(1941-06-24) Hogwarts End-of-Term Feast, 1940-41
Details for Hogwarts End-of-Term Feast, 1940-41
Summary: The final feast for the 1940-41 school year.
Date: 24 June, 1941
Location: Great Hall, Hogwarts





Anson Abbott is in fine, defiant, spirits this evening. He arrives at the feast in his finest robes, his hair swept back off his forehead. He is flanked by several other Gryffindor Fifth Years, who carry themselves a touch too seriously — as though they're here to guard the troublesome boy. Or to restrain him, if his high spirits carry too far. He marches to the Gryffindor table and pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice, remaining on his feet for now.

Looking up and down the Hall, his gaze lingers on the Slytherin table, searching the crowd of Serpents with a haughty stare. Not finding what he is searching for, he turns his attention instead toward the Ravenclaws, making as though to walk in that direction. One of his friends lays a hand on his shoulder. "She's going out with Oberon Lestrange. Let it go, mate." The words are soft, but perhaps audible, and they do halt Anson in his tracks.

Brand's sitting at the Gryffindor table with his fellow first-years. He's yammering on to them and anyone who'll listen about Quidditch: how great he was in flying class, all the new moves he learnt this year, how amazing Qudditch camp's going to be over the summer, and how he's ready to dive into playing for the Gryffindor team next year.

Arriving promptly for the feast, Hephaesta Mulciber limps along the length of the Ravenclaw table, her leg brace singing its well-known song: click, whirr…click, whirr. In her hands she carries what looks like a rectangular metal box on posts, with tiny chains attached. She takes a seat right at the end of the table, nearest the podium. Settling in, she sets her funny little box right on the edge of the table.

Walburga heads over to the Slytherin table, making a younger student move before she sits down to watch the ceremony.

Many Hufflepuffs are already seated at that particular table, two of them being Melody Abernathy and her younger brother, Eoin. The siblings sit together, but it's clear that Eoin is more interested in his friends, and Melody… well she's just being Melody. The girl looks around with a pleasant but somewhat absent smile on her lips, waving to friends, whispering with those who come over before they're all told to take their seats for the festivities to begin.

Hurried steps bring Josie into the great hall, but she slows once she's here. She walks towards the Gryffindor table, though waves to Hephaesta when she spots her, smiling. Soon, however, she sits down, as usual near the other Pirates with her back facing the Ravenclaw table.

Entering into the Great Hall with a small contingent of other young Gryffindors comes Billy Marlowe. He seems in good spirits, if shabbily dressed in his second hand robes, as he makes his way over toward the Gryffindor table to join the rest.

Well, would you look at that. There's the faintest of hushed stirs rippling near the main doors as a very recognisable pair stroll into the Great Hall together. All practised elegance and aloof poise in their robes, one edged blue and bronze, the other green and silver, Oberon Lestrange and Morrow Selwyn cross the flagstones with unhurried grace, the latter's hand placed lightly in the crook of the former's elbow. It's oddly natural looking and perhaps quite unsettling all at once. The Ravenclaw is escorted to a spot about two-thirds of the way along her House's table, where her usual circle of friends are already seated and only then do the pair part ways, sharing a glance and a rather knowing smirk before Oberon strolls across to join his own housemates. Morrow slides into an empty space upon the bench and calmly pours herself a drink, for the moment simply smiling and ignoring the expectant looks of her clique.

Incoming! The smartest Gryffindors take a step aside when young Felix Flitwick explodes into the room like a runaway torpedo. But one Gryffindor isn't so quick on his feet. The unfortunate Felix collides headfirst into the voluminous bottom of the largest of First Years, Rubeus Hagrid.

"What? Sorry!" Rubeus leaps into an apology immediately, turning around to see Felix sprawled on the floor…giggling.

The thin figured young lad known about Hogwarts as Antonin Dolohov steps through the doors of the Great Hall, dressed in a quality set of tailored school robes trimmed in Slytherin green and silver. He enters alone, though he does not seem overly concerned as he moves across the Hall to join Walburga at the Slytherin table.

Brody Iolar, seventh year Ravenclaw, enters the Hall and walks slowly toward the Ravenclaw table. Despite the Feast and the hubbub of pleasant conversation all about, Brody's expression is somewhat forlorn as he heads across and slides onto the bench at the Ravenclaw table.

Anson stares over at the Slytherin table, as the newest glamour couple enter the Hall. The color rushes from his cheeks for a moment, then burns back, bright-red embarrassment. A hand on his shoulder guides him to a seat across from Josie, and he flops down without argument. He looks over at the commotion Felix and Rubeus are causing, but the smile he summons is a bit sickly. He swallows hard, taking a sip from his pumpkin juice as he tries to regain his countenance.

Violet Urquart and Gladys Blishwick, often seen together for the past four years, are seated at the Ravenclaw table, whispering together. Gladdy motions over toward the Gryffindor table, to a tall blonde boy, and then hisses at Violet again. The brunette Urquart giggles and shakes her head, curls having a bit of a bounce, whispering back before they both break into a round of giggles.

There's a brief outburst of mirth from the Hufflepuff table - namely from where Erica Stainwright is seated with her fellow Quidditch players; of course next to Mateo Lovegood and with Oscar Foxhall opposite. The trio are grinning openly, though not unkindly, at the Gryffindor collision nearby. Though, it might be noted to any keen observer, the little blonde's expression falters just a touch as Antonin Dolohov passes by in the background.

Oscar Foxhall considers the fallen Felix, and the giant, unmoveable, Rubeus. "See? In Muggle school, we'd call that physics." He's grinning hugely aside at Erica and Mateo, looking rather proud of the poor joke. But Erica's expression causes his own to falter, and the big Hufflepuff goes silent. Apart from his fingers, which he continues to drum atop the table, unable to keep entirely still.

A little further along the Ravenclaw table, Jaclyn Summerbee glances up at the sudden outburst of giggling from Violet Urquart and her pal, looking bemused. When it becomes plain they're not laughing at her, however, she pushes her glasses up with a fingertip onto the bridge of her nose and returns her attention to.. wow, really? Yes. She's reading a Herbology book. And dropping crumbs of bread in between pages, incidentally, as she munches on it.

Hephaesta catches the wave from Josie, and her usually serious face lights up in a freckled smile. She sends a cheery wave back to her young friend.

Mateo Lovegood, Hufflepuff Prefect, also draws silent as Dolohov walks past their table, but he bounces back quickly enough as he leans forward and draws Oscar and Erica's attention, attempting to pull them both back to the present. "So how long will it be before the two of you are ready to start practicing? Do we have any vacations to schedule around?"

Riddle on his way to the Slytherin table makes a pit stop at the Ravenclaw table. His eyes narrow to scan the Eagle's present, "Goshawk." He offers a genteel smile when spots Virgil among the sea of blue and bronze. "You're from Wales, right? Do you know what D-W-R G-O-L-C-H-I means?" At least Riddle respects Virgil enough not to call it the language of Phlegm to his face as he does more privately among friends.

Making his way inside, Vincent Goyle steps over towards the Slytherin table. Steps a bit slow, as heglances over towards the other people present. There's a brief smile, before he moves over to find himself a seat.

Hufflepuff Third Year, Aislin O'Riordan, claims a seat at her house's table, not far from Erica and Oscar. She offers a pleasant smile to those around her, even as she opens her ever-present journal in front of her and begins to write.

Lara enters the familiarity of the Great Hall, as she has done a thousand times in the past seven years. She lingers in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene. So… this is it. The final feast. Her eyes find the the countless stars on the ceiling, then she reluctantly makes her way to the Ravenclaw table. She nods to her fellow Eagles in greeting, as she takes a seat opposite of Hephaesta. Her attention settles on the curious box in front of her. "Hi Phae. So… final feast for us, is it? What mecha-magical wonders have you brought us this time?" Her tone is teasing, but her smile warm.

Akilina gives shy smiles to her fellow Ravenclaws, to Brody she leans over towards so that he might hear her, "You should sit at that side of the table, closest to the High Table so you can get up easily for the ceremony. Could you pass on the idea?" Cause she'd be lucky if Brody even hears this. She's getting better about volume, but she's not there just yet.

Erica returns the smile toward Aislin, determinedly regaining her good cheer, before turning to answer Mateo. "I've no vacation plans.. though I'll have to help my dad at work for a lot of the time. We'll see what he says." And to Oscar, cutting him a wry sidelong glance, she adds, "..that was dreadful, by the way. Was that the best you could come up with?" There's nothing but mischief in her tone, of course. Not a mean bone in her body, that one.

Virgil enters and quietly makes his way to the Ravenclaw table, where he pulls out a book and resumes reading where he had left off. The graduation ceremony was no reason for a student to stop enjoying a book. He glances up at the question and gives it a long moment of consideration, his eyes dipping down to his book for a second before he pushes it up onto the table in front of him. "Let me think.." he ponders for a moment and then asks, "What's the context? Contextual clues being useful for anything, I'd only be able to speculate- same as you, but I'm not Welsh, my family is, but I'm London born and raised," he answers, trying to be helpful.

Abraxas Malfoy arrives for the penultimate final feast of his Hogwarts Career and makes his way to his place near the center of the Slytherin table, with the other Knights and his housemates. He gives a nod to those present and settles in, "I haven't missed anything, have I?" he asks.

Asmund is at the Hufflepuff table, working on some modern art, he's taken his silverward and is trying to put it together to balance and make one of the forks look like a broom that gently kilters to and fro as the table vibrates from everyone coming in.

Oberon gives Abraxas a welcoming chuckle, moving aside to make room for the Prefect. "Mostly just some sad puppy eyes from Anson Abbott." Were there sad puppy eyes? That's how Oberon chooses to remember it.

"I'll be helping in the shop as well, but I haven't any vacation plans." Oscar's voice is cheerful enough now that the topic has been so deftly changed by Mateo. "Though maybe down to Bristol or something of a weekend. Nothing exciting." He gulps pumpkin juice before answering Erica. "It was pretty terrible, wasn't it?" Absolutely no shame. "But worth it."

Politely, Morrow offers an upnod of greeting toward Lara and Hephaesta. But her attention is dragged back to those directly surrounding her, particularly as Audra Higgs leans in and whispers something presumably urgent. Or perhaps not, given the look of weary reproach the brunette gives her. At the opposite side of the Ravenclaw table, seeing as Morrow's not paying enough attention to tell her off, Harriet Blishwick is watching Anson, all the way over there with his fellow Gryffindors; a dreamy smile plumping up her already round cheeks. A glance her way from the golden haired boy would elicits a waggle of fingers in a wave.

Tom Riddle does look momentarily frustrated, but he bobs his head an a grateful manner to Virgil. A bit at a loss at this point he scans the others present, "Anyone? Does anyone speak Welsh?" As things are progressing he doesn't want to be the last one in his seat so while he does keep an attentive eye and ear open for anyone that speaks Welsh he does settle down at his usual spot in the center of the Knights gathered at the Slytherin table.

Antonin gives Oberon, Abraxas, Riddle, and Vincent all nods of greeting as they slide over to sit at the Slytherin table, though the young boy does eventually return his gaze across the Hall to stare daggers at Anson Abbott.

Virgil returns the nod to Riddle and flips open his book again, making a mental note that he ought to learn the language, so he can visit distant relatives and not look the fool. Even as he flips back to the page he'd been on, he touches each page as he reads it, letting his fingers trace the lines to hold his place if he needs to look up to respond to conversational cues, of which there are a seldom few.

Billy moves down the Gryffindor table to join Josie and Anson, where he slides onto the bench and gives them both a friendly wave. He smiles as he glances toward the empty plates and says, "I don't know about you guys, but I am starving. I hope the speeches are short this year."

"Puppydog eyes, is it? You seem to have found a new rival, Lestrange." Abraxas says, with a snort, adjusting his robes and nodding to the others, including Tom as he arrives.

Anson is still downcast, staring into his pumpkin juice. Then one of his friends gives him a nudge, and murmurs in his ear. He looks up sharply, over at Harriet Blishwick. For a moment, his features are severe, almost fierce. But then he relaxes into a warm smile, some of the good humor returning to his face, and returns her waggled finger with a full-arm wave and a gesture. 'Come over!' He casts a sharp glance over at Morrow to see if she notices, but his attention is deviated by Antonin's stare. He returns the look with a smile and a wink.

Turning his attention over to Billy as he speaks, he says "Me too, mate. I was considering gnawing off a limb, but maybe Harriet snuck some food into the Feast." His spirits have risen with that wink, and he grins openly at Billy and Josie. "Am I the only one here who cannot wait for summer to end, so that we can sweep the floor next year? See what I did there.. sweep, broomsticks.."

Being jostled by her brother, Melody gives the boy a light jab to the ribs with her elbow. "Shove over then, Eoin, if you have to wiggle about so." She's not cross with him, it's just a typical exchange between siblings. It's uncertain if she's ever been cross with anyone. Well, one person. She sways slightly, as if to music, and her fingers tap lightly on the table, movement that would be familiar to anyone who knows her as the source of drifting flute music that is often heard about the grounds in fair weather. Otherwise, she seems content to sit and wait for the food to appear.

Josie nods quickly to Billy, and says, "Yeah, me too. But they'll probably talk about the war, and being safe this summer or something. So it might take longer than usual." She glances up towards the head table, but then looks to Anson again, "Not really. I got lots to do this summer, don't want to be over to quick."

Samira pauses amidst the flow of students into the Great Hall. Her dark gaze lingers on the Ravenclaw table, but the petite Sixth Year arrives a bit too late to be visiting friends at other tables. As one of the last to arrive, she makes her way to find one of the reamining seats at the Slytherin table.

"Hey," Vincent offers to the others at the table while he seats himself. Pausing as he notices Antonin's stare at Anson, and Abbott's reaction, he blinks momentarily. "What did I miss?"

Oberon gives Abraxas a cocky grin. "The word 'rival' suggests that he's some kind of challenge. Hey, Tom," he greets the younger Slytherin as he sits in the empty space Oberon has guarded for him.

Augusta sits at the Gryffindor Table beside Landon, they are close to the High Table side as it's no secret that the pair intend on graduating now that their O.W.L.s are taken. Softly chatting with each other.

Antonin glances aside toward Vincent as he questions what he had missed. Eyes shifting toward the head table, he shakes his head discreetly and says, "We can talk about it once we have won the Cup." There were rumors, of course, but it isn't anything that anyone will hear Dolohov speaking or giving comment to… yet, at least.

As the students get settled at their tables, Headmaster Dumbledore rises to his feet at the head table, a Sonorous Charm amplifying a clearing of his throat. He waits patiently, as the students gradually quiet and attention turns to him.

When he feels that the roar has quieted enough, the Headmaster speaks. "We find ourselves now at the end of another year. Many of you will return in Autumn, and for those who are going on into the world, our hearts and good wishes go with you. I'm pleased to say," he goes on, his eyes pausing on each table in turn, "That this year held a good deal less excitement than last year." There are nods of assent from the professors seated at the table. "However," Dumbledore booms, "This does not mean we are able to stop striving to always be better. We are not perfect in our interactions, and we shall always continue to seek our best selves, to be more than we were in every way that we are able."

For a moment, looking thrilled by that inviting gesture from Camp Gryffindor, Harriet seems about to rise, regardless of timing. Heck, she'd probably leap from table to table, if she had the agility. However, never let it be said that Morrow is unaware of her surroundings. At a whisper from the stocky girl to her right, the brunette flits her vivid blue eyes veryy briefly in the direction of Abbott, then averts her gaze just as swiftly to the top table, perhaps assessing how much time remains before the formalities begin.

Emphatically not enough, it would seem. Her attention drifts to Blishwick, fixing her with a heavy-lidded, mildly feline stare and a short few words, inaudible to all but her direct companions. Whatever it is, the curvy blonde slowly plops back down in her seat, offering Anson an apologetic shake of her head… not to mention a sullen pout. That elicits a momentary smirk from Selwyn, before the Headmaster's clearing of throat draws her focus. Ah, it seems the evening is underway!

Brody's attention goes immediately to Dumbledore as the Headmaster begins his address. Seated not too far from where Morrow and crew are, the seventh year still seems to be oblivious to the goings on about him.

Hephaesta perks right up when Dumbledore clears his throat. Her eyes are fixed rather intently on him, and her hand repeatedly goes out to touch her little metal box on the table, as if reassuring herself that it's still there.

Samira hesitates at the absence of gaps at the Slytherin table. Dumbledore has cleared his throat and begun to speak. If she doesn't sit soon, she could lose enough points to keep them from winning the house cup right then and there. She dashes to Riddle and his Knights to settle down with a sigh of relief. Safe!

Eoin actually stops his wiggling and looks up to pay attention to the Headmaster before Melody does. For a moment longer, the girl is lost in her own world, and happily so. The younger Abernathy takes great pleasure in returning her earlier nudge, getting her attention, and nodding toward the head table. Mel blinks and looks around, then settles her dark gaze in the general direction of Dumbledore.

Dumbledore continues, "I will now call up those Fifth Years that will be leaving us. Let's all give them a good send off. Dean Hawthorne, Sierra Higgins, Landon Longbottom, Angus Macmillan, and Augusta Macmillan." He applauds after reading off all of the names. There is something additional and he gives a little gesture and Kettleburn comes up beside the podium holding a Crystal award that seems to glow from within with a golden light. It is shaped like a roman plinth, in the corinthian fashion, with elegant bunches of flowers and other small, highly-detailed, engravings about the base. Atop the plinth is a plume of fluggy crystal clouds, above them, a pegasus, looking as though it has just leapt into the air. The rugged Professor speaks up in his thick Yorkshire accent. "Angus Macmillan. You did well." That's that it sems and Angus is passed the Care of Magical Creatures Award.

Anson watches the interaction between Morrow and Harriet with a deeply-satisfied air, looking rather pleased with himself as he waves again to Harriet, this time apparently in forgiveness. He seems in a much better mood as he leans back in his seat, smiling over at Josie. Opening his mouth to answer her, he falls silent as Dumbledore begins to speak.

And something in the Headmaster's words cause a vaguely guilty expression to flit across his face. He masks it by taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. But when the call for a send-off comes, Anson sets down his juice and raises his hands, ready to join the applause the moment it begins.

Billy nods in agreement with a good natured eye roll toward Josie as she speaks, and then whispers toward Anson as he mentions the summer hurrying by, "I don't know. The summer will be fun, for me at least!" Gaze darting toward Dumbledore, Billy listens politely and then claps as Angus is presented with his award.

Even seated, Rubeus towers above his fellow Gryffindors…even most of the higher years. He looks around and down at them with a smile as Angus wins the award. "That's goin' to be me someday. Jus' you watch."

Looking to the rest of the gathered Knights, Antonin smirks as he says, "I guess Dumbledore just hasn't figured out that for some at this school, their "best selves," just does not say much for them."

Augusta MacMillan is a butterfly of excitement as she goes up to walk across the dias to receive her writ of achievement from Dumbledore. She faces the student body and gives a little wave of the rolled up writ. "I would just like to say thank you and good-bye to everyone. I hope some day I'll be fashioning each of you the most splendid of hats!" She steps down and returns to her seat.

Riddle gives Antonin a side long look that pretty clearly reads that he's displeased and just might lump Antonin in with the very group he's admonishing right now. He is however maintaining a level of applause equal to the crowd.

Josie applauds for Angus, grinning. She looks down the table to Rubeus, then, giving him a grin. "Bet I'll see you at creature camp, then." She can't say too much, right then, since they only have a few seconds before Dumbledore will start speaking again, but she seems cheerful that the large first year shares one of her interests. Then, however, she's looking back to the head table.

Leaning aside to answer Billy, Anson whispers, "Oh, it'll be fun. I love Quidditch Camp. I just can't wait to win." As if there is no doubt at all that he shall be winning. Rather, that the team shall be winning. Of course. But he falls quickly silent again, rather than risk the wrath of a Professor — or even a Prefect, with his reputation on such thin ice — and turns his attention back to Dumbledore. With his ridiculously-smooth complexion, he manages an angelic look somewhat better than he might otherwise. A little straighter in the chair, there. Fold the hands in front of himself. Tuck the chin. There. Perfect innocence.

Walburga says in a flat tone to Antonin as she's not that interested in what's going on. "Cheer up and look on the bright side of things, Dolohov." Walburga a positive person? "A batch of undesirables will be leaving and it's doubtful you'll ever see or hear from them again as they sink into obscurity and mediocrity." There's the compliment with a hook.

Samira sits across from Riddle and Oberon beside him. Her gaze flits to Antonin, following Riddle's amonishing gaze. And sitting beside Walburga, she can't fail to catch her comment. But at the mention of 'leaving', she simply lowers her gaze.

Applauding along politely and eyeing that trophy with a rare expression of appreciation - surely that's a bit too nice for that class? - Morrow does idly cast her gaze around the hall, taking note of the familiar faces and what they're upto at this precise moment in time. Oh look, Anson seems to have cheered up. What about… nope, Dolohov looks as surly as ever. Ignoring Harriet's obvious sulk, the brunette glances briefly over the other Knights, merely in happenstance, of course. Then it's back to the dais as the inevitable speeches follow. "I wonder who'll be the first to cry.." she muses, in a very soft aside to her companions.

Abraxas applauds with the others, but glances down the table at Walburga at the mention of undesirables leaving and gives a knowing - and agreeable nod.

Violet is paying keen attention to the head table and not to her housemates right now. She claps for all the students leaving now that their 5th year is done, and then for the first award recipient. Her eyes, shining with admiration, linger on Professor Kettleburn even after the man has retaken his seat. It's no secret what her favourite class is.

Oberon spares regular glances toward the Ravenclaw table, and finally catches Morrow looking in his general direction. He gives her a quiet smile and a nod of acknowledgement, and his eyes shift immediately to seek out Anson. Being half a head taller that most everyone else helps to see across to the Gryffindors.

Lara shifts her attention from Hephaesta to Dumbledore as he speaks, applauding politely. Leaving after one's Fifth Year is not precisely an Eagle's idea of a remarkable academic career, but - as far as the Higgins family goes - one should probably be glad that Sierra's elder brother Colton actually made it to his Seventh Year. As for the Creature Award… the trophy certainly looks amazing. She briefly nods to Angus in respect, then her focus returns to Hephaesta and her mysterious box. "Psst…. Phae. What's this miraculous contraption?" she hisses quietly, trying to get Hephaesta's attention with a nudge against her shin.

Vincent listens in quiet, unable to hold back a grin at one or two of the comments at the table. But all in all, he seems quite thoughtful now.

Rubeus beams especially brightly to Josie for her encouragement to come to Creature Camp. Naturally, he has every intention…if his father can afford it.

Anson might be trying to pose like an angel, but he can't help but notice the gazes upon him. Morrow's look brings a quick smile of acknowledgement and a tip of his head. He's idly looking through the room now, and his gaze falls upon Oberon just as the taller boy is looking at him. There's a moment's hesitation before Anson stretches his smile wider, slowly, and very deliberately drops one eyelid in a wink.

Samira shifts, tucking a foot beneath herself so that she might prop herself up a bit higher on a folded leg. Resting her elbows on the table, she leans forward to peer down at the head table of teachers. But then, returning her attention to the Slytherin table, she peeks over at Oberon before letting her gaze flit to Abraxas.

Lissie slips in, a bit rather late. She has her hair braided, but the hair is, nonetheless mussed, and her clothes look both slighty damp and slightly ruffled. She looks about, then tries to slide over to her table without being noticed.

There's a relaxed smile for Oberon, as Morrow momentarily meets his gaze. But she doesn't seek to hold his attention further than that. Certainly no idiotic finger-waggling as seen from her little blonde friend. No, instead she reaches for her glass, tiring of applauding for the moment and deciding on a sip of her drink to give her a moment's respite. "Morrow. Morrow." The tone of urgency from Harriet, despite being whispered, has a hint of giddiness about it. "..Did Anson just wink at me?"

The brunette simply sighs in response.

Abraxas arches a brow at Samira as she glances down the table at him, but otherwise waits for the announcements to resume and for the final graduation of the Seventh Years and, most exciting of all, the announcement of the House Cup winners.

Walburga looks to one side and sniffs the air, then looks towards Samira and sniffs. Her nose crinkles, there's a look like something is bothering her. "What is that? Old limburger?" She's looking around, trying to find the source as her eyes narrow.

Hephaesta blinks, at the nudge to her shin, glancing over to Lara. She blushes apologetically, only now realising she'd been ignoring her housemate. "Oh…it's a scale model for a magical lift for Hogwarts. I…I want to propose it the Headmaster and hopefully construct it before summer is out. I have a little cousin coming next year, and he is confined to a wheelchair."

It's amazing the things Melody notices and the things that fly right over her head. She seems to not be paying attention to anything specifically, but all at once her head turns and her eyes land on the last little Hufflepuff to arrive. There's an understated wave to Lissie, and Melody scoots over a bit toward Eoin, opening a space in anticipation of the younger girl seeing the movements.

Oberon's eyes narrow at Anson, a sure sign of displeasure at the Gryffindor's wink, and a silent promise of future retribution.

After the 5th years have had their send off, it seems time for the 7th years. "Melodia Abernathy - Who has also won the award in Astronomy." Professor Starkey awaits for Melody accept her commencement from Dumbledore before offering the young lady a golden lunascope that is engraved by the inventor of the item.

Having actually settled her attention on something, Melody blinks and looks around when she hears her name. Oh yes, she needs to go up there with the others! She pops up from her seat, a drift of steps taking her to accept her commencement, and she looks pleased and surprised at winning the Astronomy award for the second year in a row. She gives soft congratulations to the others who win awards as well, the brightest smile going to Brody. "Oh well done! Two awards, how clever of you!" She looks absolutely delighted for him.

While Melody is accepting her award the Headmaster proceeds "Payton Crabbe, Evelyn Eibon, Noalan Eibon the Third, Marcus Goyle, Terrance Green, Brody Iolar - Who is also this years winner of two awards in Charms and in Potions. Well done, Mr. Iolar." The professors bring their awards forward and present them to Brody, talk about an armful for him!

Brody stands with the rest of the seventh years as they move to be recognized. He is respectful, as always, as he waits for his turn, clapping with the rest for Melody as she receives her award. When it is his turn, he begins his way across the podium and his eyes widen in surprise at receiving two award and he accepts them both with appreciative smiles and quiet words with the Professors. He turns his attention toward Dumbledore and gives the man a meaningful look to convey his gratitude before walking back toward the Ravenclaw table laden with his awards.

While Brody is being weighed down with praise Dumbledore continues announcing names. "Rook Lovegood, Myrus Lowe…"

"Hephaesta Mulciber - Another recipient of two awards this year, in Arithmancy and in Muggle Studies." Once Phae receives her commencement there is Professor Aczal with a ring that has a golden abacus like device as the decoration and Professor Palancher with the infamous shiny chromed out but still fully operational Egg Beater on it's pedestal. While those prizes are handled the long line of Graduates continue to wait their turn.

Hephaesta's attention is yanked back to the podium at the sound of her name. She won? Not one, but two awards? She immediately shifts to a lovely shade of pink. As she rises, she scoops up her little box and brings it to the podium. "H-Headmaster? Headmaster Dumbledore, I wanted to show you…" But she is quickly ushered away by the other professors with quiet admonishments that it isn't the time. She blushes deeper as she nods and says her thank yous, limping back to her seat with her trophies.

Josie applauds for all the graduates, but when Phae is called up, and gets those awards, she applauds far more vigourously, a bright smile on her face. She continues applauding until the last of the graduates are through, and then settles back into her seat.

The Seventh Years are undeniably the more interesting bunch. Even Morrow is less easily distracted now as she observes the line slowly moving across the dais, the occasional half-smile elicited by the calling of names she recognises - and likes. Keeping her eyes up front, she tilts her head a fraction in order to find a better view. Ravenclaw, quite rightly, seems to be dominating the special awards and she's not too proud to applaud her housemates for their achievements!

Samira offers a soft smile as Abraxas arches his brow. But before she can speak, Walburga sniffs the air near her. She glances over at Walburga and blinks. The jibe at the Gryffindors draws out a faint grin. The grin soon fades, however, as Professor Dumbledore announces the 7th Years. Samira's hands tighten into small fists. But she smiles as Hephaesta collects her prizes and joins the applause, rising up to one knee on the bench to flash her friend a bright smile.

Luckily the announcements give adequate cover for Lissie, and the small girl dashes towards the Hufflepuff table. However, in her haste she trips over her still-too-long robes, and she skids forwards and half-slides, half-rolls to her table. Red-faced, she rolls under the bench, then clambers up onto it. "Hullo."

The commencement commences! "Lorraine Nott, Gresham Ollivander, James "Est" Prince Jr., Elspeth Rosen, Rousseau, Nicolette "Nicki" Rousseau, Ilsa Selwyn, Ludae Steele, and Laryssa "Lara" Stuart. Congratulations class of 1941!" Dumbledore gives a thunder of proud applause.

"Will Oberon Lestrange, please rise and come accept his award for Defence Against the Dark Arts Award." It is safe to say that Professor Lestrange looks proudly on as he gifts his own son with a trophy that is a glass dome over a solid wooden base. Whisps of white and blue energy dance around within the dome. A patronus representing each of the previous recipients bound and swim and fly within the dome. They fade into whisps that turn into the names and year the award was received.

Abraxas listens with mild interest to the list of graduates and awards. At the last, his hand clenches and releases just momentarily, and then taps on the table twice, before he applauds politely.

Walburga claps for Oberon on receiving the DADA award.

Samira settles back down to join the applause for Oberon. She smiles up at him as he rises to accept his award and her eyes follow him down towards Professor Lestrange.

Riddle gives Oberon's shoulder blade a quick pat before he stands and goes to accept his award. After the pat he joins in the applause.

Surprise, surprise. Or.. not so much. Still, Morrow allows a wry twist to set her lips as she watches Oberon make his way to the dais; continuing to applaud just as she had for all the others.

Along with the others, Antonin grins and lifts his hands, clapping for Oberon as his name is called out to receive the DADA award.

Oberon looks around to his housemates with a victorious grin as he rises. He saunters up to the podium with the swagger of a young man who is completely sure of his own abilities; this award clearly just proves it to the rest of the school. He accepts the beautiful trophy, shaking his father's hand and thanking him, then hoists his prize into the air triumphantly for all to see. Modesty, thy name is not Oberon Lestrange.

Once again, Josie claps. For the rest of the commencement, and especially Elspeth. She continues to clap for Oberon, as well, though not nearly as enthusiastically. Polite, but not excited in the least.

Having looked around, Vincent is quite unable to hold back a brief laugh as he notices Lissie's sliding roll over at the Hufflepuff table. "Well done…" he mutters, looking to the graduates again. There's a brief pause as he hears the announcement of Oberon's award, applauding with the others.

Lara laughs at the expression on Phae's face, ushering her forward to receive her awards and cheering loudly. When Hephaesta finally settles back on the bench she touches her arm and squeezes lightly. "Congratulations!" Then her own name is called by the Headmaster. Dutifully she receives her commencement. No awards for her, but no matter. She beams at Hephaesta proudly and - unintentionally? - forgets to join the applause for Oberon.

Aislin arches an eyebrow at Lissie's surreptitious arrival. She adopts a quiet little smirk, immediately lifting her quill to make a note in her journal.

Hephaesta offers Lara a smile as she returns to her seat, her "Congratulations" not quite audible over the applause.

The award giving continues. Cillian Peele wins the Crystal Ball for Divination. Harriet "Hattie" Wilkins wins the silver mandrake in a crystal pot for Herbology. George Blishwick wins the stone slab that glows with runes of all sorts. Ignatius Prewett receives the ever changing trophy for Transfiguration.

Brand Palancher is called up to accept a golden broom trophy with a 10 sickle gift card to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Madam Hooch is brimming with pride as she passes the award to the First Year who displayed the most excellent of Broomflying skills.

Mateo Lovegood claps loudly for Melody as she is called out for her award, and then once she has returned to the table, he leans over to say, "Congratulations Melody! You have made us all so proud!" It is clear that the rare Hufflepuff Lovegood is not only being polite and truly means what he says to the girl.

Paying attention to the awards is becoming just a little difficult for Violet, as the growling of her stomach drowns out some of the names being called. She glances around to see if anyone noticed, but it seems she's the only one who did. She pats her stomach, as if placating it for the next few minutes. Gladdy gives her friend a curious glance, but shrugs and goes right back to clapping and cheering for friends and housemates.

When it comes time for the Flying Award to be handed out, Brand leaps to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. He hurries up to the dais to accept his trophy and prize and, with them in hand, turns to the student body. He waves, takes a small bow, and waves again, generally acting as though winning this award was inevitable. Then he returns to the Gryffindor table, still beaming.

Samira's smile quirks a bit wider as Oberon lofts his trophy high over his head. She settles back onto her elbows to watch the rest of the awards be claimed.

Though she's enthusiastically clapping for Brand as he's awarded his Gift Card - well hey, nothing brings folks peacefully together like flying, right? Hah. - Erica does nod in vehement agreement with Mateo's words to Melody, flashing the other girl a shy smile.

Josie is once again enthusiastic as Cillian wins his award, applauding again. Also for Brand, giving him a grin. Other than clapping, however, she stays quiet, just cheerfully watching and applauding.

"He's not exactly.. subtle, is he." remarks Rosetta Bulstrode in a mutter toward Morrow, her gaze lingering on Lestrange following that macho display. And no, not in an impressed manner. Then again, Rosetta rarely looks anything other than grouchy. It's just the way her face is, unfortunately.

"No. He's not." Morrow's reply is simple and soft-spoken. But, unlike her friend's manner, there's only a hint of mild amusement apparent from the brunette. Bulstrode grunts, visibly irked at not having roused more of a response to the barb. There's a glance of cold dislike toward the Slytherin boy when he passes again, then she just avoids looking his way again at all.

Professor Binns nearly puts the whole crowd to sleep as he goes on and on about the full history of the award for History of Magic. But thankfully Dumbledore points to the Slytherin Table and waves up, "Tom Riddle." To accept the gilded book of Hogwarts, A History. That is a complete edition, every little bit of information that was ever put in the book or taken out is within the golden cover. Binns is still going on as Tom heads up to accept the award from Dumbledore. He gives the crowd an aristocratic smile and nod of his head in gratitude but he's already opening up the book and thumbing through the pages as he heads back to his spot at the Slytherin Table.

As Dumbledore notes the squirming going on throughout much of the student body, he chuckles. Speaking over the still droning ghostly professor who's only in the 13th century, "And now, before everyone wastes away." The stately wizard raises his hands, and the food appears on the tables, looking delicious and smelling even better. "Let the feast begin!"

Antonin claps loudly for Riddle as he is called out for his award, his smile widening as Slytherin has now won its own share of awards. Once Riddle returns to the table, Dolohov leans in and says, "Well done, Tom!"

Food, glorious food! Doesn't it seem as though someone should compose a song along those lines? Following the applause for the studious young Riddle, Morrow and her friends get stuck in about the platters and bowls that have suddenly materialised before them, heaping their plates with a little of everything and gratefully picking up their chatter where they left off. Well, in the case of the other four, anyway. Morrow herself interjects only now and then, or when an enquiry's made that she can be bothered to answer. She's been fending off a lot of similar questions all day, after all. Can't she just enjoy her dinner in peace? No, probably not.

Abraxas digs into the food, after looking on blandly at the distributed awards. He doesn't seem particularly jovial, but he does offer his congratulations to Tom and Oberon on their wins.

Lara looks bemused as Riddle receives his award but applauds in honest. "I wonder why the Sorting Hat has placed /him/ in Slytherin. I think he would have done better with a different set of friends." she says to no one in particular. "Fourth year and already awarded in History of Magic of all subjects!" However, when the food appears, Tom Riddle is soon forgotten.

With the ceremony over Asmund looks down the Hufflepuff Table to congratulate those who walked each by name. "What are your plans now that you're free?" He then smiles and points to those he knows have interest in Quidditch, "Speaking of freedom, I look forward to seeing each of you at Quidditch Camp. Even outside of camp I would like the Team, and those interested in joining the Team to come to Hogsmeade for some pick up games and practice over the summer. Who's interested?" Several chicken drumsticks are put onto a heap of mash and a few roasted glazed carrots also decorate his plate.

Samira joins the enthusiastic applause at the Slytherin table as Tom Riddle heads up to accept his prize. But the food appears, and folding her other leg beneath herself for added height at the table, she tucks in.

Pulling down his scarf a bit so that he can eat, Virgil finally puts his book away as the feast begins. Settling it down beside him, he takes the time to select the proper savories and makes a neat pile of his favories, and then looks to the others at his table, as if only becoming aware of them now that the food has forced his attention away from the book.

Walburga is counting something, as her finger is pointing at each award winner. She's quiet for a moment, gesturing for a bun to be passed her way. Ripping a piece off, she chews it thoughtfully before tossing a glance over at Abraxas.

Lissie ducks her head shyly, though she mutters a soft "thanks" to Vincent. Melody does, though, get a burst of applause. And then she smiles and eyes the feast. But the smile soon fades as she looks at Asmund. "Erm…. I'd like tae be on the team, try for it, anyhow…. but… mum's a…. squib and da's a muggle, an…. he's not too keen on my being here as 'tis. An'… we cannae really afford camp. I…. ermm… wel. THanks, though." She looks at the food again, then shrugs.

Finding herself likewise looking up from a book and suddenly in the midst of a throng, Jaclyn blinks from behind her glasses before her gaze settles bemusedly on Virgil across the way. Oh. Food. Right. Daintily helping herself to a serving, the blonde offers a cheerful smile, now that she's roused. "What're you reading?" She's far less precise when it comes to the layout of her dinner, and she ladles on gravy as if there's a neverending supply. Which, in all fairness, there probably is.

Looking down the line toward Asmund, Mateo grins and says, "I was thinking of going out for Chaser next term. I was planning on going to the Quidditch Camp and had already invited Erica and Oscar out to my dad's farm to practice some stuff. You are welcome to come out as well. Anyone is really. It isn't like my dad will mind…. or notice."

Josie turns back to her food eagerly as it appears, digging in almost at once. Only after a few moments does she slow down, to look back up to those at her table. Since Billy had mentioned the summer being fun before the speeches started, she asks now, "What are you doing this summer?"

Rubeus glows like the sun when the food appears. "Oh, great! I'm starvin'!" The enormous boy begins to pile up his plate with buns, drumsticks, potatoes, compote, more buns, a slab of butter, sausages, some more buns, ham, a few more buns, and a dainty green garnish on top.

Primly draping a napkin in her lap - after surreptitiously polishing her silverware - Erica nods in assent to Mateo's words, without butting into the conversation. Her plate is laid out with care, the presentation of it apparently as important as the food itself. But that's such an ingrained habit by now, she prepares it almost unthinkingly, flitting a glance now and then to the Prefect and Asmund, offering each a slight smile.

Looking toward Josie as he heaps food upon his plate, Billy shrugs and says, "Oh, well. I live in Hogsmeade, you know? My sister and I live at the Three Broomsticks. It is a pretty fun time, really. You always see lots of interesting sorts making their way through the village. Plenty of magic in an all Magic village too. It is always fun! You should come by sometime, if you are ever in the village!"

There was another, much less talked about or noticed Ravenclaw/Slytherin pairing that had entered and separated at the ends of the tables. Elspeth Rosen had gone to her usual end seat closest to the doors while Noalan Eibon III had gone to his seat at Slytherin table. With her usual calm slightly marred by a warmer expression and a smile that remains in place most of the evening during awards and the acknowledgement of the graduates, as the feast begins, she finally finds a moment to lean over towards Brody and give him a tap on the arm. "Congratlations," she tells him, her hazel eyes beaming on him.

Virgil looking down at the book Jaclyn is referring to, Virgil has to take a second to figure out which book he was reading. Not because he's inattentive, but because there are usually a few he is sorting thru at any given time. "It um.." he has to think about the best way to describe it, "It's mostly just a few thoughts from uh.. noted minds, on the nature of magic. Nothing really solid. Magical theory. E-ephemeral stuff," he tells her with a smile.

Lissie reddens again. "I don' have a way of getting theer, but thank you. Besides, I think I'll be wanted tae home because my parents may…. erm. May be in London or Edinburgh for summer. In which case I'll be wanted for tae help with th' sheep…. An'… weel…. Don' have nae broom nohow." She ducks her head again, taking a little meat pie.

Josie grins to Billy between mouthfuls, and says, "I live there too, at the Fawley Farm. Never been to the Three Broomsticks much, though. But I will this year," she says with a smile.

Brody seems quite surprised by his awards, both of which are resting on the table before him. Turning his eyes toward Elspeth, he offers her a faint grin as he leans over and says, "Thank you. Who would have thought, huh? You spend up most nights trying to figure out how to make a broomstick fly and feeling like probably the least studious Ravenclaw ever and…" he gestures toward his awards, at a loss. "Congratulations to you, as well. Tonight is the last night, eh?"

Arching her brows as she chews on a hearty mouthful of pie, Jaclyn conveys her understanding across at Virgil with an enthused nod, waiting until she's managed to swallow before speaking. Manners, y'know. "..that sounds interesting. Better than what I brought, anyway.." She wrinkles her nose as she looks down at her own selection. Oh dear. One Thousand Magical Herbs & Fungi. And that has given her the appetite of a lumberjack?

Taking up his fork, Virgil eats slowly, so as to not aggravate his underlying health problems with undue haste. "Have you gotten to the section on swamp fungi? It's my favorite," he remarks even as he slowly picks at his food, each piece considered at length at the tip of his fork before he chews some measured number of times. "What's your name?" he asks. "I'm Virgil Goshawk, the seventh."

Violet is all smiles again, now that food is on the tables, and the small girl loads a surprising amount onto her plate. She pauses before digging in, her attention going to Elspeth and Brody. "Good on yah both. Ya'll be missed next year, Elspeth. Best Head Girl ever, I think." She lifts a fork full of potatoes in a salute to the older students, then happily starts eating.

Quite the opposite, Jaclyn is merrily packing the food away as if she were planning on hibernating. And again, she nods in assent, with a mouthful of potato this time. "I've read it a few times, actually. That is a good chapter." The blonde pauses, reaching for her juice and bringing it to her lips for a sip, only to arch her fair brows again over the rim at the lad as he introduces himself. "Mm.. sorry." Clearing her throat, she smiles across at Virgil. "I'm Jaclyn Summerbee. The first, far as I know."

Now that the hungry masses look more sated Dumbledore pats his mouth and goes back to the podium. "Before we dig into our desserts, let's have something to celebrate! Everyone please give your raucous applause for the Winners of both the Quidditch Cup and House Cup, Slytherin!"

Asmund tilts his head and smiles towards Mateo, "Is your farm 50 miles away from any Muggles?"

Despite a few disgruntled mutterings in the wake of Dumbledore's announcement, Morrow and those in her vicinity down tools and obligingly offer some applause. The dark-haired Ravenclaw herself offers a wryly amused smirk across toeward the Slytherin table, brightening a touch as her gaze happens upon Samira, tucked in amongst the other Knights, and of course offering Oberon a knowing look. Yes, yes. His House won. Fabulous. All down to him. Totally. Let's move on.

Momentarily meeting Oscar's gaze, Erica then dares a glance all the way across the hall at Antonin, who will no doubt be smugly celebrating with his housemates. Spearing a potato on her fork rather more viciously than really necessary, the little blonde ends up simply mashing it with the tines, lowering her gaze again before she's caught out and frowning down into her dinner. No. She's not going to clap. Not for him. It's not fair.

Setting down his utensils, Virgil applauds politely at the winning house and then goes back to eating once the hubbub settles back down. "Summerbee," he repeats it back to her, as if searching his memories for that name, and then nods at her a little, "Nice to meet you Jaclyn, funny how we haven't talked until today. Of all days. Don't suppose you're from London, are you?" he asks.

Walburga reaches for her cup at Dumbledore's announcement that Slytherin have won. She raises her cup to Abraxas and clears her throat before tossing a haughty look across her housemates at the table. "Well done, Malfoy. The house flourished this year underneath your gaze, so lets lift our cups in a toast to our prefect and our housemates for a good year. Character cannot be developed in calm or silence. Only through the experience of trials and challenges can we be strengthened, our ambition inspired and success achieved. To Slytherin!"

Josie looks up from her food, and again applauds politely, though a little more naturally so. There's enough Slytherins that she likes that this time isn't quite so grudging.

Antonin is indeed quite pleased and grins like a fox in the hen house, as it were, when Slytherin is called out as winner of both Cups. He claps his hands together and his eyes slide across the Great Hall to meet that look from Erica and his grin spreads even wider! As Walburga makes her toast, Antonin lifts his own glass and says, "Hear, hear!"

Amidst the cheers and self-congratulations going on at the Slytherin table, Oberon does glance over to meet Morrow's look. He looks proud as a peacock as he nods to her. It lasts but a moment as he is drawn back into Slytherin's celebration. He takes up a cup, "Well said, Walburga. To Abraxas Malfoy, for his dedication to our house's success."

When the cup is announced and other clap, most politely, Melody looks up, pauses a moment as if catching up, which she is, and then claps along with the others. Although it's debatable if she actually knows why. She looks over to Erica, and sees her abusing her potato. "There are some already mashed up," she says helpfully. "There, at the other end of the table." Her smile comes, lips parted over those slightly large front teeth, then she goes back to eating her own dinner.

"Oxford." replies Jaclyn, after the obligatory bit of applause. "And I suppose it is a little odd.. but well, at least we're speaking now!" She adds this last a little louder, to ensure she's heard over the celebrations from the other table, and accompanies the words with an apologetic grin. She's not the type to shout, usually.

"Thank you, Black. And thank you all for your hard work. We'll have twice as much to do next year." Abraxas says, and then, apparently having cheered up a bit, he says, with a little lift of his chin towards Oberon, "And I'll be having that next year, if you aren't careful." A cheeky grin, then he drinks, and then says, "And to us. Next year, we make Hogwarts great again."

Mateo shrugs his shoulders in reply to Asmund's question and says, "Not exactly fifty miles, no. But it is secluded and has trees standing up all around it. We would be safe from muggle eyes. I don't have real Quidditch balls, anyways. Just regular ones, so we'd have to pretend a bit on that, but we wouldn't have to worry about a Bludger or Snitch getting loose and flying off toward the Muggles."

With a blink, belatedly realising she's being spoken to, Erica looks up and mets Melody's gaze; momentarily bewildered. Oh. Right. Looking rather sheepish, she offers her Housemate a smile and does her best to ignore the warmth that's lending her cheeks a rosy hue. Scooting the battered remnants of the potato to the far side of her plate, the Hufflepuff sets to deciding, in a far more convincing, ladylike manner, which of those desserts she might like to sample first. Quickly, before anyone else cuts her a slice that's wonky or something equally unsettling.

"Well, brooms are not working without charms, are they? And your handiwork with charms has been on display at the Quidditch matches," Elspeth tells Brody with a grin. "And I have to admit, you are a bit better at potions than I am." She looks down the table at the other double winner for the night, and gives a smile to Hephaesta. "And, congratulations to you as well, Mulciber! I am not being surprised at all the awards for Ravenclaw." At Violet's words, she gets a little pink in the cheeks. "Thank you, I appreciate that very much." Her eyes glow on the younger student, but then the final awards are given out, and she steels herself to wear a polite smile for the Announcement of the Quidditch Cup, and then she keeps it plastered there when she finds Slytherin wins both cups, and manages to raise her hands for the proper applause.

Oberon snorts, patting his Defence Against the Dark Arts award — completely fairly awarded to him by his own father. "You can certainly try, Malfoy." Desite the hint of rivalry, he gives Abraxas a friendly pat on the back, laughing and enjoying their mutual triumph.

Asmund shakes his head. "You can get into real trouble, so be careful yeah?" He is done with eating with his hands and the drumsticks are just bones, so now he's got to ruin his modern art and disassemble his balancing silverward to use the spoon to start scooping mash into his hungry face. "I would be willing to front for anyone on the team or going for the team to go to Quidditch Camp. Floo Powder too if you need to get to Hogsmeade."

Walburga says "If you'll excuse me, now that the cup has been handed out, I have something to do." and up she stands. She moves away from her house table and begins to bee-line it over to the Gryffindor table. Oh my.

Billy claps exactly twice when the Cups are handed out. Clap… Clap. Afterward, his hands fall back to the tabletop and he grumbles as he stares at the desserts, obviously debating on if he can force himself to eat at all now. There is a gasp from a first year across from him, and Billy turns around to see Walburga heading for the Gryffindor table and the boy narrows his eyes suspiciously.

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