferson, is for you to come up with two care packages. One is going to be for the cousin of a girl you already know who came in via her guardians and joined our House a few nights ago. The other is going to go to a Second Year student that nobody really talks to. No fault of her own though, as she always seems to be leaving a room whenever people are going into it. Their names are Celeste Star and Dakota J’Telle. Feel free to look them up if you don’t believe us that they exist or not. Nothing massive even, just a care package. Enough to get each of them started off right at Hogwarts. And we’re getting you to do it because you don’t have nails to break, boyfriends to control, classes to skip, hair to fix, and most importantly… you are used to being an outcast. They aren’t. They don’t deserve to be here and think they are all alone. For once, Keeferson, you can do something –good- for someone else.”

“You realize you haven’t come up with a singular reason why I should help anyone –you- all tell me to.”

At least, Felicia was about to hit Keeferson with a hex or two. Silencia scowled darkly at Keeferson. Even Tyriana’s normally smiling face wore apprehension. It was Kiyoko’s quiet rejoinder which cut through that moment of silence.

“We know you get paid to help out others. We know you choose to help out some completely on your own. However, if you don’t help out these two girls, I’ll just tell Evie, Sierra, Evelyn, Shandy and Emily that you refused to help some sweet and innocent girls who did no harm to you at all. I’m sure you can figure out how the rest of that would go.”

“…”

Keeferson rolled his shoulders once. He could find a way to care less about the opinions of most of the young women mentioned, but he knew he would never heard the end of it from Shandy or Sierra.

“Fine. After my ******** breakfast, alright? Not before. You want before? You pay the going rates. And that means anything from five galleons to five hundred galleons a box. Understood?”

Kiyoko smiled quietly as she slid her wand away. The brief and cursive tirade had been all the girls had been looking for.

“Wait a minute,” said Tryiana as she rose from her seat. “You mean you charge up to five –hundred- galleons to get things for people?”

“Acquisitions is a dangerous line of work at times. Danger costs money. You want a lower rate, you don’t put a time limit on it or you go with the person to pick it up. That simple.”

“You, Keeferson, are a mercenary.”

“… Yes. Yes, it appears I am. Complete with weapons and itinerary. Now then, I have breakfast to attend to, unless you all feel like coughing up some galleons.”

The silence that went through the room was deafening.

“Right then. I get breakfast. After that, I’ll work on your `care packages’ as you so wish to call them.”

After he left, the young women turned to each other thoughtfully.

“Well,” said Bionca with a small smile, “that went far better than expected.”

“You have a point,” replied Felicia. “We didn’t even have to hit him with the restraining spells.”

“I know,” Silencia chimed in. “I had been practicing them all this week. I was sort of looking forward to seeing Keeferson all unable to move and stuff. Would have gotten a chance to pull off that hood of his and see what he really looks like.”

“ARGH! I knew I forgot something”

“What are you talking about, Bionca?”

“We had him right in front of us and we didn’t take his hood! Oh, I am so stupid. Think of the pictures we could have taken!”

“Bah… It’s alright. Sooner or later, we’ll get blackmail on him. Right after that, we get him in a swimsuit.”

“But… what happens if he’s all ugly underneath those robes of his?”

“Then we put him to work that’ll get him in shape. And if he’s a butterface, Silencia, there are surgeons that handle that sort of thing…”

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

(OOC: this is in response to a few in-game actions of mine. The actions were blatantly out of character, as I was assisting a fellow player with their character. Therefore, I am writing this piece to explain what happened in-game itself. The characters have not actually interacted as of yet in-character, therefore something else would have had to happen. This is the end result of my musing on the bus to work. Yes, I do work. Stop trying to say otherwise, slackers. *grins*)


Take A Gander At The Gander, But Never Goose The Goose
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


Ever since the posters went up from Drama Queen X and the Slytherin Siren Seven, Keeferson’s life had been a minor whirlpool. This sudden case of “spin and drown” was the result of one factor and one factor alone: girls. You see, now that two completely different viewpoints about Keeferson had been put up for all to see, more young women wanted to find out about Keeferson for themselves… whether he wanted them to or not. The fact that some of his friends (including one mentioned in the Drama Queen X article) had been injured in a “school accident” was not helping matters any, either.

Trying to control one’s emotions was easy when you were by yourself. Trying to control them when you had people asking for five minutes of your time to answer “just a few questions” was a different matter altogether. One of the reasons he had requested to get a pass from Madam Pomfrey for the Restricted Section was to have a place few people could reach him within the school. The last time he had tried going to the Kitchens, he had been ambushed by a small horde of Slytherin girls in their third year. And when he had sought solace in his beloved Owlery, there had been a coterie of Fourth Year Gryffindor witches waiting for him. Even his favourite places were no longer sanctum sanctorum for him…

* * * * *

“Keeferson!”

This was the first word to welcome the dour Hufflepuff student as he wandered into the Kitchens. He had been planning to do some early evening baking while working on his ever-present Charms Theory homework. It seemed, however, that the group of emerald Erinyes were going to put a big “denied” stamp on that. Sighing, he leaned back against the wall, eyeing the four young women. He barely recognized them, having dealt more with a few different Slytherin women. Not reaching for his wand yet, his hood pointed in their general direction. Crossing his arms, he stretched his spine ever so slightly to reach his full height. He was not in the mood to deal with jokes or games this day, and he was going to let them know that.

“So you know first off, we don’t consider you Slytherin’s pet dog. I don’t know who the Slytherin Siren Seven are, but that’s just not right. Although I have to admit, that pool boy picture of you is sort of hot for a mu-mu-muggle-born. Secondly, everyone knows about `The Deal’ now, so it doesn’t matter if we show up in private or in public. And most importantly, we got money so you should be able to make a bit of time, right? It’s not as if whatever the heck you are working on in the dungeons – Slytherin dungeons, I should add – requires a close watch, now does it?”

Obviously, this was the leader of the group. She had everything one would expect of the leader. It was only when Keeferson shrugged again, he noticed the young lady in the back of the group give the raven-locked speaker a pointed look. This was a little different: a silent commander? The young woman of auburn hair and swarthy complexion for a Western European always seemed to keep her left thumb on her signet ring. Not exactly unheard of was this tactic, but definitely new for Slytherin. Keeferson pretended to not notice this, as he had his reputation to repair.

“First… whomever the Sirens are, they don’t have their facts straight. Second, if you bring up that picture again I am going to walk out of here without a second glance. Third, my time is my own. And when I’m off the clock, then you would be out of luck. Finally, whatever it is I am working on no matter where it is happens to be nobody’s business but my own.”

All of this was said in a low and menacing voice. Sadly for Keeferson, all that did was cause two of the young Slytherin lasses to fake swoon and giggle insanely. At that moment, Keeferson was very thankful for his hood. He was certain his eyes were carving the three of them into small cylindrical chunks. Shaking his head once, he stepped away from the wall. He still did not go for his wand, but he was sorely tempted to.

“Look, Keeferson, Ares, whatever right? A few of us have gotten together and decided we want you to do up a `care package’ for a Slytherin. Before you ask, the main reason for this is we know you’ll have extra ingredients left over and we’ll be buying out the rest of your stock if we see something we need. We also need something nice on it, like a poem or something. You’re smart, you’ll figure it out. Nothing mushy or filled with muggle-born smut, though, or we’ll be removing your lungs through your pores. Slowly.”

“Right. You want to tell me who this `care package’ is going to be for? Or am I supposed to just guess based on the numbers of First Year Slytherin and try to interpolate the information.”

“Inter-what? Look, brooding behemoth geek guy, Don’t start getting all lippy and stuff. Just because Liss and Tera let you get away with that doesn’t mean that we will. You need to remember your place in the grand scheme of things. And right now, that place is anywhere you can get ingredients. The First Year’s name is Mystery Strange. No seriously, that’s her name. We didn’t make it up. And by the way, Mr. Ares Richard Keeferson, we need that before the end of the weekend. You can have your dalliances with all those random girls you know later. This is a cold hard cash transaction – even they should understand that.”

“Hey! Leave my friends out of this or I’m walking. Seriously, what do you take me for? Some sort of a promiscuous wretch because I’ve given women a hug or two? What kind of –“

The young lady with five perfectly bronzed braids entered the conversation at this time. Keeferson knew he would regret coming into the Kitchens at all today, but he figured that running would a very bad idea. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge all of their incantations. And if he missed one spell in return, it could hit one of the House Elves or destroy some of the furniture. All in all, this was turning out to be a Very Annoying Day.

“Keeferson,” the young woman drawled in a decidedly Slavic accent, “we are only asking for something you have previously done. Whomever calls you a dog is obviously not worthy of your talents. We, as you can plainly understand, are. The Deal holds firm unless those who created The Deal break the compact. And as they have not, you still are under the rules and requirements of it. So then, we have the money to pay you for your services. Therefore, we expect those services to be performed. We might be younger than you, oh Tower of Dour, but we do understand how a contract works even without writing in ink and signing in blood.”

“… Fine then. Though you keep your noses out of my dungeon, and your opinions of my friends to yourselves.”

The young woman handed over a satchel laden with silver coins. She then pulled out a second matching satchel with even more silver coins.

The original young lady smiled at her friend behind her. The young lady with the signet ring nodded once more to her raven-locked companion and then at the other girls. Keeferson held his tongue, not wanting to cause discontent while he was not being actively skewered verbally. Completely unfolding his arms, Keeferson stretched himself out. Noting the girls were still between himself and his beloved kitchen space, he sighed and turned on his heels. Leaving, he heard some conversation starting up again between the young women. Unlike previous times, Keeferson was entirely uninterested in what they had to say for each other. It would not do him any good to try to find out what they were up to. In all truth, he just didn’t care. All he wanted was some time along with a good book.

* * * * *

Keeferson’s memory of the early morning was quite vivid. After grabbing breakfast, he decided to go to the Owlery. The place where Hogwarts kept their messenger birds was quite the view, if that is what you were looking for. In the case of Keeferson, he just enjoyed feeding the owls their choice of rats, cooked meats stolen from previous meals, and treats. The owls loved Keeferson, and he loved them in return. Getting out his favourite text book, he opened the Owlery doors expecting to see none in there.

He, for the second time that day, was so very, very wrong. Seeing a group of different girls from Gryffindor caused him to backpedal. One of the more agile of the group (who happened to be a Quidditch fanatic and a Quodpod fanatic), stepped swiftly through the Owlery to keep him from running away. As she was moving towards him, one of the other girls whipped out her wand and blasted the door shut with a gust of air. Between the two of them, Keeferson was trapped. As there were five young women in crimson there and just him, Keeferson resigned himself to another round of questioning. He was decidedly nonplussed by this turn of events.

“So then, the legendary Huffle-**** returns to his old stomping grounds. How fortuitous for us?”

“Call me that again, and the only legend you’ll be seeing is the River Styx – from the bottom. I am not a ****. I am not a tramp. I’ve done anything more than –kiss- a girl, alright? I don’t even know why I have to explain anything to you to begin with. The only reason I don’t try to hex you all is that innocent owls could be harmed.”

Yes, Keeferson had gone from annoyed to infuriated in less than 6.5 seconds. Hardly a record for him, when one took everything else into account. The Gryffindor damsel with the boyish cut stormed up to the Hufflepuff, wagging a finger in his face. She apparently was undaunted by his less than sterling reputation.

“Listen, bully boy! I’m not afraid of you. I could take you in a duel with both hands tied behind my-“

It was here where Keeferson grabbed both her hands with one of his far larger ones. To be more accurate, he grabbed her wrists. Leaning down so his hood was just touching the young woman’s brow, he growled at her once. The squeak she made was far from the bold tones she had used earlier. It was here he sighed and released her wrists, leaning up against the wall away from the hinges on the massive doors.

“That’s very nice that you aren’t scared of me. However, you forget I am the one pinned down here by you. You treat me with hostility, I will respond in kind and worse besides. Though I am supposed to be working on getting better, I still do not have mastery over my temper. Now then, if you want to continue along this path, we will end up upsetting the owls and the falcons within here. If you want to actually be decent to me so that way I –have- no reason to get angry, then we can start from the beginning. Sound like a plan?”

The singular redhead of the group came up and led away the young woman with the pageboy hairstyle, scowling at Keeferson. “You are a cad and a bully. Your kind should be locked up somewhere far from decent people.”

“**** this. I am out of here. Stop me at your own peril.”

“Wait!” cried the same girl with the pageboy hairstyle. There were unshed tears in her eyes, more than likely from the shock that Keeferson really –was- going to just walk out and leave before they got a decent word in. “Look, I’m sorry alright? It’s just that Drama Queen X said that-“

“Correction, young miss. She –insinuated- that I was some sort of Don Juan DeMarco or Casanova. I am neither of those things. I barely have friends to begin with, and I really hate it that people have chosen to stick their pens in places they don’t belong. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. And you are going to just go with the words of some gossip girl as if it were the gospel. Feh. I have no need of this garbage. As I said, I’m-“

“HEY!” said the young woman who must have been the leader by the way all eyes turned to her. “Look, you! We needed to talk with you for a reason, so you’re staying until we’ve had our say. All I’ve been hearing from the First Year girls in our House is how `Keeferson’s really helped me out’ or `Keeferson’s gotten me to the Infirmary when I bumped my head,’ and a bunch of other stuff. It’s like you are two or three different people. Now before you go off in some pout just because a group of girls said something you didn’t like, maybe you should take a look at yourself.”

“Your convenient conceit is duly noted.”

“It’s not bloomin’ conceit, you twisted, savage, vainglorious, bloodthirsty behemoth!”

The young woman stopped yelling at Keeferson as the owls went into an uproar because of the noise. Keeferson’s hood twisted right and left, seeing all the birds in distress. Leaving the entryway entirely, he began going from section to section, calming down the owls with soft words and bits of meat for bribes. Ten minutes later, most if not all of the owls were relaxed once more. One of the younger ones had decided it wanted to use Keeferson as a pillow, and was sleeping in the crook of his arm. Turning back on the young women, Keeferson looked far less like a thug and far more like a nursery assistant.

Sighing once, the leader of the girls started speaking again. “Keeferson… because apparently nobody is supposed to use your first name, right? Keeferson, all we originally wanted to do was get you to do something for us. We needed a package to be made up for one of the new girls, Azaryel Strange. Normally we’d do it ourselves, but word in the school is that yours are about as famous as your cheesecake. We even had money and everything. It’s just that you come off as such a ***** in person and all that. That, and those posters floating around the school aren’t helping you either.”

“And you expect me to help you because…?”

“As I said, we have money. It wouldn’t technically be –helping- as much as it would be a –job,- right? You do them up for Slytherins all the time. And no, I’m not going into that mess, okay? It’s just that we know you’ve done up similar for the Slytherins that we thought you’d be perfect for this.”

“… and how much do you have, again?”

“It’s… it’s not a heck of a lot. We’re not rich or anything and-“

“I’ll take it.” Keeferson had cut off the young woman in mid-sentence. His tone had that ring of finality of one announcing a funeral service.

“But you haven’t even counted it yet?”

“Did you want me to reconsider?” The young man’s hood panned in the direction of the group of young women before him. Thankful for the enchantment on his hood which prevented most people from seeing inside of it, Keeferson’s eyes were closed as he started calculating the amount of effort this was going to take. Not as if he couldn’t use the exercise, given the amounts of food he consumed in a single sitting…

“No…”

“Then, I’ll take it,” said the towering Hufflepuff, still stroking a cooing yearling owl in his arms. The owl woke up barely, hooted its approval, and promptly went back to sleep. The girls saw this as a good omen and handed the mahogany monolith a satchel with silver Sickles within. Leaving quietly, it was only the final girl out the door who spoke up. She was not one of the ones that talked before, as he would have remembered her hair easily: the colour of a pale ale.

“It’s Azaryel Strange. First Year Gryffindor. Whatever you do, remember that first alright?”

“Yeah… First Year Gryffindor.” Keeferson’s voice was barely audible, so far gone was his aggravation. Now it was under as much control as he could muster while any of the five girls were still there.

Looking at the money in the satchel, he noticed someone had slipped a golden Galleon along with the rest of it. Shaking his head, he pocketed the coin before putting the yearling owl back in its section with care.

“Great… now I get to be busy twice over. This is going to be fun…”

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

(OOC: This would take place after the events listed in the Rumor Mill here: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=2861&start=30 . (May 31 2009) Keeferson would not come directly back to school. This transpires a full day before he returns. Keeferson's absence woudl be noted by those who know him well. The teachers would only notice (unless they paid attention) that their classes were remarkably quieter this day.)


Some Things You Should Just Read The Label About...
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year of Hogwarts>


Ares Richard Keeferson, also known as "Lord ARKham," granted the alias Arkady "Archie" Chung-Lei, was tired. He was tired from the questioning period he had just left. He was tired from the blood testing he had been forced to go through. He was tired from the wonderful gamut of potions and concoctions he had been made to drink throughout the entire day - none of which tasted good. (Thank goodness for Brawndo and Powerthirst.) By the end of the day, Keeferson felt about as worn out as the Grand Canyon. Looking at the doors to the Imports and Investigated Immigration office, he wondered if the British Ministry of Magic would ever let him leave.

Keeferson was sitting on the same bench for at least two hours. He knew, because he had been checking the time and reading through the periodicals left in the reception area. The secretaries had even changed guard while he had been sitting there. He had been thankful they had allowed him to use the lavatory services, as all those potions in his system had to come out some time. Not exactly the most glamorous thing, waiting for someone while wanting to go to the bathroom. He had spent at least fifteen minutes in the lavatory fixing his hair and going over his personal properties. Magic made maintaining braids such as his easier, but it still took some work. When he came out, he did ask if he had lost his spot. The secretary had smiled at him sadly and informed him nothing had changed - including the time he was going to have to wait.

Sighing once, Keeferson read through at least four different magazines before he was allowed to speak with anyone outside of the secretaries. Though he had to admit, the secretaries were very nice people. (He was a little uncertain as to why both of them left him their floo codes and asked him if he had an older brother or cousin already at Hogwarts. He chose not to ask.) The four wizards in brown and gray awaiting him inside of the Imports and Investigated Immigration office were all business. Being grilled for another thirty minutes, Keeferson began to wonder if it was worth it to spend all this time going back to school through "the proper channels" and not just find his own way back. Then he remembered the fifteen pages of contractual agreements he had been forced to sign while back at home. Taking a few deep breaths, he answered all of the questions as best he could, using a minimal about of misinterpretation and redirection to make the Ministry officials believe whatever they wanted to.

Sent on his way out of the office, he noticed there were no shadows tailing him this time. He also did not have any official chaperones, either. It was as if all they cared about was what they could pull from him. After that, he was as expendable as toilet paper. He felt nothing about not giving the Ministry the truth, as he knew the Ministry wasn't interested. All they (and most adults by Keeferson's estimation) wanted was whatever they thought sounded LIKE the truth as they envisioned it. He was by no means impressed with them. And in the end, he did not need to be.

Of course, if the Ministry knew of what thoughts were in Keeferson's mind, they would have immediately dragged him back. Thankfully, there were no Legimens on shift that day. Not that Keeferson's mind was that easy to navigate through, but such is life. Taking the long route back, Keeferson made it a point to find his way back to Diagon Alley. Going to the apothecary there, he asked for a few purchases. The new assistant gave the youth a hard time, insisting that "a mere boy such as yourself has no idea what you are asking for." Before Keeferson could turn on his heel and walk out, the main proprietor came out. Shooing away the assistant, she informed Keeferson that the hired help came from a wizarding family that specialized in the care and containment of wyverns. (Given the viper tongue of the older woman, it was not that surprising.) The young man nodded once and handed the apothecary his list. The woman's eyes widened significantly, but acquired everything for him.

Keeferson's next stop was the lady who sold all of the phials and vials, bottles and flasks. Buying a few adamantine vials and blessed crystal bottles, he thanked the lady and left. This was a far quicker purchase for him, as people did not question containers all that often. He did make a point to ask about rental facilities for cauldron usage. The woman smiled and directed him to a place on the far side of Diagon Alley that few people went to. Sliding the woman an extra Gold Galleon for her troubles, Keeferson headed in that direction.

The rental place was relatively quiet. Each cauldron space was separated and bespelled for sound- and shockproofing. There was a clear list of things you could -not- create, and the instructions for some of the base compounds for things you might want to. Making sure to make some base-level holy water, Keeferson set out to do some purification. He spent the better part of two hours working on refining the blood of four of the major dragon species, putting the end results into the adamantine phials: the Peruvian Vipertooth, the Hebridean Black, the Chinese Fireball, and the Romanian Longhorn. The blood of the Ukrainian Ironbelly he had kept separate. Leaving the rental place, he had been sure to Scourgify and Tergeo all traces of what he had been doing from the place. He even went as far as to sand-scour the cauldron.

Going into Knockturn Alley, Keeferson found a tavern with an inn above it. Renting a room for three days (or at least that is what he told the innkeep as he paid them), Keeferson went about cleaning up the entire room. Once he was done, he took out the refined blood, along with the blood of the Ukranian Ironbelly, one canister of Brawndo, and one more of Powerthirst. Finally, he took out the silver and brass flasks he always made sure to have on him. Wizardlocking the door, Keeferson opened up the window to the room, looking out at the scenery beneath him. Casting a few wards to make sure nothing could come in, he began.

Keeferson would spend the next twelve hours imbibing the blood of the dragons and then chasing it down with Brawndo, Powerthirst, or his medications. The fact he suffered no ill effects at first bothered Keeferson. It was only after the eighth hour that things started happening. Keeferson would spend four hours in a nightmarish state which he could not force himself awake from. Within these dreams, all he could see was blood and fire everywhere. The deaths he saw were caused by his actions... or inaction, as they case might be. Some of them he even caused himself, such as beheadings or worse. Every person that Keeferson ever cared for were showcased at some point, screaming to be saved. In Keeferson's mind, those four hours were like four weeks.

Waking up at long last, Keeferson was in a horrible state. Collecting his things, he removed the wizardlocks from the doors and left through another entrance. Heading back to Diagon Alley, Keeferson would spend eight hours inside of The Leaky Cauldron's inn, either sleeping fitfully or showering frenetically. The red of his eyes was slightly more shiny now, but not glowing. The wounds in his neck had finally healed, though within the week Keeferson would have them looked at by "friends" of his. Keeferson's hair was slightly longer now, with an even more pronounced sheen to them. (Keeferson spent one full hour and three bottles of hair products washing his hair.) The end results of Keeferson's experiment and experience would not be known immediately, but very soon indeed...

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

(OOC: history of Keeferson's wand will go here. there's not much to it, really. at least, not it in my mind so far. maybe more will come to me as time goes on.)


Shadows In Your Mind, Shade In Your Heart
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 10, one year or so before Hogwarts>


The secretary was at her desk, along with the Ministry officials here for this... "ceremony" as it were. She had found the old wand completely by accident one day, and thought to keep it. Her son had used it for years, until his accident with the pertyon eggs. And then, as if by fate, he was no longer able to wield the wand at all. His fingers would burn and freeze at the touch of the wood. Even the most cantrip was beyond his reach. All until he went into the wand shoppe one last time. Turned out the first wand he touched was the one for him. Him, in this case, being the secretary's son. The wandmaker, one Mapiya Brightflower, had actually believed the new wand to be "dead," but the secretary's son had given it life. The wand itself was ten inches, made with Eastern Red Cedar for the wood, and two features from a cockatrice as the core. How she got the cockatrice features was a secret that Mapiya would take to her grave. The wood of the wand was from a lightning-blasted tree, but from an undamaged section. In the end, the new wand was even more powerful for the secretary's son than the original was.

The original wand itself... Her mind drifted back to the young man whom it would go to. From what she had read, the young boy had come into his magic through the tragic onset of disease. His even more youthful friend who was there with him was another who was "inheriting" a wand from a previous owner. At least in the case of the youth Vik Mournblade, the wand was originally his grandfather Lerato Mournblade's "training wand." Given the history of the Mournblade family, that wasn't such a bad thing. Vik's father Siawn was on hand for this, mainly to represent his own son. The other young man had no sorcerers in his family to represent him, therefore the Ministry had appointed a stand-in for him: one Yorkfield Shoregraine, junior attendant in the Canadian Ministry's Auror Correspondence Division.

The secretary shook her head, thinking about how badly this young man was starting off. He was already sickly, getting a wand that wasn't even tested for him, and informed unless something happened even more drastic than before (such as the wand exploding or the young man himself losing a limb) would he have to make due with what he was given. A new wand for the youth would not have been that expensive for him, either. However, the moment that Ministry official Grant Muriasdale heard about her finding the old wand, he had jumped on the idea like a greedy housecat.

"The boy doesn't need a wand of his own! He just needs a stick with magic in it. Any old thing will do. And it's not as if your son's using it any more. Just give it to the brat. He's a muggle-born to begin with, and he's not going to last the year more than likely with whatever he's got."

That conversation was a few weeks ago. And now here they were, ready to give this young man who already had a bad break something which could be potentially hazardous to his health. And what was worse, the members of the Ministry seemed perfectly fine with this. It wasn't her call, however, if they wanted to see this young boy fail. It was only when she got to see the youth in person, she understood some of their... hope. The boy's name was Ares Richard Keeferson, and at ten years of age stood as tall as some twelve and thirteen year old adolescents. His eyes were a strange shade of red, as if someone dipped his irises in blood and then kiln-dried them. His looks around the room were one of a caged animal; something about him screamed that he was trapped in a structure with the walls caving in on him. And her mother's instinct burned with the thoughts that something had wounded the young man so deeply he would never recover from it.

In short, he was a danger to himself and everything around him if not shown a better way.

When the wand was handed to him with much gravity, one of the other officials asked him to try to stroke the wand for a reaction. As he did, nothing happened. Not a tremor, not a flash of light, nothing. The Ministry members (almost all of them from the Mentorship and Magical Training Associations Management offices) seemed relieved, if not giddy. One of them even had the gall to tell him the following:

"It's okay. Since you are only a kid and without any real magical background, we weren't expecting much. Maybe you'll grow into it?"

The young man said nothing, but bitter tears started to form in his eyes. The secretary wanted to reach out to the young man, but it would look bad if she did. As well, something about the young man seemed as if he would resent such actions. He just held the wand in his fist and walked back quietly to his place. Closing his eyes, he shed the first two and then two more tears. When he opened his eyes again, he was inhaling and exhaling extremely deeply and slowly. It was as if he was psyching himself up for something. For what, none of the Ministry members paid attention to.

Vik's wand responded to him almost infinitely better than how it responded to its original owner. Given the fact Vik Mournblade was eight years old, and this Ares Richard Keeferson was ten years old, one would not have truly expected that great a difference. However, within Vik's first few moments of holding the wand, he had managed to get three different reactions from his wand. So now where one boy was pleased as punch, the other boy looked as if he had just been punched.

Finally, the taller boy looked at the secretary. Something had clued into him, given the flash of insight. Looking around the room, he saw what he was looking for: one of the official's prized desk. Not that it was built by hand or raw sorcery, but he had taken it from one of the more important employees by way of his connections in the office.

"What is this wand made of again?" asked the ten year old to the secretary. Her smile was a genuine one. She breathed in and out slowly, expressing her fondness for the old wand.

"That wand... belonged to my son. He now since has a new one. His first Charms were done with that wand. It is made with thunderbird feather wand with a maple wood outlay. The wand's a particularly long one, though. Most young men tend to like the romance behind the thunderbird itself. None of them appreciate the bird it comes from, sadly."

"And he does not mind if I have it?"

The secretary smiled again at the now not-quite sullen youth. "He'd love it if the old wand saw new magic."

"Right then."

At that time, Keeferson looked at the smiling men of the Ministry of Magic, then at the desk. Twirling the wand once and then flipping it a full 360°, he tapped it against the wall twice. Nodding to himself, he turned to his friend Vik and his father.

"I'm ready to go now."

The desk fell apart into exactly seven pieces the moment that Keeferson left the room. The secretary had never needed to fight laughter so hard in her entire life.

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

(OOC: this post is about something Keeferson did a few years back. I am not certain exactly when within that school year he would have accomplished this. Then again, it doesn't matter as we aren't keeping a precise calender. Keeferson's thoughts will be reflected in this post only because of their prevalence to what he is working on currently. )


Looking At The Options Not Presented To You
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 12, second year of Hogwarts>


There were days Ares Richard Keeferson really didn't like people. There were a lot of days Keeferson really didn't like people. It just happened that at least half of those days were ones where he had Double classes. For those unfamiliar with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Double classes were when students from two different Houses were in the same class together. This would normally allow for intermingling that was not available in the regular classes. As one would expect, this also created an environment for mischief and mayhem - even in a class as feared as Double Potions.

Today was Double Defense Against The Dark Arts. The professor of the day, of course, was Gilderoy Lockhart. And Keeferson... already had a headache. The moment he walked in the doors, he felt the weight of Lockhart unrelenting grin blazing into the back of his brain. Being jostled by some of the other students, he found himself a desk at the farthest corner of the room from Lockhart himself - normally called the "Desk of Despair." Not many students used that specific desk, at least not since Professor Alastor Moody "accidentally" cast a spell which carved a rather indiscrete pattern on it... while there were still students sitting at it, chatting amongst themselves. Most of the girls from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were sitting as close to the front as possible, bedazzled by Lockhart's good looks and easy charm. The boys, not as cloyed, still chose to pay attention, but were hoping Lockhart didn't try to cast any spells. Professor Gilderoy Lockhart also had a reputation of having spells backfire in rather remarkable ways.

This day, Keeferson managed to be left completely alone... at first. In his mind, Lockhart started to slowly transform into wand-carrying version of Guy Smiley. The longer he talked, the more like a Muppet he became. It only took five minutes for the full transformation to occur in Keeferson's mind. He became so focused on the concept of a plush version of a teacher, he almost missed the note that was passed onto his desk. Looking down from within the hood, he put his arms on the desk as if fatigued. Now that the note was hidden from view, he was free to read it.

"Dear Freak Boy Scary-Britches," the note began. Keeferson smirked darkly to himself at this, figuring that it would be yet another death threat the professors would ignore.

"You are a menace to society and a freak of nature. You never show your face, nobody knows if you are afraid of sunlight or a werewolf, and you smell of elderberries. Seriously, you do. Who eats those, anyway? Birds or something like that? Anyway, on to the more important things - namely the fact you do all that helping out garbage for those sodding blaggarts in Slytherin. Why don't you do anything for students that could use assistance, you cobra-hugging cadaver-lover?

"Yours in sorcery,
"At least three of the girls here in Gryffindor.
"(you mingeing whinger.)"

Keeferson sighed and rolled his eyes underneath his hood. More haters, as usual. At least these ones were just annoyed with him aiding House Slytherin. This was not the first time he had received such a notice. However, it was the first time girls had written to him in Double DADA with such a thing. (He had been tagged for help with Potions and Arithmancy in the middle of DADA before, however.) Spinning the paper around a few times, he went back to listening to Professor Lockhart drone on about yet another one of his "adventures in the magical countryside." Keeferson was certain they were supposed to be learning about the tomb raiders and archeologists who documented the magical history of South America today. Sighing, his thoughts drifted off to his normal anti-Eurocentric sentiments.

"Mr. Keeferson!" Lockhart's voiced boomed through the class, startling him out of his reverie. "Can you perhaps tell the class about the general three reasons why the average seeker of ancient knowledge carries with him the five items mentioned in Chapter Five of 'Perilous Places And Yours Truly'? As I know you are one of the most avid readers in any of my Second Year classes this year, you should know this by heart?"

Keeferson actually blanked out. The first thing that came to his mind was "stab his eyes with a rusted and broken spoon." However, he managed to not say that out loud. Racking his mind for the answer, Keeferson coughed twice and softly. Shrugging slightly, the young Canadian import straightened his back to better his posture (and therefore his speaking voice. He was about to give the answer when Professor Lockhart had "a better idea."

"Actually, young Mr. Keeferson, could you come up to the front of the class? I would like for you to make sure all the other students have this in mind for the rest of the day. It is quite important that everyone has the same information as a studious-minded individual as you."

The smile was even louder than the voice. Keeferson wanted to pick up the desk and hurl it at Professor Lockhart, but the desks were bolted into the ground. (The fact there were two rows of students between him and Lockhart didn't occur to the young Hufflepuff until afterwards.) Rising from his seat in a rather brusque fashion, he slowly plodded towards the front of the class. The hood remained focus on the wall of the classroom directly in front of him. All the Gryffindors were snickering, figuring that Keeferson had been zoning out under his hood. The Hufflepuff students were already mourning the loss of -more- House points due to someone not being prepared in a class. (The previous day, Professor Snape had been particularly brutal.)

Turning to face the class, Keeferson did a bit of a stretch. The hood turned in the direction of Lockhart, who once again blinded the easily aggravated youth with one of his patented grins. Keeferson could hear the fauning sighs of the front row despite trying to block them out. Gritting his teeth, he waited until Lockhart gave him a most courtly bow to begin. Turning to face the class, everyone's least favourite Hufflepuff gave a complete textbook explanation, down to the emphasis, as written in Lockhart's books. Not that Keeferson liked the textbooks provided, but he didn't have much of a choice. (At least in terms of what he would be graded on. His own studies had already taken him decidedly off the beaten path.)

Lockhart's laughter and applause once again caught Keeferson off-guard. The girls in the front of the class joined in with the clapping, only to go along with Professor Lockhart's blatant merriment. The rest of the students made up the rest of the applause half-heartedly, even though many of the Hufflepuffs were secretly relieved. Keeferson was busy trying to figure out what he was going to ask next. Professor Lockhart had a habit of hitting him up with a double- or triple-whammy when he was least expecting it in class.

"Also, Mr. Keeferson, I wanted to ask you another question."

Keeferson's single thought: I bloody well KNEW he was going to pull this **** again...

"Yes, Professor Lockhart, Sir?"

Most of the students in the class tried not to snicker at Keeferson's overly formal response. Those that knew his general modus operandi were expecting an explosion. The many that did not were expecting him to kiss up as much as possible to Lockhart in order to avoid answering more questions. The three students who actually spoke with Keeferson expected neither. One of them was thinking Keeferson might "accidentally" drop a smoke potion-filled phial on the ground in order to duck out of the class. It wasn't entirely implausible, given Keeferson's distinct distaste for Professor Lockhart.

"Well, I also wanted you to explain the main two points in 'Break With A Banshee' that I covered about the dangers of wandering into unexplored tombs by yourself without proper preparation? I do see a number of future spelunkers and adventuring sorts here, and I would hate to see anything befall them which I couldn't keep them from."

Though his tone was grave, that remarkable 1000 gigawatt smile of Lockhart's never faltered. At least one of the girls in the second row audibly swooned. In his head, Keeferson was making gagging noises. Still on the spot, Keeferson answered as best as he could, only missing four words from the exact paragraph. (Later on, Keeferson would swear during his second year at Hogwarts that he was secretly brainwashed by Tylwyth Teg fae who secretly worshipped Lockhart as a god. Nobody believed that for a moment. The Tylwth Teg decided to look into Keeferson personally during his Fourth Year at Hogwarts, but that's another story...) The beaming glare from Lockhart's perfect teeth proved to Keeferson he had been close enough. Nodding once, he waited until Lockhart gave him permission to go and sit down again.

On his way back, statements such as "keener," "suck up," and "geek" could Keeferson hear from the other students. He didn't care, as long as they didn't bother him. His friends were not commonly in his year, nor in his House. And in his mind, everything that Lockhart had made him recite was already being rewritten. Instead of the concept of avoiding traps and wards, he was looking into how those same devices and runes were being created - a topic Gilderoy Lockhart would never mention in a "child-friendly" tome. There were a lot of things "Professor Heartthrob" would never have in his books... which were the very things Keeferson would be looking for. He figured he would start using the Lockhart books as a reference for the books he actually needed. After all, it wasn't as if DADA would be difficult with such a simpleton in charge, right...?

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

(OOC: for those wondering about Keeferson's recent swing of moods, here is a bit of background in posted form. Keeferson's recent string of "failures" has gotten to him in ways he should be paying far more attention to. and as things around him unfold and unravel, certain aspects within him are taking on new shapes completely their own.)


Fifty And One Fifth Choices To Make In Five Days
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


Keeferson sat in the Owlery, hiding away from everyone yet again. He did not want to speak with anything that had opposable thumbs at this point, for he knew what their responses would undoubtedly be. His thoughts were completely scattered and shattered, not able to focus on anything for very long. And since he knew attending class in this condition would be an utter farce at best, he made a silent getaway early in the morning from Hufflepuff Common Room.

Within the Owlery, Keeferson could be alone and yet surrounded with company. The owls who were not in pens or personalized cages flocked around him. Smiling a little, he fed them strips of different meats he had scrounged from the breakfast table. Adding a couple of treats for good measure, he made sure all of the owls were spoiled to some degree. Spending time with the owls had always been a calming thing for him. Keeferson himself had two owls, both of them named "Boots." If anyone had asked him why, he would have told them it was "a Canadian thing" and left it at that. The truth was he named the owls after a fictional character from a children's book series. The owls seemed to enjoy Keeferson's presence even when he wasn't spoiling them with food. This served Keeferson well, as there were more than a few nights he had spent hidden away from everyone within the Owlery late at night.

Keeferson was a disturbed and perturbed individual. On the one side of the pyramid, there were all the reasons that Keeferson should remain in the school. The people he actually cared about (such as Shacadia Shay, Mairead Roarke, Druppi Tallow, and others) were highest in that section. There was that fact he had only completed his Fifth Year of Magical Education. Not that he was particularly worried about that, as he could always go to the school that his friend Vik Mournblade was at currently, or the one that Siu Keuwn was. Not to mention there would be Liam, Talaitha, Tiernan and the others from "that side of life" he would be leaving behind.

The next face of the pyramid had all the very good reasons to leave Hogwarts - and in fact the entire continent. Highest on the list was -not- Seril Kane or Jinx Sinclair. In fact, it was not even Dolores Umbridge. The first thing on his personal list was his illness. Keeferson's attitude towards his health had never changed from the first day: "some day soon I am going to die." Even now, cleaning himself of all the chemicals, medications, and other such poisons within him was taxing. Hiding the worst of it from his friends and family had been fairly easy. Most of the time he coughed up blood, he was alone... and usually somewhere he shouldn't be. He did not even inform his family or the Canadian Ministry of "cleaning up his act," as he did not wish to worry them further. The next thing after his being sick was the cause of his illness... and his plans to remove the possibility of a repeat from the face of the earth. He knew perfectly well he could not strike at those responsible from the United Kingdom. Those people he encountered while still at Hogwarts were mere practice runs in his eyes.

On the third face of the pyramid, there was everything that gave him cause to doubt. These were the fluid and uncontrollable aspects of his life. His relationships with others were a high one, as they would constantly pull him from his goals. This was especially true with the young women in his life. Another huge factor were his dealings with the authorities in all of its forms. Whether they be professors within the school, Canadian Ministry officials, British Aurors, or other notable members of "power," they made him uncomfortable in his own skin. That alone made him especially unhappy. And with many things, his misery would often turn to rage. The rage in and of itself was there as well, bundled into almost everything else. He had almost turned on people he enjoyed speaking with on numerous occasion because of the surges of anger he faced. What was worse: the longer he tried to remain "humane" and civil, the darker these mood swings became.

And on the final open face of the pyramid, could Keeferson see his past and his future summed up in a single statement. Written in as many languages as he could read, the accusation would always burn against his skin:

"Here resides a Monster, who looked into the dark
"And within the shadows, could he hear a lark
"Reaching into nightfall, with his fingers long
"Did he pull back nightmares, his soul twisted and wrong"

He could never remember where he heard it from, or why. All he knew was that everything was going to crash in on him, no matter how hard he tried. And it was that essential futility that caused him to seek refuge now. Not wanting to look others in the eye, he knew the name for creatures like him:

Failure.

The tears fell unnoticed from his face for a good long while, at least until he heard the doors begin to open. Casting Disillusion on himself, he watched as two young couples stole into the Owlery, thinking themselves alone. Pocketing his wand, he stalked out silently in order to prevent them from realizing otherwise. The mood broken for him, he left the Owlery to return to his mercenarial pursuits. There were tomes to translate, weapons to categorize, and at least one Dark Wizard to hunt down and kill very slowly...

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

(ooc: a little snippet involving Keeferson... but without Keeferson in it - at least actively.)


Inaccurate Solutions From Chaotic Questions
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 14>


Some of the girls in Ravenclaw over the summer had decided to get together and enjoy a day. They varied in years from Second Year all the way up to Seventh Year. And as to be expected, there was a pecking order naturally selected by both scholastic year and social status. Surprisingly enough, it was one of the Fifth Year Ravenclaws who ruled the proverbial roost this time around.

"So then ladies, what shall we discuss?" began Marileina Cealczhu. "I mean, we only have a few weeks left before we have to go back to Hogwarts and the daily grind of classes. There are just so many things to plan ahead for. There are the dances, a few examinations, at least one strange independent study unit from Professor Vector, another one of those -surprise- tests from Professor Sinistra which is worth half of your marks only if you fail..."

"Well, Marileina," picked up Alice Templestone, "there is always the topic of boys and their effect on some of our fellow Ravenclaws."

"How do you mean," chipped in Olive Grassfeathers with eagerness, "the -effect?- Am I missing something here, as I thought all boys did was cause grades to go down if they were the wrong boy, or your blood pressure to go way up if they were the right one?"

"Olive, Olive, Olive. You think far too hard on the analytical aspects of boys. You really need to take a better look at what they can do for you outside of the classroom... or the `boardroom,' if you get my meaning. They have the potential to be quite inspiration, or at least amusing if you string them along with enough skill."

"That's because, Gloria Nuosliwa, some of us don't look at boys as products to be used and thrown away at leisure. Not that I really need to keep one of my own. Inside of Hogwarts, there are more than a few who seem more than willing and able to be a good little pet peeve with opposable thumbs for a couple of hours at a time. In the end though, I just don't see the need for them."

"Only because you like girls too much, Yusefina Marshalls. Oh, and how it breaks so many hearts for them to hear that. It's just painful to watch some of the guys crawling around verbally, begging you to change your mind about men. Why don't you just put some of them out of my misery and Stupefy them a few dozen times. It's not as if they are using those brain cells for anything important anyway, right?"

One of the younger girls, one Wilhemina Tomlinson, put up her hand at this point. Olive and Marileina both looked at her with calm and courtly smiles.

"Yes, Wilhemina? What did you want to say?" This was Marileina, as Olive was sipping on her firewhiskey on the rocks. (Nobody knew how Olive always managed to get the best booze to bring to these affairs. Nobody asked. They didn't want to jinx it.)

"What about that boy that everyone is always on about from Hufflepuff?"

"Which one, Wilhemina? There's quite a few boys inside of Hufflepuff that are worth discussing or dissecting verbally. There's Seril Kane, Jacob Green, Creed Wyldheart..."

"Keeferson. The tall one with the red eyes and the permascowl?"

"Keeferson? The Hufflepuff Hardcase? Most likely to turn into a dragon and try to eat Moaning Myrtle in a fit of pique? Why would we want to bring him up? This was supposed to be a fun day out. That boy just defines `Stress On A Stick.' Seriously, what made you think of him?"

"Uhm... Marta Chesfer seems to like him? So does Florymonde de Bellehache? And he gets along with that really tough girl Kylindra Valerine as well. I don't know about Lani Perian, though. I think they've crossed paths a few times before but I'm not sure."

"Marta Chesfer and Keeferson, eh? Well, not that I really like Marta or anything. Nobody really seems to, which is sort of odd as she's like the Ravenclaw version of Sierra Tillery. I can't say that anyone wants to challenge her in duelling though. She's as good as Brennan Brask in some ways, and that's saying something. Then again, Brennan Brask's a good chunk of Slytherin steak I wouldn't mind taking a bite out of..."

"Olive, that's disgusting."

"I'm sorry, Rosalita, what was that? Disgusting? Rosalita Berlin, aren't you the same girl that thinks that having Serin Tyin and Nikolai Faust in the same room with their shirts off is a -good idea?- You have no right to be judging on Brennan Brask. Both of those boys are frail and fickle. At least with Brennan Brask, you know exactly what you are getting your hands on..."

"Ladies, ladies! Back on topic here! Remember, we were forced to bring up Keeferson - a guy who nobody really knows the real name of. And since he took off that hood of his, at least we know what he looks like. Come to think of it, he's sort of looks like he's related to Creed and Brennan. I mean, what with the braids and the shoulder and all that."

"Gloria, you are only saying that because they all have the same hairstyle. If they didn't, you wouldn't think they looked related at all. You really need to come off that hair kick of yours. Sooner or later, you'll meet someone that you can't judge by their hair. And when you do, I'll be right there, pointing and laughing."

"Silence, blasphemer, or I'll have your tongue. It doesn't matter anyway what kind of hair that he has anyway, Miss Charlie Emerald Gregoronov. He's a muggle-born. I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole that you were holding. I have standards, and cavorting with someone that wouldn't make good husband material just doesn't cut it for me. I know that Alice over there wouldn't be making any dalliance with them either, now would you?"

"No, but that's because of my own prefereces. It has little to do with the status of his blood, and more his social status as a whole. Keeferson's crazy, doesn't have his own money, and has a motley crew of girls around him at any given time. That, and he's friends with Rosdion Nifien and Druppi Tallow... and Jacob Green for that matter. In short, he's pushed himself out of the winner's circle before he could even start the race."

"Don't know why you'd even let him run, Alice."

"Because, my darling Yusefina, you need to give the boys you want to have chasing after you something to work against. I mean, if you make it too easy for them, you might as well be a Hufflepuff. I mean, they give it up to anyone these days..."

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

(ooc: reflecting the roleplay that has occurred in the past two real life days.)


Exit, Stage Left And Then Enter, Audience Front Right
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


"Hey, Keeferson, I've been meaning to ask you something. Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, the most we'll be able to do is get this linked to the floo network for voice only. It's a rental, and a temporary one at that."

"It's fine, Tiernan. The fact you all are willing to do this for me is a big win on my side."

"Still though, lad. I mean, cleaning out all your things from Hufflepuff House and just stepping free and fancy like this. You know what you're doing? I mean, from how you say it, it's just some little adolescent personality clash and-"

"Aeronwy... It's my choice, right? It's my life? My decision as to how I feel and who I trust right?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then just let me do this alright? There'll be no damages I can't cover with the money I've been earning. There'll be no lavish parties. And I'll be sure to maintain both of the apartments you all are renting. The most that'll happen is maybe a few more disillusioned students crashing out here every so often."

"... And cheesecake?"

"Yes, Kaylie, there will be cheesecake."

"Yus!"

"Kaylie... you scare me."

"And you're cute, boyo. Here are the keys to the places. I'll let Perri and Liam know what you've done. Just remember, lad. If there's serious business to be done within either, that has to take priority."

"Understood, Aeronwy."

And with that, Keeferson was granted access to two apartments in muggle London. His eyes looked around the place to make sure that everything was in order. Nodding to himself with a sigh, he thought back to the past forty-eight hours of his life. A bitter smile came across as he thought of all those whom this affected... starting with Sierra Tillery. His friend - nix that, former friend (if she had ever been one to begin with) - who had unequivocally chose whom she would stand with when push came to shove. He had expected something different. Anything different than what had transpired. But what was done was done. He was not about to go back and beg forgiveness for being himself. He had been doing that for five whole years, and was not about to start that nonsense again.

The list of who would know about the apartments was a strange one. Ranging in students from First Year all the way to Seventh Year, and in all four of the Houses of Hogwarts. The fact most of them were young ladies never really occurred to Keeferson until now, however. Thinking back to all those Slytherin Siren Seven posters, he now laughed once more. So then, this is how he got this misbegotten reputation as some sort of a ladies' man. Oh, if they only knew the truth of it. There were only a few women in his life that received anything more than friendly hugs or kisses on the temples. Remembering the last kind words he said to Sierra made Keeferson scowl again. He did not want to remember her at all. He knew, however, that blanking her from his mind was not going to happen.

He recalled clearing out his things from Hufflepuff Boys Dormitory. Never did he realize how many things he had until he had to pack them all away. All those purchases inside of Knockturn Alley had paid off, as he managed to have everything stored away without a singular bulge. Trucking everything first to The Leaky Cauldron had been tricky, but he was known for unusual jaunts through the floo service inside of Hufflepuff anyway. By the time the last of his items were whittled away, none were the wiser for hours. That part made him smirk coldly, proving to him how little most of the members of Hufflepuff cared. He was certain by this time the next day, they would make his bed into a storage place for all the other youths in the dormitory. Not that he cared, because now he had something significantly better awaiting him.

The only thought he had in his head as he put everything away in a corner of the main bedroom of the first apartment was "I should have done this ages ago..."

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

(ooc: just something I thought of now.)


Kicking, Scratching, Clawing, and Burning Your Way To Kitchen Glory
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15>


Keeferson liked the kitchens inside of Hogwarts. Sure, it wasn't the same as being at home, but it was something. The one thing about the kitchens inside of the school was that they were huge - something someone like Keeferson would appreciate even at a glance. They were almost cavernous in their depths, able to feed over eight hundred people in a singular sitting. And it was here that Keeferson tended to make his "second home."

The Owlery was Keeferson's place to hide from people. The kitchens were where he was ruler of his own fiefdom. In the kitchens, he was lord and master of his own future for a few minutes or hours. And it was here Keeferson first mastered the cheesecake. Of course, there were a few attempts before he got it right, but that was fine. The group of First Years he had been tutoring in Second Year were more than happy to consume his "failures" as a prize for them doing well. This, of course, was back when Keeferson was merely dabbling at cheesecakes. By the end of his Second Year, however, he was making them as regularly as he made anything else.

And now, the cheesecake was The Cheesecake. Demanded by female Slytherins of all ages, it was Keeferson's main bribe when dealing with any young lady in emerald, lime, fern and/or jade hues. The Cheesecake had managed to keep various Seventh Year students from crushing him utterly with spells. It had also managed to earn him a reputation in some circles as "the guy to go to" when it came to planning out romantic picnics with your significant other (whether they knew they were significant or not). So at random occasions, Keeferson would find himself pulled aside to be "interviewed" as to what to bring to such an outing. The sad things were that not only was Keeferson not very good with anything romantic, but that he had never done such himself. Still, his creativity (and numerous hours on flights and in trains reading tawdry Harlequin paperback novels) managed to see him through those moments every time.

There was far more to Keeferson than cheesecake, though. Over the years, he had made quite a few things within the kitchens. Of course, at least one out of every five things had been made for or at the request of The Clique. That core group of four Slytherin women who had essentially been the start of Keeferson's rather twisted and tempestuous climb through school. Without The Clique's unsubtle guidance, Keeferson figured he might have had a slightly quieter life. Without The Clique's unwavering presence, Keeferson was certain he would have been less prepared mentally for some of the challenges that he ended up facing.

Something not as many knew about Keeferson was the fact he had conversations with the House Elves when he was working alone in the kitchens. In honest truth, he quite enjoyed talking with them while they were in the midst of making meals for the students. From observation alone, he learned how to do roast turkey, roast ham, and roast mutton. (It took him a few visits to get the timing just right, but his failures tended to become soups and meat pies, sandwiches and chunks for the birds to consume inside the Owlery.) And on rare occasions, he would end up showing the House Elves something new. Given the fact he started using cookbooks sent to him by owl on random occasions, something would eventually come up that one or more of the House Elves had not seen before. It was a matter of professional pride in some ways, that Keeferson give something back to them.

Within the kitchens, Keeferson felt as if he was touching dirt in the middle of High Park. He may as well have been at the corner of Yonge Street and Bloor Street in the middle of downtown Toronto some days, for all he cared. In those moments, he could forget everything - even his own plaguing sickness - until he had completed whatever he was working on. He could spend whole afternoons within the kitchens, even just doing homework or studying.

In the end, the kitchens were more than a room for Keeferson. For him, they were refuge away from the chaos of his regular life. He would be always sorrowful for some of his actions, but not all of them. And definitely nothing that got him more time doing what he loved.

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

(ooc: this is in regards to a recent “notice” posted around the school about Keeferson. This is what actually happened… not that he is really eager to tell everyone about it. This starts immediately after Keeferson leaves the apartment he has the ability to crash in. Tera Jallebin, Lani Perian, and Miriam Rovere all have been “introduced” to the first person mentioned in this tale.)


Distant Water Won't Help To Put Out A Fire Close At Hand.
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


Friyana Arshâma was, for lack of better explanation, perplexed. After meeting Ares Richard Keeferson for the first time, she wondered exactly what Liam Criedhne saw in him. Between being morose, depressive, sardonic, hostile, and homicidal, she could not see a singular good quality in him. The young man towered over her by half a foot, and he was apparently not even of the age of majority. Sure, she had teased him on it briefly, but she would not try to same gamble again. His lack of regard for human life was evident in the way he would storm into a rage verbally. Friyana, a former classmate of Consolantia Younan, was about as versed in Cantonese as she was in her native tongues of English (as she was born inside of Newcastle on Tyne, England) and Arabic. And what the enraged Canadian exploded with in the hallway of the apartment block was positively terrifying.

Letting him rant for a while longer, Friyana observed (and interjected) in the byplay between Keeferson, Miriam Rovere, Tera Jallebin, and Lani Perian. Noting their faces for later, she made it a point to keep her true purpose there a secret. She had actually gone to the apartment in order to find a few books on the Southern and Northern Dynasties of Ancient China, along with the Nara Period of Ancient Japan. The books were locked away in Scathach MacNessa’s strongbox in the room he kept for himself. Instead, she had run into “the ambulatory anthology” himself. She had only heard of Keeferson in passing. The live version had been so much more… dynamic than she had expected.

Apparating the pair of them away after the towering Hufflepuff student and Lani had their last comments with each other, she placed them fairly close to the outskirts of Wolverhampton . It was here she was supposed to rendezvous with some of the others, namely Brigette Shelchorme and one of the other Grailshine sisters, probably Jolyane Karaleigh Grailshine (known to just about everyone as JaiKai). Jolyane (or JaiKai) was one of the adopted Grailshine sisters, being also of Middle Eastern descent. Still, she was about as British as Sir Robert Peel of Great Scotland Yard. As the duo rolled up in a beat up Renault Mégane, Friyana took another look at the still scowling Keeferson.

“Oi, Arkady, if you are going to keep that up, we might as well just leave you here and you can walk back to your little boarding school. I’m not one of your little friends, so you should learn right quick to listen to what I tell you. Hey, wot? What are you bloody well doing?!?”

Keeferson had already turned on his heel and started walking in the direction of the closest buildings. The look on his face said everything: he had little concern for what Friyana wanted or for even what the job was. He was on his way home, no matter how long it took for him to reach there. Friyana pulled out her wand and was about to cast on the Canadian curmudgeon in sheer aggravation. JaiKai put her hand on Friyana’s arm and shook her head.

“Casting on the translator, even if you are one yourself, isn’t a good idea. My sister Kaylie likes this kid. Remember as well, Liam’s whole crew’s effectively adopted the chappie as one of their own. Brimstone and bulldozers on you if you tag the lad now. Why don’t you like let Brigette handle it? She’s worked with him before. She knows how to redirect the rampaging razorback as it were, you know what I’m sayin’ there?”

Friyana looked at the steadily decreasing size of Keeferson. For a young man, he walked pretty fast. Nodding to JaiKai, she watched as Brigette drove the car up to cut off the incensed juvenile before he got any farther away. Getting out of the car, Brigette immediately went over to Keeferson, saying something Friyana and JaiKai were too far away to hear clearly. It couldn’t have been any good, as the very stance of Keeferson changed completely. Finally, he walked around to the driver’s side back door and got inside. The slam was audible all the way where Friyana watched JaiKai wince.

“I think BeaGea told Arkady there the bad news to begin with.”

“What bad news? I was told we had a dual translation job. What soddin’ bad news are you muttering about, JaiKai?”

“One of the clients decided to try out one of the incantations themselves right after you left, actually. Something exploded, and now Aeronwy’s hurt something horrible. I mean, Consolantia and Tiernan are both looking over her, but it’s not as if we can take her to St. Mungo’s and get her all dolled up, you know what I mean? That, and we’re not dealing with any of the back alley sawbones around these parts. Liam’s right cross with the client, and Perri looked like she was going to strangle the man.”

The car arrived beside the talking women, passenger side presented to them both. Keeferson’s sullen voice echoed from his corner, while looking straight ahead at nothing.

“Get. In.”

Friyana was about to tell this whelp what for, but JaiKai shook her head silently.

“No, Friyana. He’s translator, basic medic, and a few other things besides for Liam’s crew. They’re all right tight like a night flight, you readin’ me here? You hurt one of them, you’re askin’ for a mob of mangy murderers at your door. Seriously, rare t’see anything like it. The whole thing’s sort homely like.”

JaiKai took the rear passenger side seat, keeping Friyana on the “kitty corner” to Keeferson. The drive to where everything was going down was mostly silent in terms of voices, the music from the stereo system blasting the entire 75 minute trip. The moment that they arrived, Keeferson dragged his bag out of car, and waited by the door. Brigette turned off the car, joining JaiKai and Friyana, waiting as well for someone to answer the main doors of the manse.

It was a harried looking Perri who opened the door. Without a word she ushered them all inside. Placing some scrolls in JaiKai’s hands, she directed Friyana and Brigette to one room, JaiKai to a second room, and Keeferson over to where Aeronwy was gasping for breath. The worry on the face of Tiernan and one of the other men there was blatant. Not that Keeferson knew the other man, nor cared to, but he asked him first what had transpired in all detail. Taking out a series of potions, he was talking with the man (who went by Korinthian Taira) about the accident itself. Nodding and probing for other information, Keeferson silently instructed Tiernan about the order of the potions to be used and where.

Aeronwy’s breathing began to ease after the first potion, but Keeferson spent a full hour by Aeronwy’s side until she was able to sit up on her own. Tiernan’s grief had changed into relief and was well on its way to rage when they were confronted the main client and his friends. It could have been worse, but it was Keeferson who expressed to the client about how dangerous certain artifacts and items were, which is why it was best left to those trained to handle such things to check them out beforehand. It was, of course, why the client was paying for them to begin with. Haphazard actions would be costly, at best, and definitely not show off his status and cultured savvy.

Tiernan just nodded silently to Keeferson, as Aeronwy sat up in Tiernan’s arms. All the while Friyana and Brigette were looking in on the injured Aeronwy. Keeferson’s removing an extra black t-shirt from his bag and handing it to Aeronwy made Brigette smile… and Friyana scowl. She could not make heads or tails of the young man. Perri saw this and smirked over at Consolantia. The young woman with the nickname Ereshkigal nodded back to Perri. If anything, Keeferson was a conundrum.

The next three hours were spent doing translations – as swiftly as possible. Keeferson worked on one pile, and Friyana worked on a second pile. Most of the inscriptions were to the point and concise, making the writing a breeze. It was the second stage which was taking more time – where Perri, Liam, Tiernan, and Consolantia were matching the translations to the items themselves. Keeferson didn’t even offer to help, so focused was he on his section. Aeronwy at random occasions would ask him to stop and read over his work, just to ensure the spelling and pronunciation guides were exact. This was a good thing, as while Keeferson (and Friyana) could read Chinese characters, most of the others – including the clients – could not.

As they were finishing up at long last, Keeferson stretched out his limbs. Sharing quiet words with Aeronwy and Liam, he made sure to clean up all his rough notes, filing them in alphanumerical order, and leaving them in a neat pile on one of the coffee tables. He also left behind three quills and two containers of enchanted inks, just in case. It was here an owl flew in, landing on the shoulder of Friyana. Reading through everything, she cursed a quiet storm until Consolantia went over to her.

“It’s my cousin’s friends, ‘Sola. They got themselves thrown into a muggle jail and are being held there. Sure, they could use magic to bust themselves out but there’s cameras and all sorts of stuff in that place. What the hell do they expect me to do about this mess? I don’t deal with gendarmes of any sort if I can help it. Can’t one of your friends here do something?”

“Friyana… Have you thought of what you are asking? You think Liam’s going to have Tiernan over there roll up, knock out a few people, and blow up a wall or something like that? It doesn’t work that way. Look, the only way they are going to get out of there is the standard way… what ever that is. Do you even know what they did?”

“Speeding. Doing bloody 70 in a 50 zone or something like that. The car’s been impounded and the friends are sitting in some cell somewhere rotting bloody away.”

“This isn’t the Dark Ages, Friyana. This is modern day England , and occasionally they do let people enjoy their rights as human beings. You know, you might want to get someone a little more used to dealing with muggles on the job there.”

“Like whom?”

“Like Arkady.”

“You want me to trust the well-being of people my relatives care about to that blood thirsty freak?”

“In a word, duh! Yes, Arkady is the perfect choice for it. Not only is he used to muggle ways, he’ll probably have muggle money available to him. You know, for that thing known as `bail’ that will be brought up. You did say it was a minor offense, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“Take Arkady. Let him do the talking. Just feed in where you need to.”

“…”

Friyana was furious. She was about to have someone who had proven himself only good for healing the sick and scaring the unwary get people she didn’t even know out of jail. She still wanted to blast him with a spell or three for daring to turn his back on her. Even if she DID say she was about to leave him behind, she felt slighted. Her pride had been stepped on, by a boy slightly over half her age.

Consolantia had been talking with Aeronwy (who by then was well enough to stand on her own). Nodding to each other, Aeronwy then spent some time trying to smooth Friyana’s ruffled feathers along with Tiernan. The young man Korinthian was talking with Keeferson about the final translations when Consolantia gently moved Keeferson away to have some private words with him. Brigette ended up sliding over to Korinthian, as she had been observing his interactions with the clients and the translators since they returned. If Keeferson could have created a thundercloud over his head, he would have. Obviously, the conversation between him and Consolantia was not going well. In the end, he just nodded to her. The stern look on her face brooked little argument, even from someone as volatile as the towering youth.

Walking over to Friyana, he looked down at her from his lofty height and adjusted his glasses.

“Apparently you need help extracting people from a disturbing situation. I have school to get back to, so this should be on the way. Let’s get going, as I would rather do this before 9:00pm when the night shift comes on. I really don’t need to deal with police officers in a foreign country who are cranky as all let out and beatstick happy.”

JaiKai did her utmost not to burst out laughing hearing how Keeferson phrased that. Brigette didn’t get the joke until much later. Brigette (looking a little worriedly at the glowering Keeferson) and JaiKai drove Friyana and the aggravated Canuck back to the preferred Apparation point. Keeferson took off his regular glasses and put on a different set. Reaching into his Bag of Swag™ and throwing on a tie, he nodded to himself. Checking his timepiece, he turns to Friyana.

“Right then. Let’s get these people of yours and then we can be done of each other.”

Friyana’s response was to reach up, grip Keefeerson by the shoulder, and Apparate the pair of them away to Sheffield . JaiKai simply shook her head as the duo disappeared from view. Sighing, she looked at Brigette with a sad smile.

“That boy… He really needs to learn how to not be so tense all the time. Kaylie said I can’t even snap into him like a Slim Jim. Crying shame, really…”

As they appeared in an abandoned school lot, Friyana looked around for witnesses. Keeferson didn’t even bother concerning himself. Brushing himself off, he looked for the nearest street.

“Where are your friends going to meet us?”

“They’ll pick us up at.. hey! Where you going?”

“You need to send them a message, don’t you. We’ll cab it to someplace less remote or bus or something. Not staying around here unless they were already on their way.”

“These are-“

“Look. I’m doing this because I have to. That doesn’t mean I’m going to sleepwalk my way through this mess. First, I need real money, not wizarding coin. Second, I need to know what kind of money I’m going to need, because bailing people out isn’t cheap. Third, I need to know where the Hell I am and where the Hell your friends are. Not going to waste time doing absolutely nothing. Your friends are girls, right? They'll know how to find us if we give them a street corner and a shop. Do they drive?"

"What the-"

"Do they drive? Yes or no?"

"Yes, you little **********, they ******* drive."

"Good. Oh look, a cab. That's our chariot. We're getting out of -here- and going somewhere that looks like bloody civilization."

The taxi cab driver was an amiable older gent who spent most of the time chatting up Friyana. Keeferson for his part just asked for "the best place to catch a movie on this side of the city." Being let off at the theatre itself, Keeferson paid the man and tipped him handsomely. While Friyana called her cousins from a pay phone, Keeferson hit his muggle bank account and pulled out what he hoped would be enough British pounds to cover getting two young women out of jail for speeding. As it turned out, the fine was twice of what he had originally taken. This required a separate phone call... overseas. Keeferson loaded up the payphone with all the change he had on him before using his access card to cover the rest. Friyana had asked why bother being honest about it, but Keeferson only said one thing:

"Less attention of any kind we bring to ourselves, the better. Yes? Yes."

Friyana almost slapped him there, but when she saw how much money he was accessing for people who she herself barely knew, she changed her mind. Her cousins arrived in a rather sporty Audi sedan. As the pair left the car and hugged her, they took one very LONG look at Keeferson and...

"Arkady?!?"

"... ****." (This, of course, was Keeferson's first response. If he had been smoking, the cigarette would have fallen out of his mouth.)

"Friyana? You know Arkady Chung-Lei?"

"Today I do. And I've regretted even waking up. Okay, let's get your friends out of the spot they've gotten themselves into. Been told that apparently the Shadow Sloth here is an expert in getting people out of trouble they've gotten themselves into. So before I strangle him, we need to get that move on."

"... Whatever." (Once again, Keeferson at his articulate best.)

"Arkady! Don't give me that. It's Edmée and Marjolein - you know you know who they are. And don't give me that look either. Look, if anything this'll pay off all your bad debts your boys keep earning for you. Don't even try to give me that look, either. It's not my ******* fault your friends are a bunch of scandalous shirt-tails."

Getting in the car, Keeferson slammed the door shut.

"Just bloody drive. I want this night to be over."

Keeferson then proceeded to look out the window of the car, speaking to none inside. His thoughts were as far from the three young women in the car as physically possible. For their part, Friyana and her two cousins were busy catching up on what had transpired over the past seven days. Arriving at the police station, Keeferson put on a tired smile and stepped out of the car itself.

"Just. Act. Relieved."

Turning to go inside, he was followed by Friyana. Acting as if they were high school chums, they left Imtithal and Qudsiyah by the car. Keeferson made the paying out of the bail - and the fine - into a complete spectacle on purpose. He made just enough noise to make all of the on-duty staff really believe he was hard pressed financially to cover this "horrific miscarriage of justice" and only doing it because "I love my friends just that much." A couple of the officers made some snide remarks about how well-dressed Keeferson was. His reply to them was so inspired, a few of the other people there (including a few unfortunates there for processing) jeered at the cops. His face set in righteous indignation, he made sure to keep up the act for as long as it took to get the girls out and in the clear.

"Just pretend everything's cool, alright?" Friyana whispered to the girls. Edmée and Marjolein only nodded, having no clue as to who Friyana was, or why this Hogwarts student they had already sent nasty notices to was bailing them out. Still, they didn't look the gift horse in the mouth and used the opportunity to the fullest. Once outside, Imtithal and Qudsiyah joined the "celebration" and offered to drive everyone home. Shaking his head, Keeferson kissed the hands of the four young women, making sure the police officers by the doors could see him doing such. Turning and leaving with Friyana, his quiet reminders to the four young women that all his debts were paid were said through smiling lips.

Friyana Apparated Keeferson back to London, eight hours after this had all began. Taking his leave of Friyana, Keeferson found the quickest way back to The Leaky Cauldron. Thousands of British pounds poorer, without a key to the flat Kaylie and Scathach owned, wanting to fireball an entire city, and extremely tired, Keeferson managed to floo into Hogwarts' Hufflepuff Common room around 5:30am. Without a word to any of the shocked witnesses, he found his way to the bed assigned to him and passed out.

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

(OOC: hrm. Let’s see how this one rides out, shall we? Had an idea about Keeferson and his life earlier on yesterday evening. And then it extended over to today. So now, I am going to try to combine the two different miniature events in his life into one post.)


Dirty Cleaners With Soaking Deserts And Parched Oceans
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


After dealing a rather upsetting situation, Keeferson decided to spend at least half of the day away from just about everyone he knew. The last people to see him around were Melissa Kane, Angerona Gawdessa, and Tera Jallebin. Vanishing into the crowds of Chinatown, he made it a point to leave the sections of London he was familiar with. If nothing else, if he could not find himself, he wanted to make sure nobody else could.

Three hours he spent walking through London , not stopping anywhere for longer than twenty minutes. And even those stops were not his typical ones. Before, it would be computer shops, music stores, and fast food places that would grab his attention. Now, it was dressmakers, cobblers, and stores without a real facing. He would wander in, check out what they had available, perhaps ask a few questions, and then drift out the way he came. There was no rhyme nor reason to his path, only that he kept moving.

“And right now, what would I be doing… Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws, I think. Not missing much there. Never learn anything I haven’t been forced to write an essay about already.”

Keeferson kept going. Running into a group of students from a local secondary school, he bluffed his way though explaining himself. The young men laughed at his accent, while the young women were curious about his choice of clothes. Eventually, the boys were thwacked by the dames as their galling commentary about “his Yankee accent” got on their last nerves. Keeferson managed to keep a level head throughout all this, only by thinking of how hard it would be to bail himself out of truancy detention.

The young women eventually parted ways with the boys, both groups apparently doing the same thing Keeferson was: avoiding school. The almost uniform-like clothes the young men were wearing pretty much solidified it for the Hufflepuff Hardcase. The girls decided they were going to take a shining to the towering Canuck, and carted him along on their shopping trip.

Please note: they were going to cart Keeferson along whether he wanted to go with them or not. And he didn’t. He really and truly did not. It’s a Byzantine scandal that the young women didn’t care what he wanted. He was going to be their token male for their outing, and that was the end of it.

Keeferson had never been to Brent Cross Shopping Centre in all his time going back and forth through London , England . Apparently, there had been a reason for it. With the young women from Plumstead Manor All Girls Secondary and Northbrook C of E Secondary, Keeferson found himself on the London Underground for an unknown amount of time. Coming back to the surface (and thanking the saints for sunlight), Keeferson found himself in the largest shopping centre he had been to inside of England .

Four hours later, the young Canucklehead was carting at least fourteen bags and seven boxes out of the mall itself. He recalled that all of his purchases were in his Bag of Swag™, so he could not lose track of them. The young women piled into a series of taxi cabs. All of them kissed his cheek goodbye, at least two slipping him their numbers. It was only after they left he realized three things: he had NO idea how to get back to Diagon Alley, he was completely out of regular money, and… he was absolutely certain two of them had rifled through his pockets. Checking his wallet, he noted that even his emergency funds were gone.

Cursing himself for being a fool around girls (again), he thanked the saints for small favours: they had not touched his bank cards as they were all Canadian banks. The problem was, of course, that the regular banking agencies were closed. Apparation was out, as he didn’t know it. And using magical funds around this area was useless. Instead, Keeferson went back into the mall and returned the one item he had purchased for himself (in cash). Explaining it to the shopkeeper was embarrassing, not the least of which was the scolding he received from the older man – in a thick Welsh accent, no less.

Using the change from the return, he called the apartment. Fortunately for him, Kaylie was there and offered to Apparate to the mall itself (which apparently she was very fond of) to get him. She also brought Keeferson a charge card which he could load up with his own money at a later date. Scolding Keeferson (yet again) for not paying attention around women, Kaylie made sure to get him a few new outfits.

“After all,” Kaylie mused while Keeferson struggled in out of sports jackets, “if you are going to be seen around me, you have to look presentable.”

From Brent Cross Shopping Centre, Kaylie Apparated them over to Chinatown ’s west side. Keeferson had made a specific request to do such, as he need to make a few purchases. His first move, however, was to go to a bank along the way that did remain open until later hours. He never asked how this bank got permits for such; there are some things you never ask about in Chinatown . Keeferson strolled with Kaylie all the way to his favourite three watch stores to peruse. Once inside, he made a surprising purchase of watches, having a private conversation with each of the storeowners. Leaving the watches behind, he knew he would receive them on the following day.

On the way back, Keeferson picked up a few things for the apartment on his dime for Kaylie and her sisters (whenever they chose to crash there). She first Apparated with Keeferson to the apartment, and then she Apparated Keeferson to the Leaky Cauldron where they parted company. Keeferson, tired from all the walking and shopping to distract him, staggered through the floo systems into Hufflepuff Commons around nine o’clock in the evening with a scowl on his face. None of those few who were around had any idea of the “adventure” he had that day, which suited him just fine. Going to bed after a late night shower, Keeferson hoped the next day would be better.

* * * * *

The next day, Keeferson spent a significant amount of time in the early morning conversing with people. One of the most interesting talks was with a small group of Ravenclaws, the current female Ravenclaw prefect, and one of his “personal charges.” At the end of the conversation, Keeferson made certain that all of his affairs were in order before leaving the school again.

What had woken Keeferson up that morning was a small group of owls, each of them with parcels they were watching over. And watching over the owls was a pair of falcons with ochre-tipped feathers. Knowing which vendors inside of London ’s Chinatown had wizards running them was a useful thing. He had his friends Qianxiao and Siu Keuwn from back in Toronto to thank for that. He was absolutely certain they were related in some way, but he refused to devote time thinking about it. The timepieces had all been enchanted to work perfectly in a magical environment. (Even with his discount, they had cost him quite a bit of change to acquire.)

Before he had managed to get showered and dressed, the owls and falcons left, but there was still one unopened envelope on his bed. Not knowing where it had come from, he had used a blade and gloves to cut open the side of the envelope. Seeing the letter itself was wax sealed had set off alarm bells in his head. Problem was, he knew that seal. Breaking it, he regretted opening it. Apparently his day had been booked for him… by Friyana.

If he could have stabbed someone through parchment, he would have. Friyana had somehow “Scheduled” him to meet some people already knew were from the London Academy of Magic at 10:00am. He knew the location as to where thanks to a conversation he had with Talaitha and Aeronwy once. Still, to him it smelled like a setup.

Reaching the meeting point, he found himself dealing with three damsels from the newest rival school to Hogwarts. Not that he had any loyalty to Hogwarts in and of itself, but he already knew what the London Academy of Magic stood for to him… and he wasn’t at all pleased to have to deal with their students even if it was distinctly off-the-record. Their request for him had been a simple one: acquiring certain potion ingredients and spell scribing ingredients. Given three days, it would be a cinch.

They had demanded it be done in three hours.

If it had been up to Keeferson, he would have told them where to go and how to get there… figuratively speaking. However, they even had a sealed notice from Consolantia for the now irate Canuck to take the job seriously. More insultingly, they demanded he do it all for absolutely nothing, as they shouldn’t have to “pay a common go-boy for errands he should already be doing.”

That almost got them all killed.

Fortunately (for the trio), two other young women walked up right at that time. One of them was Friyana herself, the other was Kaylie. Kaylie, being one of the few people Keeferson was shorter than, placed a retaining hand on his shoulder. Friyana was smirking at Keeferson, telling him that he needed to do this as a “favour” and that it wouldn’t be a problem at all for him. The only thing that kept him from stabbing Friyana’s eyes out in public with a bent spoon was Kaylie’s whispering into his ear.

As Keeferson left the table, knocking over the chair he was sitting on in a fury, Friyana’s parting words barely reaching his ears. Keeferson spun around to unleash a torrent of cursing, only to see Friyana and one of the girls get smacked in the back of the head by Kaylie. –HARD.- The bloodthirsty visage of righteous indignation on Keeferson’s face lasted for the rest of the hour.

The young man ran through Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley using Invisibilty Potions and Haste Potions. He knew what it was doing to his immune system and his stamina and... just didn't have the patience. At this time, all he wanted to do was get the job over with. Each place he visited was one he had made deals with previously. Even his stop at Gringott's to get all the funds required was done swiftly. Not a single person was dealt with harshly, though most of them did have words for Keeferson about the overuse of potions. He waved them off, telling them that some people expected miracles and then demanded others to make them happen.

At the end of the three hours, Keeferson rented a room in a lower-class motel at the edge of Diagon Alley. The place even charged by the hour, but it had a bath that was clean - which was all Keeferson wanted. Showering himself off, he changed his clothes into one of the outfits that Kaylie had made sure he get the night previous. Finishing in less than half an hour, he paid for another two hours... and then found some people in the lobby who were counting their coins and told them to take the rest of his time. They thought he was being generous. All Keeferson was doing was replacing his tracks with theirs.

Sending off an owl for Kaylie to meet up with him at The Leaky Cauldron, Keeferson trudged his way back. He wasn't willing to use any more potions, already feeling the pull on his chest. Once there, Kaylie Apparated with him to an abandoned car dealership two blocks away from the official meeting point. Hiring a taxi cab, they arrived fashionably late, with the trio of witches from the London Academy of Magic fuming, and Friyana checking her watch in annoyance.

"You get what you pay for."

Dropping the seven packages on the table, he turned his back on the four young women and walked away. Kaylie made sure he didn't turn around, given the hostile intent rising from him. Friyana looked mildly impressed at the packages: everything had been acquired, in the quantities requested. Even items that were not normally available to regular wizards because people hated harvesting the ingredients. The trio of witches squealing in delight failed to notice Friyana's gaze turning to them in contempt until it was too late.

"You three... never, EVER contact me again for something like this," said Friyana coldly. "You have cost me dearly in terms of the respect I've earned for myself. So you know, any debts real or imagined that my cousins AND their friends had with you are now paid off in full. You try to bring up a single thing from yesterday going backwards with them, and you get to try to tell Mumsie and Dadsie how far in debt you got yourself because you were too bloody lazy to get everything through them.

"I swear, I have no idea what that school of yours sees in the three of you. Whatever it is, must be worth far more than your weight in wizarding gold. Considering you only needed three of the fourteen things on that list of yours, the fact that sodding freak found every rotschaven thing on that parchment is nothing short of a miracle. Don't even think about trying to raise any sort of clamour about it either. Anyone finds out you were dealing with a mudblood from Hogwarts, your reputation dives right through concrete. You three understand me? Good. Now get going."

Friyana watched Keeferson and Kaylie disappear into the crowd. She had a report to write to Jayshree, and it was going to be a long one.

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

\\ ooc:

until further notice, all threads I was RPing through are now closed.
don't worry, everyone.
you'll no longer need be bothered by me.

- mozenwrathe

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