OOC: This is an open RP, friends/acquaintances/enemies of Joki post appropriately at will.


Joki Wilde walked into the Slytherin common room, a fashionably scruffy duffle bag over one shoulder and her book bag on the other. Seeing the room was empty, the small girl with neon green hair set her bags on the floor and lit a cigarette. The stone walls of the Slytherin common room mirrored her mood – cool, silent, and immovable.

She took in the room’s furnishings, tracing the green serpent on the Slytherin crest with a fingertip. Footsteps sounded behind her. She flicked the cigarette away and it disappeared before it hit the ground. Looking over her shoulder, she saw only the shadowy, silver gore-spattered figure of the Bloody Baron. He glided into the next room, and Joki lit another cigarette and moved to read the postings on the Slytherin bulletin board.

Her green eyes skimmed over assorted articles and rules, resting for a moment on a poster about some study group, then continuing on. There was little to interest her. Holding the cigarette in her lips, she bent and picked up her bags and went to the girl’s dorm.

Not bothering to turn on the light, Joki shoved her bags under the first empty bed she came to and lay on her back on the mattress. She lifted the cigarette to her lips for one last drag, and then threw it away. The cigarette disappeared as the first one had. Crossing her arms behind her head, she closed her eyes and wished for the hundredth time that she had been born into a different family.

OOC: Yes, annnnnnnnd I'm the dork who forgot to log in before I posted

The tree trunk was rough and solid at her back, the ground cold beneath her. Joki shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. The prefect, From, had threatened her with detention half a dozen times already for smoking in the school. A year had already passed since she had come to Hogwarts, and she had learned to come outside to smoke, simply to avoid the hassle. Tendrils of smoke trailed from the cigarette in her lips and curled into ephemeral serpents above her. She tilted her head back to look at the night sky. Cold shafts of moonlight filtered through the leaves of the tree.

In the stillness, she allowed herself to think about home. Her parents wrote dutiful, polite letters every few weeks as good parents should. Half of them she threw away unopened. They were always the same- Work hard, make good friends, make us proud . . . She wondered why they even bothered, when any chance of her making them proud had died a year before she even came to the school.

She thought about her brother, how ecstatic he would have been to be here. With the thought came a pain so fresh it was still raw. The wind stirred the leaves as if it knew her thoughts.

"Adam . . ." Joki whispered to the night, her voice hollow, her eyes feverishly bright, "I don't care what I have to do. I'll find you."

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

Another night, another chance to burn one. Joki sat near the Quidditch field, back braced against her favorite tree. She stuck a lit cigarette in her mouth and inhaled deeply. The smoke filled her lungs and she felt the familiar calm setting in. This was her time for solitude, to think or plan or to just be; and tonight she needed it more than ever. She couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her as she thought of what she had done a few hours before.

Every evening after dinner she would lock herself in her dorm room with any books or resources she had been able to find on the art of necromancy. She didn’t know if she would be punished for having such things, but she figured they probably wouldn’t be welcomed. Night after night she had read and worked and tried to apply the things she had learned, hungrily seeking some way to make contact with her beloved brother. Tonight something had finally happened, and now there was no chance of turning back. She felt the sick dread again that had filled her when she had spoken the words of the ancient charm, and the Shadow had appeared before her. The phantasm said not a word, just stared at her with its chilling undead eyes and waited on her command. The thing was not Adam- she felt sure of that. But maybe someday it could lead her to him. If she had the courage to ever summon it again. She lit another cigarette.

Across the grounds she saw a shadow move, a great feline shape that wound itself in and out of the darkness. It passed by, and Joki heard the distant creaking of the school doors. Odd that a familiar would be out without its keeper.

An hour passed. Joki was still leaning against her tree, eyes half closed and a cigarette in her lips when she saw a shadow that didn't look right. She opened her eyes wider and pulled the cigarette from her mouth, suddenly very awake. A hulking figure stood leaning against a tree opposite her. Probably filch, she thought with an inward groan.

The shadow detatched from the tree and glided toward her, stopping a few feet in front of her. The moonlight was bright enough that she could tell the figure was a male wearing Hufflepuff colors. His face was concealed by the hood he wore. "Can I help you?" Joki finally asked.

He made a slight gesture to the cigarette in her hand. "Can I get one of those?" He asked in a deep voice.

Joki looked him up and down warily. "Filch send you?" she asked.

He made a sound that was either a grunt or a laugh. "I'm nobody's lackey."

"No, you're just a Huff," Joki taunted. "Your blond little snot of a prefect gave me detention. Thank her for me." Sticking her cigarette back in her mouth, she handed the student another and tossed him her lighter. He promptly tossed the lighter back and snapped his fingers, a spark jumping from his fingertips to light the cigarette in his mouth. Joki gave a grudging nod of appreciation.

The light from the spark had briefly illuminated his face, revealing dark skin and strong features within the hood.

The boy inhaled, coughing a little on the first few drags but then doing well for what was obviously his first cigarette. After a few minutes he took the cigarette in the fingers of his left hand and extended his right to Joki. "Name's Creed Wyldhart."

Joki looked at his outsretched hand for a moment, then shook it briefly. "Joki Wilde."

Creed smirked, "Interesting last name."

Joki rolled her eyes. "Funny statement from you, 'Wild-heart'."

Creed gave a slow wicked grin. "Not just my heart that's wild . . ."

Before Joki could make her retort, Lucian suddenly apparated between the two. Lucian and Creed exchanged heated words, while Joki stood by watching and smoking in silence. Apparently Lucian grew tired of the argument. He knocked Creed to the ground and cast Petrificus on the younger student. Then Lucian turned to Joki. "Was this guy bothering you?"

She gave him a cold stare. "Interesting question, coming from someone who just butted in unwanted and turned my smoking buddy to stone. You really should have one of these and chill out." She extended her half-burned cigarette to Lucian who declined with a shake of his head and a smirk.

"No thanks. And my mistake."

Joki's green eyes glittered with rage. "Mistakes . . ." she said slowly, "kill more people than cigarettes, you know . . ."

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

A few weeks after the run-in with Creed and Lucian, Joki lay in her bed in the girl's dorm. No matter which way she turned, she couldn't get comfortable. Rolling over onto her back for the twelfth time, she reached under the bed with one hand and pulled a cigarette and lighter from her purse. She had learned a simple spell to keep the smoke from drifting under her door and into the rest of the dorm, and thus had been able to keep up her habit in relative peace.

She stared up into the darkness as she smoked, one arm behind her head. As always, her thoughts turned to her brother. Even for twins, they had been unusually close. While Adam was alive it had never occurred to Joki that they might someday be seperated. The thought was inconceivable to her then. They were friends, playmates, confidantes; they were very different but also very much alike. And now he was gone, and the pain of the loss still took her breath away. She had to find him somewhere, somehow.

The Shadow was still the closest she had come to making contact with the other side. Still it seemed useless. The thing would come when she called, fight any creature that Joki came across in her search for potion and scroll ingredients, and leave when she asked. So far she had been unable to make it do anything other than that. Yet she still felt that she was close. It was maddening. She needed help, but whose? Who could she possibly trust with a secret as dark as this?

The questions swirled on and on in her mind, as she finished the cigarette and tried in vain to get some sleep.

As Creed meandered back to his common room, he breathes a frustrated sigh. After having yet to see a Prefect that night, he roamed the dungeon halls without the worry of an annoying run in with one of them. He yawns as he made his way to the giant bowl of fruit. He sleepily reaches out and he wiggles his pointer finger just under the stem of the pair. The pair giggled profusely and the painting opened with a creek. He made his way through the kitchen, through the set of doors, and into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

He slowly scanned the room and made his way to the fireplace. He slumped into the recliner and breathed a relaxed sigh. His eyes trace towards the fire, he stares into it as he slips into a slight trance.

He thinks of the brief conversation he had with Joki Wilde earlier that night. They conversed over a cigarette or two, and he, Creed, had bluntly confronted her about the smeared eye make-up, most likely due to a tear or two, that he had commented about two nights ago. She had naturally denied it and he perused, but Joki became hostile and snapped at him. He shrugged and said his goodbyes and made his way to the common room.

Now he sits in the recliner, staring into the fire, thinking. The thought of Joki brought the act of smoking to his head. He glances around again to make sure no one was present and he pulls out the unnaturally light cigarette box. He quietly curses at the thought of the lack of a cigarette, before shaking the box. The silence from the box he had been dreading, came true. He sighs again, frustrated as he crushes the box in his hand and angrily tosses the empty box into the fire. As the box begins to ignite, he stands slowly to make his way to his common room, and mutters: "Stubborn girl..."

All is quiet as Creed slowly drifts off to sleep in his Hufflepuff Common Room Dorm. A warm glass of milk stands half empty on his night stand as he drifts off to sleep.

Creed sees himself, standing with Joki, on the grounds of Hogwarts. Joki, is sitting in her usual place, under a tree, smoking a cigarette. Creed is watching himself, from the third person, standing next to her, also smoking. As he approaches nearer to himself and Joki, he can begin to hear the sounds of conversation.

"No, I don't always snap at you when you ask about why I am upset!" *she snaps at Creed, who is smoking*

"Fine fine..." *the smoking Creed says as he inhales and blows smoke out of his nostrils*

*Joki mutters under her breath as she looks to the smoking Creed*

As the dreaming Creed walks closer to the conversation, he is just able to hear what the muttering Joki is saying. "Just none of your business is all... they took Adam too soon..." He hears Joki mutter.

*The smoking Creed looks to the direction of Joki and the Dreaming Creed* "What was that?" *he says, almost purposefully to pester her*

"Fine!" *Joki says with an immediate shout, which makes the dreaming Creed jump slightly* "You want to know why I am upset when you pester?! Huh?!" *says screaming loudly* ....

All goes gray as the dreaming Creed wakes from unconsciousness. His eyes crack open as he checks his alarm clock. Only four minutes have gone by. He reaches up to rub his eyebrow and rubs it slowly.

"That old bat Trelawny..." *says as he rolls over onto his side and takes breathes a frustrated sigh as he drifts into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.*

Joki struggled up the dark staircase, her arms full of books. Carefullly pushing the library door open with her foot, she slipped inside and began placing the books back on the shelves where she had gotten them the previous night. She was tired from nights with little sleep and her frustration was growing. Though she had searched through hundred of books on her late-night library forays, none had yielded the information she sought.

Standing on her tiptoes, she pushed the last book into place on a high shelf near the back of the library. Without warning, the swish of a wand broke the silence. Expecting a prefect, Joki muttered a curse under her breath and started to turn around.

"Jellylegs!"

Joki hit the ground on her knees as the hex struck her. Before her stood two Slytherin boys her own age or younger. She stared up at them in fury, unable to rise.

"Casting on someone when their back is turned . . . cute," she snarled.

The one who hexed her stepped back and his comrade moved to stand in front of her, grinning maliciously. "Being out after curfew, even cuter. Think I'll call the prefects." He replied, tapping his wand in his palm.

The spell wore off and Joki stood to her feet. Fixing the boys with a deadly glare, she slowly pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She took a drag to help her calm down, then she blew a stream of smoke into their faces. "Right, like they won't bust you too."

The boy slapped the cigarette out of her hand, moving closer and forcing her to back up against the bookcase. "I hate smoke," he growled. "And you are a disgrace to our house."

Joki shook with rage. "Then why don't you go on and call our prefect, hmm?" She taunted.

The boy shrugged and backed off a step, his hateful grin still in place. "I was bluffing."

"Oh, you think? Well I have a friend who's going to be looking for you when I tell him about your little game up here, so I'd watch my step."

The boy smirked. "Who's this pathetic 'friend' of yours?"

"You'll know when his boot's up your butt," she muttered in response. Pushing past them, Joki left the library without a backwards glance.

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

Creed lies awake in his bed and rolls over with a sigh. He lays his hands over his eyes to try and coax himself to sleep. It fails. He breathes another sigh of frustration before placing his feet on the warm wood of the Hufflepuff Dormitory floor. He stands slowly and wipes the sleep from his eyes and reaches for the door handle.

As he does so, a sharp pain shoots through his leg, as though someone has stabbed him in the thigh with a steak knife. Then another sharp, shooting sears through his shoulder.

He conceals his screams, in consideration of causing the other students to wake. Another sharp, shooting pain shoots up his spine to the back of his neck. The pain becomes too fierce and Creed falls to the floor, unconscious.

-Several Hours Later-

Creed awakes, pain free, on the floor. He scans the room, able to see better in the dark than he normally could. He moves onto his hands and knees and looks around once again. He tries to make his way to his feet, only to fall back down again to all fours. He attempts to stand once more, and fails, before he decides something is wrong. He takes the advantage of his newly discovered darkvision and examines himself.

He scans over his body to see his new, sleek, furry, pitch black body. He takes a paw to his face and feels around. He feels his other new attributes; a finely groomed black velvety coat, a set of white whiskers, soft padded paws, and a three foot tail.

He takes a breath as he finishes looking over himself with confusion. Was he dreaming? He was not sure. He nudges the door to his room open and silently walks out. He glances both ways down the hall and makes his way into the Common Room. There he sees the Fat Friar, he watches him quietly with his large, yellow eyes.

The Friar feels his presence and looks around, almost ignoring the large cat in the Common Room. "Whose ... * looks down at the cat. " ... panther ... is this?" Says as his voice echos the question all around the Dormitory.

With this, Creed quickly finds his way back to his room and kicks the door shut with his back paw after entering. He breathes a sigh as all goes quiet again. He shuts his eyes tightly and begins to concentrate on what he looked like before his transformation into a large, black cat.

He only hears himself think for the next few minutes. Then, slowly, he opens his eyes and looks around. He is still on all fours, but he examines himself and realizes that he is now, human. He breathes a sigh of relief as he comes to his feet.

As he does this, the Fat Friar pokes his ethereal head through the door into Creed's room. Creed notices him and glances over quickly. "You lose your pet Mr. Wyldhart?" says scanning the room for a large feline.

"What did it look like?" Creed says, almost mockingly.

"A very large black cat ... " the Friar answers.

"I've two of those, but I don’t bring mine into school." says attempting to appear sleepy. "Now do you mind if I get back to bed?" says rudely to the Friar.

"Very well ... " replies the Friar defensively while withdrawing his head from the door as he makes his way down the hall, muttering to himself.

Moving quietly as possible, Joki made her way back down the stairs. Somewhere a bell rang the four o'clock hour. Two hours of curfew left. Still fuming from her encounter with the boys in the library, she carefully stuck her head out into the Entrance Hall and scanned for prefects. The hall was aglow with soft lights of every color in honor of the Christmas holiday. Ice columns and giant fir trees were placed creatively around the hall, and snow fell softly from the enchanted ceiling.

Joki barely noticed the beautiful decor. Relieved that the hall was empty of prefects and professors, she made her way across the room to the door that led down into the dungeons. She made it halfway before a cold voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Out a bit early, aren't we?"

Joki stifled a groan and turned. Priggo Seville, the Slytherin prefect, sat in a chair between two of the giant ice columns. The columns and the fir tree behind him had shielded him from Joki's view until now. His icy stare was fixed on her, sizing her up. "I won't have you breaking rules and bringing shame to our house."

Joki's already roused temper flared again. "I don't give a rat's [censored] about 'our house'."

Seville regarded her in silence for a moment, then stood and walked toward her. He stopped a few feet in front of her. Joki could see his eyes glittering inside the shadows of the hood he wore. "No one ever ends up in a house that they truly do not want to be in," he stated flatly. Joki just shrugged. "I forgot your name," Priggo said.

"Wilde."

The prefect gave a slow nod of recognition. "Interesting name. Tell me, Miss Wilde, what is it you thought Slytherin could offer you?"

Joki wanted to scream in frustration. The last thing she wanted right now was an interrogation from anyone, least of all Priggo Seville. But she figured that playing along was probably the only way to escape detention and be rid of him anytime soon.

"Knowledge," she said between gritted teeth, "What else are any of us here for?"

Priggo shook his head once, a sharp gesture that told her he wasn't fooled. "Any of the houses could teach you the basics."

"Maybe," Joki said coldly, "I'm not interested in the basics."

Priggo stared at her for another moment, his expression chill and unreadable. "Come with me," he finally said.

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

Priggo led Joki down into the dungeons. The torches that lined the walls of the corridors dimmed a little as they passed, then flared back to their normal brightness behind them. Looking neither to the left or the right, the prefect navigated the twisting passages with ease. Joki walked a few paces behind him. She briefly considered trying to slip into a side chamber and escape, but thought better of it.

Finally they reached a stone door, identical to many they had already passed. Priggo opened it with a touch and locked it behind them with a wave of his wand. The stone chamber was large and dark, the few torches on the walls giving them just enough light to see each other. A rat looked at them for a moment with its tiny bright eyes, then scurried away with a squeak.

"Charming," Joki muttered.

"Shut it." Priggo faced her and pulled off his left glove. Slowly he extended his hand toward her, palm up. In the dim torchlight Joki could just make out the outlines of a rune scarred into his palm. Feigning disinterest, she looked at it for a minute, memorized the shape, then looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "It's an ancient wiccan rune," Seville said.

"I'm not an idiot, I know what it is. What's it for?"

Priggo ignored Joki's insolent tone. "There are five of them, all over my body." He pulled off his right glove and showed her the rune carved into that palm. "These, one on each ankle, and the largest on my chest." He smiled within the darkness of his hood, seeing past Joki's stoic demeanor to the almost frantic curiosity she was trying so hard to conceal. "Tell me, Joki Wilde, how much pain can you endure?"

Joki had grabbed his right hand and brought it near her face so she could see the outline of the rune there better. Her eyes flickered up to his face again. "I can endure whatever I have to."

"Don't you even want to know what they do before you agree to start carving yourself up?"

Joki dropped his hand and faced him angrily. "I don't recall agreeing to anything."

Priggo gave the slightest nod of approval. "Perhaps you'd like a demonstration then." Not giving Joki time to reply, he grabbed her jaw with his right hand to hold her still. His grip was far from gentle, but Joki refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. She stared into his strange eyes as he brought his left hand to the side of her head. "With this rune, I can inflict suffering."

A burning pain unlike anything she had ever known seared through Joki's head. Her screams of agony echoed through the chamber as Priggo let go of her and she landed face down on the stone floor. He only let her lie there for a few seconds before hauling her to her feet. Holding her up with his left arm, he brought his right hand to her head. "And with this one I can take it away." As soon as he touched her the pain was gone.

Joki pushed away from him and rubbed her head, still stunned at the sudden departure of the pain. "And the others," she said, her breathing rapid and shallow, "what do they do?"

Priggo grinned, replacing his gloves. "Care for another demonstration? Or do you want me to just tell you?"

Joki shook her head. "Nah. I'm good . .. just tell me."

"On my ankles are the runes for surviving sudden change, and for always moving toward victory. The one on my chest allows me to harness the power of the others for my purposes."

"And they work? All together, I mean?"

Priggo shrugged. "I think so. Or perhaps they just act as a placebo." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, since we're sharing secrets Miss Wilde, why don't you tell me what it is you're really after?"

Joki turned her back on him and made a show of examining her fingernails. "I lost someone," she finally said, her voice level and emotionless, "and I want him back."

"You won't find anything like that here." Priggo said with calm finality.

Joki turned to face him again, the set of her shoulders defiant. "Then I'll keep looking."

Priggo shook his head once, brushing aside her determination. "It will do you no good."

"You lie," Joki said angrily. She spoke the words of the charm and the Shadow appeared between them. With another word from her it left.

Priggo gave a mocking laugh. "Magic to control undead summons is common. But there is no magic to restore the dead to life." With these crushing words he turned and walked to the door. He unlocked it with his wand, then stopped and turned. "Before you waste your life in a vain quest to find your lost love or whoever he was, ask yourself this: Would he even want to come back? Would you?" Pushing open the door, he passed through it and left Joki still standing in the middle of the room, her fists clenched and tears of rage and despair glittering in her eyes.

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

The winter scenery had long lost any power to entertain on the train ride to London. Having been fortunate enough to find an empty car, Joki settled back into her seat on the Hogwarts Express.

Her black robes with their Slytherin green accents were soft and warm. She had pulled off her gloves, but left her black hood in place. It had been an unexpected Christmas gift from Creed, and she felt a strange comfort when she wore it.

They had spent the previous evening under their tree on the school grounds, far enough away from the castle that their mutual smoking habit could go unnoticed, but close enough that they could get back in a hurry if they had to. Joki's brow furrowed thoughtfully as she remembered the moment last night when Creed had revealed to her that he was an Animagus. His form was that of a great black cat, with a gleaming dark coat and yellow eyes that shone with a mixture of animal ferocity and human intelligence. "At least this explains the hairballs . . ." Creed said when he had turned back into his normal form. The memory made her smile slightly.

She had hated to leave him for the holiday. He was an orphan, how could she have told him that she dreaded going home to her parents? Yet somehow he seemed to know, and casually suggested that she send him a letter by owl post while she was away.

Thinking of owls made her think of the letter she had received from her father a few weeks before, demanding that she come home. Taking the letter from her bag, she unfolded it and read again the message in her father's bold writing:

Josephine,

Joki made a face at his use of her detested real name, then continued reading.

Despite your immature demands, your mother and I insist that you come home for the Christmas holiday. You are too old to let your emotions dictate your actions in the way that you have. In order that you will not make this visit unpleasant for everyone, I have decided that we will travel as a family to Scotland for the time that you have off from school. And while we are on the subject of your studies, I must say we are sorely displeased with the assessments of your progress that we have received from the Hogwarts administration. We intend to have a discussion about the matter with you when you arrive. At your insistence, we will not celebrate your birthday tomorrow. We will meet you at Platform 9 3/4, then we will travel to the Harbor to meet our ship. I trust that you will conduct yourself in a manner that would bring honor to our family, and not shame as you have brought it in the past.

Your father,

Alexander Wilde

Joki dropped the letter to the floor and aimed her wand at it.

"Incendio."

The letter burst into flames. Joki watched as it burnt itself out, taking any ash and smoke with it. She was surprised by the lack of emotion that the letter had brought. She had not felt angry or saddened when reading her father's words, just a slight sense of relief that the break would not be spent in the family home in London. They would not get to her. Nothing would. She would speak when she was spoken to, go where she was told, and when the vacation was over she would leave and come back to Hogwarts and Creed and forget she was ever there.

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

*Lucian..slowly peeks his head in.....There is something different about him....stunningly more handsome then usual...(Look at the avatar..) He glances about at the people...looking for a open seat.....which is easily found, He glances at Joki saying in a very soft tone.* "May I sit there?" *pointing to the empty space, He awaits a answer looking about the small box.*

_________________
Life is at best a dream and at worst a nightmare from which you cannot escape.
- Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts

Lucian Vent - Living, Expelled, Location Unknown

Jacob Green - Living, Seventh Year, Hufflepuff

Rurian Blackwing - Living, Seventh Year, Slytherin

Cameron Slaine - Living, Second Year, Gryffindor

Joki turned her head sharply toward the speaker, more irritated with her failure to detect anyone approaching than the intrusion. The boy Creed had gotten into countless fights with their first year at school stood in the door of the car. What was his name? Lucian . . . that was it. She shrugged and replied, her tone flat and expressionless, “do what you want.” Not waiting for a response from him, she turned back to the window and pulled her hood low over her face. In a few minutes she was asleep.

A short time later the train shuddered and began to slow as they approached Platform 9 ¾. The whistle blast and the sound of brakes being applied caused Joki to wake with a start. She pulled on her gloves, keeping her gaze on her hands and then the floor in case Lucian was still on the seat across from her. She was hardly in the mood for conversation. Pulling her duffel bag from under her seat, she pushed the car door open and headed for the train exit. She could see her parents on the platform, the familiar haughty set of her father’s shoulders, her mother’s slight rigid form. An almost overwhelming despair caused Joki to stop in the aisle for a moment. Her bag slipped off her shoulder to the floor as other students pushed past her. Then she remembered her resolve: They would not get to her. Nothing would. Re-shouldering her duffel bag, she pushed her hood back from her face, squared her shoulders, and walked to the door of the train.


Several days into her vacation, Joki’s armor of indifference was chipped and battered but still in place. Having endured countless lectures on everything from her behavior to her schoolwork to her hair color, she was mentally counting the days until it was time for her to go back to school. One week left. Her parents had rented a house on the Scottish coast for their ‘family vacation’. The only peace Joki had found during the long days was in the rare times when she was able to slip down to the beach unnoticed. There she would sit in the shelter of giant black rocks, smoking or thinking. When she grew tired of that she would walk by the water’s edge, the constant wind tearing at her hair and blowing into her face with a force that caused tears to run down her cheeks. She hated water, but there was anger and sadness in the roaring ocean that corresponded with some wild part of her.

It was after one of these excursions that she had returned to the house with her hair a mess and her cheeks flushed from the wind to find her father waiting for her in the sitting room. His face was a dark mask of anger that caused her to pause in the doorway before entering the room.

“Explain to me, if you can, the meaning of this?” Alexander Wilde threw a pack of cigarettes to the floor at Joki’s feet. Joki took off her gloves and put them in her pocket, along with her hood. Taking off her cloak, she laid it across the back of a chair without looking at her father or the cigarettes.

“Pretty self-explanatory I would think,” she said shortly.

“I will not tolerate disrespect, Josephine! Not from the person who-” he stopped mid-sentence and turned his back to her, his tall figure cloaked in black robes and silhouetted in front of the fireplace.

Joki stared at his back, knowing what he had been about to say but unable to quite believe it. The dark sickening anger that had been a part of her for so long was finally roused. When she spoke it was with a deadly calm voice, her eyes narrowed and every muscle in her body tensed. “Not from the person who murdered your son?”

Alexander whirled around and covered the ground between them in two swift strides. “How dare you!”

Joki looked up at him unflinching. “How dare you, Father. For four years I have had to live with your coldness and your insinuations. Accuse me openly, try me, and then exact the punishment you see fit. But I tell you now, I will not live with the burden of your ignorance for another day.” They stood facing each other, their mutual fury and grief the only thing that held them together while simultaneously tearing them apart.

“Hold out your hands,” Alexander grated out, his voice hoarse and unnatural.

The old punishment. Joki remembered it well, but never had she met it with the cold animal grin that slowly pulled her lips away from her teeth as she did now. The grin stayed in place as Alexander’s wand came down bitingly across her palms, again and again until the wand and Joki's hands were slick with blood from the gashes that covered her palms in a crimson criss-cross pattern.

Finally Alexander brought his wand-arm back to his side. His fury had spent itself, leaving him empty and stunned.

Joki dropped her hands to her sides. “May I go now?”

Alexander turned back to the fireplace, leaning his head on the mantle and seeming not to hear her question for several moments. Joki waited patiently until his answer came.

“Yes . . . go.”

Joki picked up her cloak from the back of the chair with her teeth and draped it over her arm to keep from touching it with her bloody hands. Without a look back she went up the stairs to her room. She’d promised Creed a letter- tonight she would write it. Memnoch, Joki's black panther, lay stretched on the floor beside her bed. Smelling the scent of his mistresses’ blood, the great cat rose to his feet and approached her, his body undulating side to side in its graceful rhythm. Joki automatically held her hands out toward him, knowing the beast would not rest until she let him tend the lacerations. Methodically the cat licked the blood from each palm, stopping every few minutes to growl his displeasure at whoever had dared to raise a hand against his mistress. Finally when most of the bleeding had stopped, Joki tore strips of cloth from the silk bed sheets and bandaged her hands as best she could. She was no longer angry. It had not occurred to her to be sad. Even the stabbing pain from her damaged hands was barely more than a dull pressure at the corners of her mind. The blessed numbness that was her self-preservation had taken over.

Sitting at the desk in the room, she rummaged through the drawers and found a quill, an inkwell, and some parchment. Holding the quill clumsily because of the lashes and the bandages, she began to write. The words ran across the page, drawn from some buried wellspring that heaved forth its contents without Joki's direction, and for once without her protest.


Creed,

I am writing because you have to know. I told you one night that I lost someone- I did not tell you who or how. He was my brother. Adam, my twin. Every hope and dream my father ever left unfulfilled rested on my brother’s shoulders. We adored him. I loved him more than life.

Four years ago Adam and I left our house without the knowledge of our parents. We were meeting the boy who lived down the street. He was a mudblood, and a friend our parents did not approve of. His name is unimportant. That particular day we met at a creek that ran behind the boy’s house. He said he had something special to show us, some muggle item. It was a pack of cigarettes. The same brand you and I smoke now. The boy and I tried one. Adam refused, knowing how angry and disappointed our father would be if he found out. He cared so much what father thought of him.

The boy was angry, thinking Adam would tell our parents and he would get into trouble, though Adam never had any intention of telling anyone. The boy was bigger. He dragged Adam to the creek and threw him into the dark water. He didn’t know Adam couldn’t swim. I couldn’t either. I went in after him anyway. Too late the boy saw his mistake and came in after us. He saved me, but the water had already taken my brother. The boy had to choke me until I lost consciousness to get me out of the water. If I could have, I would have killed the boy there on the bank then, the smell of the water all around and the taste of cigarette smoke in my mouth. But I couldn’t kill him. I wasn’t strong enough then.

I knew that day that memory would be the cruelest torture. For both of us, all our lives. So I made the boy an offer. In exchange for keeping me supplied with cigarettes, I wouldn’t tell anyone of his part in Adam’s death. I know it makes no sense, but I wanted to be sure he would never forget. I wanted him to live with the choice of either being constantly reminded of what he had done, or having the whole world know. And it worked. He still lives with his parents, nearly insane from that daily choice. And I go on.

This is why you have to know.

I will not stop searching for a way to find my brother. I cannot. No matter where I have to go, no matter what I have to do, nothing will change that fact. No one will stop me. No one. I have been told that no such magic exists. I will not accept that. So this is the only warning I will give you.

I will not turn from this path, Creed. So if you want no part of it, which I hope for your sake you do not, then this is goodbye.

Fresh blood still seeped from the gashes on her palms, soaking through the bandages and dripping a few bright splatters onto the page as Joki signed her name. She clumsily folded the letter and sealed it before handing it to the owl who perched on the desk, waiting. Taking the letter in its beak, the owl stared at Joki with its round eyes, then shook its head and ruffled its feathers before flying out the open window.

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin

Creed exhales slowly, letting the smoke linger. He reaches for a low hanging branch as he takes another slow, deep drag from his cigarette. Before he grabs the branch, something catches his eye. In the distance he sees something flying towards the school. He thinks nothing of it and plucks a leaf from the lower branch. He twirls the leaf between his finger tips, by its stem, and exhales quickly to take another drag from the cigarette.

He gazes up at the now, much closer black smudge flying towards the castle. He now recognizes it as an owl and concludes it must be late from the breakfast group and is delivering a letter. He continues twirling his leaf and watches the owl make its way closer and closer, and eventually, start to head for Creed. He takes another drag as the owl lands silently in front of him. He sets the leaf down and tosses the owl a few treats from his pocket and gives it a thankful nod as he removes the letter from its beak.

Creed breaks the seal on the letter and reads it to himself. His expression is that of a statue as he reads through the letter. After he is finished he notices several small droplets of blood on the margins of the paper and quirks a brow to himself. Frowning, he takes a quill, an inkwell, and a piece of parchment and scribbles something , barely legible, and very short on the piece of parchment. The owl watches him and gives a little squawk to hurry him up. Creed rolls the parchment and ties a worn piece of leather around it and ties the parchment to the owls foot and gives it a shooing motion as he leans back to his tree. He snuffs out his cigarette and tosses it aside as he begins pulling sections of the leaf off, starting with the tip and slowly making his way down to just the stem with which he tosses aside.

He interlocks his fingers behind his head as the short reply he had written runs through his head. “Come back”

Joki sat on her bed in her dorm room, honestly surprised by how glad she was to be back at school. Slowly she pulled off her gloves and unwound the strips of cloth from her hands with her fingertips. The gashes on her palms were still raw, and in spite of her efforts to be careful the necessary movements of the day had caused them to bleed again. Going to Madam Pomfrey for help was obviously out of the question, but she couldn’t go to class with her hands the way they were. Sooner or later someone would notice.

Re-wrapping her hands in cloths she had brought from home, she pulled her gloves back on using her teeth and threw her cloak around her shoulders. Silently she left her room and made her way to the Entrance Hall. A quick glance around the room let her know Creed was elsewhere. Leaning against one of the stone pillars, she melded into its shadow to wait.

It wasn’t long before she heard a familiar strong footstep behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Creed behind her looking down at her. Joki made a slight motion with her head toward the door, and he nodded in acquiescence.

Out into the snow they went to their usual spot, in the shelter of two trees. They sat facing each other, their backs against the tree trunks. “How was your holiday?” Creed asked shortly.

“Great, yours?” Joki replied, keeping her eyes trained on the ground.

“Fine.”

Joki nodded, and they sat in silence for a few minutes before Creed pulled a folded piece of parchment from his school bag. She recognized it as the letter she had sent him from home. He unfolded it and reread it, frowning. When he finished he looked up at her. “Why do you plan to spend your life pursuing something that’s hopeless?” he asked bluntly.

Joki shrugged. “That it is hopeless is merely the opinion of one individual, or a group if you count the professors here. That’s hardly something to stop me.”

Creed just looked at her, his expression unreadable. “And what’s your opinion?”

Shifting slightly, her hands in her lap, Joki shook her head. “Don’t have one yet, I guess.”

“Don’t you think you need one?”

“Sure. And I’ll have one when the time comes. But I know this- I won’t stop looking.”

Creed shook his head to get rid of the snowflakes clinging to his dreadlocks. “Where do you plan to look?”

Joki stared at the ground again, then looked up at him with a wan smile. “Guess I’ll finish school first. Don’t really have a choice about that. Then I guess I’ll just start walking. When I find something that might help, I’ll stop.”

He merely nodded and looked at the letter again.

“Can I ask you something?” Joki said hesitantly.

“What is it?”

Joki slowly pulled her gloves off and held up her hands. “Can you heal? I cut myself.”

Creed looked at her hands, then back at the letter. “This is your blood?”

Joki nodded. “Yeah, I’m clumsy.”

Creed set the letter aside and reached for her hands, carefully unwrapping the bandages. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the state of her palms, but only said “If you say so.”
Taking both Joki’s small hands in one of his big ones, he laid his other hand on top of hers and closed his eyes. In a few moments his hands began to give off a white light. Joki forced herself to hold still as a warmth began in her palms and spread to her fingertips. Slowly the light receded and disappeared. Creed let go of her hands and she held them up, palms toward her, fingers outspread. A myriad of scars criss-crossed her palms, but the wounds were closed and the pain gone. “Sorry I can’t do anything about the scars.”

Joki shrugged. “They’re fine. Thank you.”

They spent the rest of the evening under the trees, arguing and talking and enjoying each other’s company in their own abrasive way. When it was time for curfew, Joki went to her room and crawled into bed, and slept the whole night through for the first time in years.

_________________
Evie Cromwell, Hufflepuff
Joki Wilde, Slytherin