<![CDATA[Knockturn Bound - All Forums]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/ Sun, 04 Oct 2026 21:28:05 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Wilted with Worry :: OPEN]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1267 Wed, 02 Sep 2026 02:26:29 +0000 Matilda Nordstrom]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1267
Today, not so much.

It was the same as every other year. Weeds to pull. Potion ingredients to harvest. Plants to treat. Seeds to sow. Usually she couldn't wait to get her hands in the dirt. Today she wanted to scratch her name off the Hospital Wing signup sheet and crawl back into the Gryffindor common room to sulk.

"Ugggggh!"

This was her last year at Hogwarts, and she couldn't find it in herself to care.

The expectations were still there. Good grades. Pass her NEWTs. Be the perfect representative of both the Nordstrom and Zdravkova families. A year ago she would've rolled her eyes, muttered something rude under her breath, and done whatever she wanted anyway.

Now... Now it wasn't so simple.

She had a headache from trying to sort through everything rattling around inside her mind.

The etiquette course had changed more than she'd ever expected. It wasn't just which fork to use or how to greet a duchess without embarrassing herself. It was a whole new way of thinking. A thousand little expectations she'd never noticed before.

The worst part? Some of it had actually been... Fun.

She grimaced.

Not that she'd ever admit that aloud.

Then there had been the garden party. Beautiful weather. Beautiful decorations. Wonderful food. Everything had been perfect. Until Liliya had casually informed her that after the wedding she wouldn't be moving into a house somewhere with Drago.

She'd be moving into Harewood House. She hadn't even realized she'd been carrying that dream until someone took it away.

A little house. A garden. Just her... and Drago. Maybe children one day.

Much, much later.

Instead she'd be living under Oleg's roof. The thought still made her stomach twist.

Her outburst hadn't gone over well. Oleg had made certain she understood exactly what was expected of her. Ever since then, everything had felt... dark.

The excitement she'd finally started feeling about marrying Drago had become tinged with fear. It was easier when he was standing beside her. He somehow made all of it seem manageable. But he wasn't here now. He'd graduated. There would be no persistent Russian finding her in the greenhouse.

And Hogwarts now felt emptier without him.

sigh

A sound behind her pulled Matilda from her thoughts. Blinking, she turned toward the greenhouse entrance, forcing herself back into the present. A small smile finally appeared.

"Hey there." She brushed the dirt from her hands onto her apron. "Here to help me get this place back into shape?"]]>
Today, not so much.

It was the same as every other year. Weeds to pull. Potion ingredients to harvest. Plants to treat. Seeds to sow. Usually she couldn't wait to get her hands in the dirt. Today she wanted to scratch her name off the Hospital Wing signup sheet and crawl back into the Gryffindor common room to sulk.

"Ugggggh!"

This was her last year at Hogwarts, and she couldn't find it in herself to care.

The expectations were still there. Good grades. Pass her NEWTs. Be the perfect representative of both the Nordstrom and Zdravkova families. A year ago she would've rolled her eyes, muttered something rude under her breath, and done whatever she wanted anyway.

Now... Now it wasn't so simple.

She had a headache from trying to sort through everything rattling around inside her mind.

The etiquette course had changed more than she'd ever expected. It wasn't just which fork to use or how to greet a duchess without embarrassing herself. It was a whole new way of thinking. A thousand little expectations she'd never noticed before.

The worst part? Some of it had actually been... Fun.

She grimaced.

Not that she'd ever admit that aloud.

Then there had been the garden party. Beautiful weather. Beautiful decorations. Wonderful food. Everything had been perfect. Until Liliya had casually informed her that after the wedding she wouldn't be moving into a house somewhere with Drago.

She'd be moving into Harewood House. She hadn't even realized she'd been carrying that dream until someone took it away.

A little house. A garden. Just her... and Drago. Maybe children one day.

Much, much later.

Instead she'd be living under Oleg's roof. The thought still made her stomach twist.

Her outburst hadn't gone over well. Oleg had made certain she understood exactly what was expected of her. Ever since then, everything had felt... dark.

The excitement she'd finally started feeling about marrying Drago had become tinged with fear. It was easier when he was standing beside her. He somehow made all of it seem manageable. But he wasn't here now. He'd graduated. There would be no persistent Russian finding her in the greenhouse.

And Hogwarts now felt emptier without him.

sigh

A sound behind her pulled Matilda from her thoughts. Blinking, she turned toward the greenhouse entrance, forcing herself back into the present. A small smile finally appeared.

"Hey there." She brushed the dirt from her hands onto her apron. "Here to help me get this place back into shape?"]]> <![CDATA[Dorset Coast - Happier || Rossian]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1266 Wed, 02 Sep 2026 02:15:33 +0000 Cassian McCormick]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1266 Sunday, January 7, 1923
~ 2 PM

"Almost there; keep going."

Cassian led his wife through the field of knee-high wildflowers and tall grasses. It would've been easier to take the floo he'd had set up – probably a good time to test that it worked, too. But, no. For a reveal like this, he wanted the full effect of travelling even a part of the terrain while he built anticipation for where they were headed.

It had been months in the making and numerous hours of manual labour both with his father and on his own. There were weekends when he'd disappeared without an explanation, outright avoiding handing one over even when asked. To say the young man had been elusive would've been the understatement of the century, yet, given how...raw some of their emotions still were, he'd always tried to be as clear as he could that it was nothing Rosie had to worry about. Whether she believed him was something outside of his control, but he'd been working.

The proof of that crested the horizon of the wide meadow, the top of the roofing coming into view. He'd finished the panelling with his father just the weekend before, his father performing a few stress tests after to make sure the first rain wouldn't see them flooded.

They hadn't been walking for long, maybe only 10 mins from where he'd first apparated them, but he was no more inclined to tell her where they were going. It was a surprise and had been since that October evening when his father first took him out there, explaining it was his way of helping. His father tried, imperfectly at times, but the man could never be accused of being insincere. He'd seen his son floating directionlessly, craving stability and a sense of accomplishment. It had been enough for him to speak to a friend who didn't mind parting with a piece of his field for a reasonable price. His father paid it, and he was slowly making payments back to him – by his own insistence. In another three months, they would be all squared. Together, they'd gotten to work, laying each stone and carving out each piece of furniture. There were times when magic had been necessary, but it had otherwise been a project worth more than a vault full of gold.

The time they spent together had helped them more than any pep talk or fishing trip ever had. With sweat on their brows and a shared purpose, the men had worked their way through several emotions.

Now, it was done, and Cassian was ready for his wife to see the fruit of his devotion to providing her with a better life... once he took the blindfold off, of course.

"Not much further," he assured, getting them over the gentle slope and into the yard he'd so carefully tended. Cass hadn't wanted to wait until the end to plant and nourish their yard. When he showed her the cottage, the boy wanted all her favourite flowers to already either be in bloom or damn near on their way but waiting for spring. The result was a lush garden with verdant bushes and beds of flowers and herbs in neat rows that ran along the short stone wall that enclosed the cottage, keeping the rest of the untamed meadow out.

Cass took her around the side of the cottage before the landscape opened up to the cliff with its crashing waves down below.

"Ready?"

He sucked in a breath, realising it was the moment where all his hard work culminated into a final judgement. Would she love it? Hate it? Think he should've gotten her input on what their home should look like? It was too late to worry about all that now. Rebuilding would take months, and he would need her verdict before he began.

Cassian vanished the blindfold to reveal the work of his bare hands.]]> Sunday, January 7, 1923
~ 2 PM

"Almost there; keep going."

Cassian led his wife through the field of knee-high wildflowers and tall grasses. It would've been easier to take the floo he'd had set up – probably a good time to test that it worked, too. But, no. For a reveal like this, he wanted the full effect of travelling even a part of the terrain while he built anticipation for where they were headed.

It had been months in the making and numerous hours of manual labour both with his father and on his own. There were weekends when he'd disappeared without an explanation, outright avoiding handing one over even when asked. To say the young man had been elusive would've been the understatement of the century, yet, given how...raw some of their emotions still were, he'd always tried to be as clear as he could that it was nothing Rosie had to worry about. Whether she believed him was something outside of his control, but he'd been working.

The proof of that crested the horizon of the wide meadow, the top of the roofing coming into view. He'd finished the panelling with his father just the weekend before, his father performing a few stress tests after to make sure the first rain wouldn't see them flooded.

They hadn't been walking for long, maybe only 10 mins from where he'd first apparated them, but he was no more inclined to tell her where they were going. It was a surprise and had been since that October evening when his father first took him out there, explaining it was his way of helping. His father tried, imperfectly at times, but the man could never be accused of being insincere. He'd seen his son floating directionlessly, craving stability and a sense of accomplishment. It had been enough for him to speak to a friend who didn't mind parting with a piece of his field for a reasonable price. His father paid it, and he was slowly making payments back to him – by his own insistence. In another three months, they would be all squared. Together, they'd gotten to work, laying each stone and carving out each piece of furniture. There were times when magic had been necessary, but it had otherwise been a project worth more than a vault full of gold.

The time they spent together had helped them more than any pep talk or fishing trip ever had. With sweat on their brows and a shared purpose, the men had worked their way through several emotions.

Now, it was done, and Cassian was ready for his wife to see the fruit of his devotion to providing her with a better life... once he took the blindfold off, of course.

"Not much further," he assured, getting them over the gentle slope and into the yard he'd so carefully tended. Cass hadn't wanted to wait until the end to plant and nourish their yard. When he showed her the cottage, the boy wanted all her favourite flowers to already either be in bloom or damn near on their way but waiting for spring. The result was a lush garden with verdant bushes and beds of flowers and herbs in neat rows that ran along the short stone wall that enclosed the cottage, keeping the rest of the untamed meadow out.

Cass took her around the side of the cottage before the landscape opened up to the cliff with its crashing waves down below.

"Ready?"

He sucked in a breath, realising it was the moment where all his hard work culminated into a final judgement. Would she love it? Hate it? Think he should've gotten her input on what their home should look like? It was too late to worry about all that now. Rebuilding would take months, and he would need her verdict before he began.

Cassian vanished the blindfold to reveal the work of his bare hands.]]> <![CDATA[Finding a Friend :: Katerina]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1265 Tue, 01 Sep 2026 23:30:23 +0000 Matilda Nordstrom]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1265 ”What about this one Matilda, it would look fabulous with your hair.”[i] Allegra asked, holding up a dress in a vibrant green color. This wasn’t an emerald green, or mint or even kelly. If pressed, the only world that came to mind was pea soup. If she said those words aloud Allegra would scowl. Then buy the dress anyway just to spite her.

Chartreuse… that was the color.

While it was true that Matilda looked great in green, this shade didn’t look good on anyone. Thankfully it was a summer cut, so she had a good excuse to leave it on the rack.

”We’ve found a lot of summer dresses, I was hoping for some more fall and winter options. I’m sure there will be occasions over the Christmas holiday.”

Allegra nodded, putting the offending fabric back on the rack. Drago would be so proud of her. No swear words were said, even though a few choice ones came to mind at the site of the dress.

Look at that… being all lady-like.

[i]”I’m sure you will need a few for Hogsmeade visits. A nice rust orange could be nice.”

For the love of all things holy, this woman must be color blind. For Merlin’s sake, SHE was also a red head, why would she ever think that rust orange would look good with her flaming red hair.

Not wanting to fight, Matilda kept her mouth shut. Being magical gave her the advantage of transfiguration. The color could be changed. And it would be.



"What about this one, Matilda? It would look fabulous with your hair," Allegra asked, holding up a dress in a violent shade of green.

This wasn't emerald. Or mint. Or even kelly.

If Matilda had to describe it, the closest comparison that came to mind was pea soup. She wisely kept that observation to herself.

Chartreuse. That was the word.

While she generally looked wonderful in green, this particular shade looked good on absolutely no one. Thankfully it was cut for summer, which gave her the perfect excuse to leave it where it belonged.

"We've found quite a few dresses for summer," Matilda said pleasantly. "I was hoping we might look for something for autumn and winter instead. I'm sure there will be plenty of occasions over Christmas."

Allegra nodded approvingly before returning the offending garment to the rack.

Drago would be so proud. Not a single sarcastic remark had escaped her lips. She was practically becoming civilized.

"I'm sure you'll need several for Hogsmeade weekends. Perhaps a lovely rust orange."

Matilda smiled. She smiled because Mrs. Beaumont had spent an entire afternoon explaining that ladies did not visibly shriek in horror. She smiled because apparently she was now an expert in self control.

She smiled because if she opened her mouth right now, she might accidentally ask whether Allegra had recently become color blind.

Rust orange. On a redhead. Merlin save her.

Instead, she tried to look anywhere but at her grandmother.

"That would be... memorable." It wasn't a lie. Fortunately, transfiguration existed.

If the woman actually bought the dress, it would mysteriously become emerald green the first chance Matilda got.

As they continued through the boutique, bolts of fabric and racks of dresses surrounded them in every direction. Silk, lace, velvet, chiffon. Enough clothing to outfit a small country.

Matilda's attention drifted toward the front of the shop, more interested in watching the people passing outside than another lecture on proper sleeve lengths. Without looking where she was going, she stepped backward.

Directly into someone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she said automatically, turning to face her victim.

Her eyes widened. For just a heartbeat she simply stared. Then every lesson about composure, manners and the appropriate way to greet a friend nearly flew out the window.

"...Kate?"]]> ”What about this one Matilda, it would look fabulous with your hair.”[i] Allegra asked, holding up a dress in a vibrant green color. This wasn’t an emerald green, or mint or even kelly. If pressed, the only world that came to mind was pea soup. If she said those words aloud Allegra would scowl. Then buy the dress anyway just to spite her.

Chartreuse… that was the color.

While it was true that Matilda looked great in green, this shade didn’t look good on anyone. Thankfully it was a summer cut, so she had a good excuse to leave it on the rack.

”We’ve found a lot of summer dresses, I was hoping for some more fall and winter options. I’m sure there will be occasions over the Christmas holiday.”

Allegra nodded, putting the offending fabric back on the rack. Drago would be so proud of her. No swear words were said, even though a few choice ones came to mind at the site of the dress.

Look at that… being all lady-like.

[i]”I’m sure you will need a few for Hogsmeade visits. A nice rust orange could be nice.”

For the love of all things holy, this woman must be color blind. For Merlin’s sake, SHE was also a red head, why would she ever think that rust orange would look good with her flaming red hair.

Not wanting to fight, Matilda kept her mouth shut. Being magical gave her the advantage of transfiguration. The color could be changed. And it would be.



"What about this one, Matilda? It would look fabulous with your hair," Allegra asked, holding up a dress in a violent shade of green.

This wasn't emerald. Or mint. Or even kelly.

If Matilda had to describe it, the closest comparison that came to mind was pea soup. She wisely kept that observation to herself.

Chartreuse. That was the word.

While she generally looked wonderful in green, this particular shade looked good on absolutely no one. Thankfully it was cut for summer, which gave her the perfect excuse to leave it where it belonged.

"We've found quite a few dresses for summer," Matilda said pleasantly. "I was hoping we might look for something for autumn and winter instead. I'm sure there will be plenty of occasions over Christmas."

Allegra nodded approvingly before returning the offending garment to the rack.

Drago would be so proud. Not a single sarcastic remark had escaped her lips. She was practically becoming civilized.

"I'm sure you'll need several for Hogsmeade weekends. Perhaps a lovely rust orange."

Matilda smiled. She smiled because Mrs. Beaumont had spent an entire afternoon explaining that ladies did not visibly shriek in horror. She smiled because apparently she was now an expert in self control.

She smiled because if she opened her mouth right now, she might accidentally ask whether Allegra had recently become color blind.

Rust orange. On a redhead. Merlin save her.

Instead, she tried to look anywhere but at her grandmother.

"That would be... memorable." It wasn't a lie. Fortunately, transfiguration existed.

If the woman actually bought the dress, it would mysteriously become emerald green the first chance Matilda got.

As they continued through the boutique, bolts of fabric and racks of dresses surrounded them in every direction. Silk, lace, velvet, chiffon. Enough clothing to outfit a small country.

Matilda's attention drifted toward the front of the shop, more interested in watching the people passing outside than another lecture on proper sleeve lengths. Without looking where she was going, she stepped backward.

Directly into someone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she said automatically, turning to face her victim.

Her eyes widened. For just a heartbeat she simply stared. Then every lesson about composure, manners and the appropriate way to greet a friend nearly flew out the window.

"...Kate?"]]> <![CDATA[WW Adult Application: Jameson Clarence Ziegler]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1264 Tue, 01 Sep 2026 08:00:11 +0000 Jamie Ziegler]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1264 [Image: wizardingworld.png]
General Information

Character Name:
Jameson Clarence Ziegler

Type of Character:
Adult

Age:
19

Date of Birth:
22 November 1903

Blood Status:
Muggleborn

Residence:
England, America

Family:
Loralei Ziegler (mother)
Eugene Ziegler (father)
Melinda Ziegler (twin sister)

Occupation:


Personality & History

Personality:
As a young lad, Jamie was loud, brash, and practically bouncing off the walls. He never listened to his parents or his teachers. School was dull, and he hadn’t the attention span for books and studying. Instead, he was out getting into trouble with the fellow gangs of neighborhood rapscallions.

Now, Jamie has outgrown his rabble-rouser self. Mostly. He has the self awareness to respect authority and act like a civilized member of society, but he still carries the echoes of his rambunctious childhood. He enjoys small thrills and is still drawn to the wild side of life. And of course, Jamie’s worst and most chaotic ideas come to him when he’s inebriated. Regardless, he’s always one to enjoy a good laugh, joking around with others.

His childhood wasn’t perfect, and his fraught relationship with his absent yet critical father has molded Jamie into a sort of people pleaser. He has a hard time saying no to people for fear of disappointing them, and he has a lingering feeling that he’s not doing enough with his life.

Jamie is quick to act, and still has trouble sitting still. At times, it may seem like he doesn't have a care in the world. But Jamie cares deeply, and will lay down his life for his loved ones. Blondie packs a punch– being from a “No-maj” family, Jamie prefers his fists over hexes or jinxes, any day. Consequences be damned. He wears his heart on his sleeve, with everything– especially romantically, as he falls for people easily and often. Hasn’t quite found that fabled true love connection, though…

Lastly, Jamie isn’t known for being the sharpest tool in the shed. The obliviousness can land him in hot water from time to time, but he does his best. That doesn’t mean he’s a complete dunce, though. What he lacks in book smarts, he makes up for in other areas; he can be pretty perceptive when he puts in effort. He’s a rough-around-the-edges working boy with a heart of gold. What’s not to love?


History:
When Jamie and his sister, Melinda, came into the world, it was more of an accident than anything. It wasn’t any fault of Jamie’s mother, the saint. Loralei Greenspan was nineteen and swept into a shotgun wedding, which only happened because Eugene Ziegler’s father was the head of a prominent factory in the area. There were appearances to be kept up, even if Eugene was only a lowly second son.

Luckily, the growing city of Portland, Oregon provided more than enough stimulation for the two growing children. Jamie was free to run amok, with Mel trailing behind. Plenty to distract them from their father favoring the bottle over his own family. As Jamie got older, his father appeared less and less. The brunt of the household fell on his mother. When his father did choose to appear, it was mostly to get angry at something trivial, or to reprimand Jamie for not being manly enough. Jamie tried his best to take it in stride, but his father’s words and his mother’s tears left more scars than he thought.

Despite the hardship, Loralei loved her children with her whole heart, and did her best to support them in everything. (Even when Jamie had her at her wit’s end…) She was there for some of Jamie’s best memories. Most notably, of course, the day that Jamie and Mel got their letters from the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And oh, what a day. Jamie had first used magic after a nasty spill in an old brewery yard (don’t ask). Split his chin right open, but it had healed up by the next morning. He hadn’t thought much of the incident after that, but to know that it had been magic? Magic was real, and so were wizards, and he was a wizard, and so was Mel!

At Ilvermorny, Jamie was promptly sorted into Thunderbird House, and so began some of the best years of his life. Post-graduation, he and Mel returned to Oregon. Jamie had considerably mellowed out by now, but that thirst for adventure hadn’t left him. He was more restless than before– he wanted to see the world, meet new people, live life to the fullest. Imagine his excitement when a job offer came out of the blue. It was from a friend of a friend of his father’s, and it was to go work in England, of all places. Jamie knew factory work like the back of his hand, so that was no big sweat– but this opportunity was too good to pass up. Portland was the same old city that it had always been, his mother was doing all right for herself, and his father could care less. So why the hell not?

Jamie hopped on the first boat headed to London. Mel was by his side, as always, having found her own reasons to go across the pond. Jamie was glad for that. It was nice to have his sister along for the ride, just like when they were kids. Now, he’s settling into London life, ready for whatever The Old Smoke throws at him.


Prompt Response:
(Magic + Muggle)

This night had been somewhat of a mistake. Jamie was six drinks deep, and his head swimming like nothing else. Somehow, he had stumbled out of the speakeasy's back door and managed to sit down on the small set of steps. The air out here in the alley did little to relieve his drunkenness-- but who cared?

"You only turn eighteen once," Jamie said aloud. “I do what I fuckin' want."

To emphasize this point (to himself), he yanked his wand out of his coat pocket. "Heh. Been a while, old girl. Do you still have it in you?" He waved it in a lazy circle, muttering a spell under his breath. A nice shower of golden sparks shot out of the tip. It was like the Fourth of July.

"Ha!" Jamie snorted. "Gorgeous girl, I guess so." God, he missed Ilvermorny. The professors there were stuck-up snobs, but at least it wasn't a boring place. And the weather in Massachusetts was similar enough to Oregon.

"There you are!" The door swung open with a bang. "What the hell are you doing out here, Ziegler? We're missing you at the bar." His buddy Frank stepped out, just as a plume of fire shot out of Jamie's wand and ignited a stray pile of newspaper.

Fwoosh!

That was not ideal.

"Holy shit!" Frank yelped, looking from the wand to the rapidly spreading fire. "How-- what--"

Jamie sprang upwards. "Help me put it out!" He rushed to stamp out the flames. Frank, still flabbergasted, joined in. With good effort, the fire eventually puffed out, though not without a fair bit of sputtering and thick smoke. It seemed almost disappointed to go.

The two young men stood there, panting.

"All right... So, I definitely just saw you torch that with a stick," Frank said, point-blank. "Care to explain?"

Jamie made a strange, squeaky coughing noise in the back of his throat, not unlike a car engine failing. "Oh, that?" He started. Act natural, Ziegler. Cool as a cucumber. "That-- that was nothing."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

"Yup," Jamie nodded. Time to double down. When in doubt, deny, deny, deny. "Nothing. A fluke. A trick of the light-- Look, Frank," He took his hands off of his hips and held them aloft. "You're drunk, I'm drunk, we're both absolutely pickled. Didn't you swear you saw Clara Bow when we first got here?"

Frank opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he sagged like a deflated balloon. "Yes..."

"This night has been wild for everyone," Jamie concluded. "Whatever you saw, no matter how scary, it'll be gone by morning. Now," He grinned widely and comandeered his friend by the shoulders, back towards the door.

"How 'bout we get back in there and keep the party going? Bet I can find you a doll who's even peachier than Clara..."



Miscellaneous

Other Characters
Reyna Durand

How did you find us?
Eli!]]> [Image: wizardingworld.png]
General Information

Character Name:
Jameson Clarence Ziegler

Type of Character:
Adult

Age:
19

Date of Birth:
22 November 1903

Blood Status:
Muggleborn

Residence:
England, America

Family:
Loralei Ziegler (mother)
Eugene Ziegler (father)
Melinda Ziegler (twin sister)

Occupation:


Personality & History

Personality:
As a young lad, Jamie was loud, brash, and practically bouncing off the walls. He never listened to his parents or his teachers. School was dull, and he hadn’t the attention span for books and studying. Instead, he was out getting into trouble with the fellow gangs of neighborhood rapscallions.

Now, Jamie has outgrown his rabble-rouser self. Mostly. He has the self awareness to respect authority and act like a civilized member of society, but he still carries the echoes of his rambunctious childhood. He enjoys small thrills and is still drawn to the wild side of life. And of course, Jamie’s worst and most chaotic ideas come to him when he’s inebriated. Regardless, he’s always one to enjoy a good laugh, joking around with others.

His childhood wasn’t perfect, and his fraught relationship with his absent yet critical father has molded Jamie into a sort of people pleaser. He has a hard time saying no to people for fear of disappointing them, and he has a lingering feeling that he’s not doing enough with his life.

Jamie is quick to act, and still has trouble sitting still. At times, it may seem like he doesn't have a care in the world. But Jamie cares deeply, and will lay down his life for his loved ones. Blondie packs a punch– being from a “No-maj” family, Jamie prefers his fists over hexes or jinxes, any day. Consequences be damned. He wears his heart on his sleeve, with everything– especially romantically, as he falls for people easily and often. Hasn’t quite found that fabled true love connection, though…

Lastly, Jamie isn’t known for being the sharpest tool in the shed. The obliviousness can land him in hot water from time to time, but he does his best. That doesn’t mean he’s a complete dunce, though. What he lacks in book smarts, he makes up for in other areas; he can be pretty perceptive when he puts in effort. He’s a rough-around-the-edges working boy with a heart of gold. What’s not to love?


History:
When Jamie and his sister, Melinda, came into the world, it was more of an accident than anything. It wasn’t any fault of Jamie’s mother, the saint. Loralei Greenspan was nineteen and swept into a shotgun wedding, which only happened because Eugene Ziegler’s father was the head of a prominent factory in the area. There were appearances to be kept up, even if Eugene was only a lowly second son.

Luckily, the growing city of Portland, Oregon provided more than enough stimulation for the two growing children. Jamie was free to run amok, with Mel trailing behind. Plenty to distract them from their father favoring the bottle over his own family. As Jamie got older, his father appeared less and less. The brunt of the household fell on his mother. When his father did choose to appear, it was mostly to get angry at something trivial, or to reprimand Jamie for not being manly enough. Jamie tried his best to take it in stride, but his father’s words and his mother’s tears left more scars than he thought.

Despite the hardship, Loralei loved her children with her whole heart, and did her best to support them in everything. (Even when Jamie had her at her wit’s end…) She was there for some of Jamie’s best memories. Most notably, of course, the day that Jamie and Mel got their letters from the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And oh, what a day. Jamie had first used magic after a nasty spill in an old brewery yard (don’t ask). Split his chin right open, but it had healed up by the next morning. He hadn’t thought much of the incident after that, but to know that it had been magic? Magic was real, and so were wizards, and he was a wizard, and so was Mel!

At Ilvermorny, Jamie was promptly sorted into Thunderbird House, and so began some of the best years of his life. Post-graduation, he and Mel returned to Oregon. Jamie had considerably mellowed out by now, but that thirst for adventure hadn’t left him. He was more restless than before– he wanted to see the world, meet new people, live life to the fullest. Imagine his excitement when a job offer came out of the blue. It was from a friend of a friend of his father’s, and it was to go work in England, of all places. Jamie knew factory work like the back of his hand, so that was no big sweat– but this opportunity was too good to pass up. Portland was the same old city that it had always been, his mother was doing all right for herself, and his father could care less. So why the hell not?

Jamie hopped on the first boat headed to London. Mel was by his side, as always, having found her own reasons to go across the pond. Jamie was glad for that. It was nice to have his sister along for the ride, just like when they were kids. Now, he’s settling into London life, ready for whatever The Old Smoke throws at him.


Prompt Response:
(Magic + Muggle)

This night had been somewhat of a mistake. Jamie was six drinks deep, and his head swimming like nothing else. Somehow, he had stumbled out of the speakeasy's back door and managed to sit down on the small set of steps. The air out here in the alley did little to relieve his drunkenness-- but who cared?

"You only turn eighteen once," Jamie said aloud. “I do what I fuckin' want."

To emphasize this point (to himself), he yanked his wand out of his coat pocket. "Heh. Been a while, old girl. Do you still have it in you?" He waved it in a lazy circle, muttering a spell under his breath. A nice shower of golden sparks shot out of the tip. It was like the Fourth of July.

"Ha!" Jamie snorted. "Gorgeous girl, I guess so." God, he missed Ilvermorny. The professors there were stuck-up snobs, but at least it wasn't a boring place. And the weather in Massachusetts was similar enough to Oregon.

"There you are!" The door swung open with a bang. "What the hell are you doing out here, Ziegler? We're missing you at the bar." His buddy Frank stepped out, just as a plume of fire shot out of Jamie's wand and ignited a stray pile of newspaper.

Fwoosh!

That was not ideal.

"Holy shit!" Frank yelped, looking from the wand to the rapidly spreading fire. "How-- what--"

Jamie sprang upwards. "Help me put it out!" He rushed to stamp out the flames. Frank, still flabbergasted, joined in. With good effort, the fire eventually puffed out, though not without a fair bit of sputtering and thick smoke. It seemed almost disappointed to go.

The two young men stood there, panting.

"All right... So, I definitely just saw you torch that with a stick," Frank said, point-blank. "Care to explain?"

Jamie made a strange, squeaky coughing noise in the back of his throat, not unlike a car engine failing. "Oh, that?" He started. Act natural, Ziegler. Cool as a cucumber. "That-- that was nothing."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

"Yup," Jamie nodded. Time to double down. When in doubt, deny, deny, deny. "Nothing. A fluke. A trick of the light-- Look, Frank," He took his hands off of his hips and held them aloft. "You're drunk, I'm drunk, we're both absolutely pickled. Didn't you swear you saw Clara Bow when we first got here?"

Frank opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he sagged like a deflated balloon. "Yes..."

"This night has been wild for everyone," Jamie concluded. "Whatever you saw, no matter how scary, it'll be gone by morning. Now," He grinned widely and comandeered his friend by the shoulders, back towards the door.

"How 'bout we get back in there and keep the party going? Bet I can find you a doll who's even peachier than Clara..."



Miscellaneous

Other Characters
Reyna Durand

How did you find us?
Eli!]]> <![CDATA[Gravenmere Court - A Late August Row | Benji]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1263 Tue, 01 Sep 2026 07:11:40 +0000 Ellen Graymere]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1263 Saturday,
25th of August, 1923.
3:15 pm.

The day was warm, and Ellen felt pleasantly drowsy. It had not been a typical afternoon, still wasn't, really. For one, the Minister for Magic was, at present, occupying a chair on their lawn. Two, she tilted the open parasol back from her shoulder a fraction, and there was Benji Laurence, in front of her, where he had been for some minutes. Three, and it was this fact, precisely, that had made the afternoon atypical. The Laurences had come through the hall Floo at some time half past ten, the Minister first and the rest of his family as the green fire gave them up. They had been greeted by all four Graymeres, her father at the center, set to shake the Minister's hand as though it were any neighbor's.

Benji was her priority, that was clear. She and William had been informed of the hosting on the nineteenth, and neither had said anything against it - not because they had nothing to say on the matter, but because the pair of them were far too sensible to speak about it at length. Their mother was not the hovering sort, exactly; she simply decided things, particularly once she and Father had conferred, and a decision in that quarter was rarely announced so much as discovered. The guest wing had been turned out, Heddy was already provisioning, and none of it had waited on the informing, which said something about when the matter had actually been settled.

William, for his part, had received the news with something nearer interest than resignation. A sitting Minister for Magic - in his lifetime - coming to Gravenmere. They had all seen the man before, naturally; the whole family had stood in the Ministry's atrium with the rest of Britain. But an atrium was one thing. Their table was another, and William had said as much at dinner the night before, twice, quite earnestly, and no one had argued with him.

And Ellen, whatever her own feelings on the arrangement - which were neither here nor there - could not pretend the visit was a small one. It was rather the opposite of small, and she knew it, and had dressed accordingly. A year ago the name Laurence had been a good name on a seating chart. Since January it had been the government. And the government's son was sitting before her. Well, 'son'.. that was an oversimplification, but not one she was disposed to argue with herself about. Benji was Laurence enough for every purpose the visit had.

Luncheon had run two hours, full of delicious things and plenty of conversation. But as the sun went long, William had turned around in his chair and proposed the lake: that the afternoon was being wasted, the water was flat, and he meant to have a turn of it before the light went. And what a lovely idea that was.

Oh, then be a dear and take the young people with you, their mother had said, sweetly. Whether any of that had landed on him as an imposition, Ellen could not tell. Oh, well.

By three they were down at the eastern boathouse, and out on the water before quarter past. William rowed even and unhurried, the oarlocks creaking in their leather at each catch. And the shore went away from them at the speed of a walk. She had looked back once. The lawn had already made the families into figures, with their chairs, tables, parasols, a scatter of color in which no house, no blood, no nation could be told apart at that distance.

Something about that image caused her brows to furrow, just ever so slightly.

And now, she was looking at Benji.

.. she was not sure what to say.

The rowing had slowed. William easing the oars in, letting the boat drift and with the creaking gone, the quiet came and settled. Maybe he had tired.

It was not a problem she was accustomed to having. Ellen generally knew the correct thing to say; the difficulty had simply never come up before, of what to say when nothing had been said to her first. When she thought about it, every conversation she and Benji Laurence had ever held had come attached to some form of.. purpose. Like, a house matter, a shared class, or, say, to react in some manner to whatever scampish thing he had said next. But she had never once simply talked with him, with no object in it. Six years of the same table, same house, and she could not confidently have said what he thought about any of it. Including, now, this.

She took a glance away, for a moment.

The lake was in one of its obliging moods. Flat, carrying the light all the way out from the shore, just enough breeze to keep them cool without being frightful across the skin. Along the north bank the oaks stood in their own reflections, and had done for as long as her family had; it was those which Father had made something of once, when she and William were very small. The tree and the water, one showing the other its true shape. She had not thought of it in years. But did so now, for no reason she could name. The rushes ran thick where the water went shallow, greener than the lawns and a good deal wilder, and the dragonflies were working along the margin. Out east, the herons kept their stations by the boathouse, still as they had been all afternoon, unbothered, as ever.

She didn't know if it would all be the same, come next summer. The way the water slid, the golden light. Two weeks from tonight she would be on the train, and next August there would be no train, and this was the last summer the lake would be hers in this particular way — a schoolgirl's. Free and so lovely. She liked rather that. The word, feeling it. How lovely things were.

Her gaze returned, and she thought she should speak. But there the matter of William. Right there at the oars, besides, taking in whatever she opened with, which rather narrowed the field.

Unless..

"I am sorry, Willie, but would you give us a moment?" she said, as she removed her wand from one of her skirt's deep pockets. She raised the wood, and cast; "Muffliato."

William, to his credit, asked nothing and said nothing as a distinct, but comparatively mild buzzing sound filled his ears. He shipped the oars properly, settled back against the thwart with his hat over his eyes, and became, without a word, scenery. An arrangement she suspected he had been waiting to make since the boathouse. Oh, sweet Willie.

"Benji," Ellen began, softly. "May I ask you a question?"]]> Saturday,
25th of August, 1923.
3:15 pm.

The day was warm, and Ellen felt pleasantly drowsy. It had not been a typical afternoon, still wasn't, really. For one, the Minister for Magic was, at present, occupying a chair on their lawn. Two, she tilted the open parasol back from her shoulder a fraction, and there was Benji Laurence, in front of her, where he had been for some minutes. Three, and it was this fact, precisely, that had made the afternoon atypical. The Laurences had come through the hall Floo at some time half past ten, the Minister first and the rest of his family as the green fire gave them up. They had been greeted by all four Graymeres, her father at the center, set to shake the Minister's hand as though it were any neighbor's.

Benji was her priority, that was clear. She and William had been informed of the hosting on the nineteenth, and neither had said anything against it - not because they had nothing to say on the matter, but because the pair of them were far too sensible to speak about it at length. Their mother was not the hovering sort, exactly; she simply decided things, particularly once she and Father had conferred, and a decision in that quarter was rarely announced so much as discovered. The guest wing had been turned out, Heddy was already provisioning, and none of it had waited on the informing, which said something about when the matter had actually been settled.

William, for his part, had received the news with something nearer interest than resignation. A sitting Minister for Magic - in his lifetime - coming to Gravenmere. They had all seen the man before, naturally; the whole family had stood in the Ministry's atrium with the rest of Britain. But an atrium was one thing. Their table was another, and William had said as much at dinner the night before, twice, quite earnestly, and no one had argued with him.

And Ellen, whatever her own feelings on the arrangement - which were neither here nor there - could not pretend the visit was a small one. It was rather the opposite of small, and she knew it, and had dressed accordingly. A year ago the name Laurence had been a good name on a seating chart. Since January it had been the government. And the government's son was sitting before her. Well, 'son'.. that was an oversimplification, but not one she was disposed to argue with herself about. Benji was Laurence enough for every purpose the visit had.

Luncheon had run two hours, full of delicious things and plenty of conversation. But as the sun went long, William had turned around in his chair and proposed the lake: that the afternoon was being wasted, the water was flat, and he meant to have a turn of it before the light went. And what a lovely idea that was.

Oh, then be a dear and take the young people with you, their mother had said, sweetly. Whether any of that had landed on him as an imposition, Ellen could not tell. Oh, well.

By three they were down at the eastern boathouse, and out on the water before quarter past. William rowed even and unhurried, the oarlocks creaking in their leather at each catch. And the shore went away from them at the speed of a walk. She had looked back once. The lawn had already made the families into figures, with their chairs, tables, parasols, a scatter of color in which no house, no blood, no nation could be told apart at that distance.

Something about that image caused her brows to furrow, just ever so slightly.

And now, she was looking at Benji.

.. she was not sure what to say.

The rowing had slowed. William easing the oars in, letting the boat drift and with the creaking gone, the quiet came and settled. Maybe he had tired.

It was not a problem she was accustomed to having. Ellen generally knew the correct thing to say; the difficulty had simply never come up before, of what to say when nothing had been said to her first. When she thought about it, every conversation she and Benji Laurence had ever held had come attached to some form of.. purpose. Like, a house matter, a shared class, or, say, to react in some manner to whatever scampish thing he had said next. But she had never once simply talked with him, with no object in it. Six years of the same table, same house, and she could not confidently have said what he thought about any of it. Including, now, this.

She took a glance away, for a moment.

The lake was in one of its obliging moods. Flat, carrying the light all the way out from the shore, just enough breeze to keep them cool without being frightful across the skin. Along the north bank the oaks stood in their own reflections, and had done for as long as her family had; it was those which Father had made something of once, when she and William were very small. The tree and the water, one showing the other its true shape. She had not thought of it in years. But did so now, for no reason she could name. The rushes ran thick where the water went shallow, greener than the lawns and a good deal wilder, and the dragonflies were working along the margin. Out east, the herons kept their stations by the boathouse, still as they had been all afternoon, unbothered, as ever.

She didn't know if it would all be the same, come next summer. The way the water slid, the golden light. Two weeks from tonight she would be on the train, and next August there would be no train, and this was the last summer the lake would be hers in this particular way — a schoolgirl's. Free and so lovely. She liked rather that. The word, feeling it. How lovely things were.

Her gaze returned, and she thought she should speak. But there the matter of William. Right there at the oars, besides, taking in whatever she opened with, which rather narrowed the field.

Unless..

"I am sorry, Willie, but would you give us a moment?" she said, as she removed her wand from one of her skirt's deep pockets. She raised the wood, and cast; "Muffliato."

William, to his credit, asked nothing and said nothing as a distinct, but comparatively mild buzzing sound filled his ears. He shipped the oars properly, settled back against the thwart with his hat over his eyes, and became, without a word, scenery. An arrangement she suspected he had been waiting to make since the boathouse. Oh, sweet Willie.

"Benji," Ellen began, softly. "May I ask you a question?"]]> <![CDATA[The Night We Met | Bae]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1261 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 23:46:32 +0000 Benji Laurence]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1261 Monday, September 3, 1923
11:15 PM
♡

The first night after classes was always a quiet one. The buzz had well worn-off from the excitement of everyone returning to school, the reality of rigorous coursework finally settling on the shoulders of all who attended Hogwarts. Naturally, it was always Benji's least favorite day of the school year, saddled with agendas and course outlines, and always homework from his mum without fail. Most professors preferred to wait a week before divvying out assignments.

Not Julia Barlowe. Class was in session and she wasn't wasting time.

This year, however, things felt a little different. It was his final year at Hogwarts. In the span of time that felt like a whirlwind, Benji had grown from a smart-mouthed street kid in oversized hand-me-down clothes, to a young man with an entire bright future ahead of him. A dynasty that laid in wait, a colorful career as an auror - and he supposed a boring ass barrister too - and a girl who made him feel things he'd never thought he was capable of.

Ruth Anaya Elliot was the brightest star in his sky.

They'd met in the corridor just outside these doors, all those years ago as little first years. She'd stepped on him while he'd army-crawled beneath the portraits, a brilliant start to a story Benji could have never foreseen in his wildest imagination.

Together, they'd been through a myriad of ups and downs, highs and lows. Things that tore them apart and ultimately brought them back together. Tears - plenty of them. Fights - innumerable. But the smiles, the laughs she could tear from the deepest parts of him, outweighed them all. With time, Rae had become more than his friend, more than his girlfriend. She'd become his rock, his conscience, his reason for wanting to succeed and do better than he'd ever imagined he could.

There had been a time when Benji was lost. When he'd thought himself content to settle in someone else's shadow and live off scraps for the illusion of family and love. Rae had chased that fog out, reminded him who he was, that he was great and meaningful in his own right and had an entire life that belonged to him. Benji knew a lot of who he was was because Rae had always challenged him to reach for better, to be a better version of himself.

A man that he could be proud of. A man that his mother and step-father could be proud of. A man that his uncle would feel confident handing his family over to one day.

A man that Rae would want to marry and share her life with.

The kitchens were dimmed, Toddles having ensured the other house elves vacated the premises early. Together, they'd set out a smorgasbord of all of Rae's favorite desserts. Cauldron cakes, exploding candy, cookies and of course, muffins. On every surface there were candles, illuminating the walls with golden flickers of light and all around the floor were dozens and dozens of flowers, all picked by Julia and Rosie who had been overjoyed to hear what he had in store.

He'd sent her a quick message, non-descript, to meet him in the kitchens for a late-night snack. His girlfriend never passed up on the opportunity for a treat, or for extra time with him, so there was very little worry that Benji would be left amongst his elaborate gesture alone.

As the door swung open, Toddles scampered out of view and hid himself in the pantry. Benji grinned as she wandered in, his hands in his pockets, looking every bit like the cat that had got the cream.

In many ways, he had.]]> Monday, September 3, 1923
11:15 PM
♡

The first night after classes was always a quiet one. The buzz had well worn-off from the excitement of everyone returning to school, the reality of rigorous coursework finally settling on the shoulders of all who attended Hogwarts. Naturally, it was always Benji's least favorite day of the school year, saddled with agendas and course outlines, and always homework from his mum without fail. Most professors preferred to wait a week before divvying out assignments.

Not Julia Barlowe. Class was in session and she wasn't wasting time.

This year, however, things felt a little different. It was his final year at Hogwarts. In the span of time that felt like a whirlwind, Benji had grown from a smart-mouthed street kid in oversized hand-me-down clothes, to a young man with an entire bright future ahead of him. A dynasty that laid in wait, a colorful career as an auror - and he supposed a boring ass barrister too - and a girl who made him feel things he'd never thought he was capable of.

Ruth Anaya Elliot was the brightest star in his sky.

They'd met in the corridor just outside these doors, all those years ago as little first years. She'd stepped on him while he'd army-crawled beneath the portraits, a brilliant start to a story Benji could have never foreseen in his wildest imagination.

Together, they'd been through a myriad of ups and downs, highs and lows. Things that tore them apart and ultimately brought them back together. Tears - plenty of them. Fights - innumerable. But the smiles, the laughs she could tear from the deepest parts of him, outweighed them all. With time, Rae had become more than his friend, more than his girlfriend. She'd become his rock, his conscience, his reason for wanting to succeed and do better than he'd ever imagined he could.

There had been a time when Benji was lost. When he'd thought himself content to settle in someone else's shadow and live off scraps for the illusion of family and love. Rae had chased that fog out, reminded him who he was, that he was great and meaningful in his own right and had an entire life that belonged to him. Benji knew a lot of who he was was because Rae had always challenged him to reach for better, to be a better version of himself.

A man that he could be proud of. A man that his mother and step-father could be proud of. A man that his uncle would feel confident handing his family over to one day.

A man that Rae would want to marry and share her life with.

The kitchens were dimmed, Toddles having ensured the other house elves vacated the premises early. Together, they'd set out a smorgasbord of all of Rae's favorite desserts. Cauldron cakes, exploding candy, cookies and of course, muffins. On every surface there were candles, illuminating the walls with golden flickers of light and all around the floor were dozens and dozens of flowers, all picked by Julia and Rosie who had been overjoyed to hear what he had in store.

He'd sent her a quick message, non-descript, to meet him in the kitchens for a late-night snack. His girlfriend never passed up on the opportunity for a treat, or for extra time with him, so there was very little worry that Benji would be left amongst his elaborate gesture alone.

As the door swung open, Toddles scampered out of view and hid himself in the pantry. Benji grinned as she wandered in, his hands in his pockets, looking every bit like the cat that had got the cream.

In many ways, he had.]]> <![CDATA[the sound of music | eira, rosie, cass]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1260 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 22:58:09 +0000 Katerina Nikolau]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1260 august 29, 1923
10 pm
Katerina took one glimpse at the crowd before her eyes went back to the keys.

Somewhere in that sea of heads, which she could barely distinguish with all those lights pointing at her, were her friends. She gulped.

There was a time when she wouldn’t have dared to show them this side of herself. Now, as she slowly grew confident in the skin of the woman she had transformed into—away from her father, and away from who she was supposed to be—she could finally let them see the parts of herself that she had deemed embarrassing or not useful enough.

That included her art.

As her long, pianist fingers flew over the keys, the lounge was filled with the most beautiful, melancholic notes. They spoke of heartbreak and loneliness in a way only music could, jumping right over words and straight into the soul.

Her brow creased slightly, focus written all over her face as tight, dark curls fell over her forehead. She was on the last notes of the melody, her heart thudding against her eardrums.

Before she knew it, it was over. She stood up, smoothing the flowy, silver fabric of her beaded dress. Finishing a concert was always bittersweet.

As they applauded, Kate took a bow. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked around. The venue was not exactly big, but it was crowded. For a solo debut at her young age, it was a win. She had put herself on the map. Her lips curled into a bright smile.

Turning around on her heel, Katerina disappeared behind the heavy velvet curtains.

Backstage, everything was full of life. Some of the workers approached her, congratulating her. Katerina smiled, shook hands, and accepted kisses on both cheeks. Yet, who she was really wishing to see was not them—but her friends.

They should be there any minute now, she guessed. She had instructed them to meet her there after the concert ended, after all. Katerina took a deep breath, sitting in front of the mirror. Unable to escape her own vanity, she stopped to check her makeup. As she reached for a lipstick, someone touched her shoulders.

Katerina turned around, just slightly, and then she saw them.

The smile she had been wearing up until that point spread across her face. She rose to her feet and grabbed the first friend she had within reach, pulling them into a tight hug.

“It’s been forever.” She pushed them away. “Thanks for coming.”]]> august 29, 1923
10 pm
Katerina took one glimpse at the crowd before her eyes went back to the keys.

Somewhere in that sea of heads, which she could barely distinguish with all those lights pointing at her, were her friends. She gulped.

There was a time when she wouldn’t have dared to show them this side of herself. Now, as she slowly grew confident in the skin of the woman she had transformed into—away from her father, and away from who she was supposed to be—she could finally let them see the parts of herself that she had deemed embarrassing or not useful enough.

That included her art.

As her long, pianist fingers flew over the keys, the lounge was filled with the most beautiful, melancholic notes. They spoke of heartbreak and loneliness in a way only music could, jumping right over words and straight into the soul.

Her brow creased slightly, focus written all over her face as tight, dark curls fell over her forehead. She was on the last notes of the melody, her heart thudding against her eardrums.

Before she knew it, it was over. She stood up, smoothing the flowy, silver fabric of her beaded dress. Finishing a concert was always bittersweet.

As they applauded, Kate took a bow. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked around. The venue was not exactly big, but it was crowded. For a solo debut at her young age, it was a win. She had put herself on the map. Her lips curled into a bright smile.

Turning around on her heel, Katerina disappeared behind the heavy velvet curtains.

Backstage, everything was full of life. Some of the workers approached her, congratulating her. Katerina smiled, shook hands, and accepted kisses on both cheeks. Yet, who she was really wishing to see was not them—but her friends.

They should be there any minute now, she guessed. She had instructed them to meet her there after the concert ended, after all. Katerina took a deep breath, sitting in front of the mirror. Unable to escape her own vanity, she stopped to check her makeup. As she reached for a lipstick, someone touched her shoulders.

Katerina turned around, just slightly, and then she saw them.

The smile she had been wearing up until that point spread across her face. She rose to her feet and grabbed the first friend she had within reach, pulling them into a tight hug.

“It’s been forever.” She pushed them away. “Thanks for coming.”]]> <![CDATA[The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1259 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 15:48:45 +0000 Lev Zdravkova]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1259
        Monday, June 11, 1923  
9:00 AM
♫⁠

"The Yorks will be here soon. Do you remember everything Father instructed?"

Lev fussed with a navy blue folder on his desk, flipping through the documents that he'd organized in preparation for this initial meeting. It was to be Drago's introduction into the business-side of Argentum Memoriae, rather than the practical. While his brother was preparing to begin training as an auror in the coming fall, their father still insisted that Drago understand the intricacies of persuasion, and how charisma and charm played a heavy hand in luring new clients into their web.

The Yorks were an old aristocratic pureblood family, run by a man older than Aleksandr and rumored to be twice as shrewd. His son had met with their father in the weeks prior, and with some effort, had been convinced to meet with Lev and Drago to discuss the various services their business could offer. There were whispers, Oleg had mentioned, that the Yorks were falling from grace, though why, the Zdravkovas hadn't yet deciphered. But as they all knew, a fall could be quickly remedied and followed by a new rise, in which case the Zdravkovas could only stand to benefit.

Relations between Oleg and his older son had tempered in the past several months as Lev found his footing in work again, and peace was settling between him and Liliya. With Drago graduated, the family was finding its forward momentum again, and their father was insistent on capitalizing on it.

This meeting had to be successful.

A knock sounded on the office door, followed by the voice of his secretary announcing the York family's arrival.

"Straighten your collar." He nodded towards his brother, giving him a quick once over to ensure the rest of him was properly put together. "Let them in, Elizabeth."]]>
        Monday, June 11, 1923  
9:00 AM
♫⁠

"The Yorks will be here soon. Do you remember everything Father instructed?"

Lev fussed with a navy blue folder on his desk, flipping through the documents that he'd organized in preparation for this initial meeting. It was to be Drago's introduction into the business-side of Argentum Memoriae, rather than the practical. While his brother was preparing to begin training as an auror in the coming fall, their father still insisted that Drago understand the intricacies of persuasion, and how charisma and charm played a heavy hand in luring new clients into their web.

The Yorks were an old aristocratic pureblood family, run by a man older than Aleksandr and rumored to be twice as shrewd. His son had met with their father in the weeks prior, and with some effort, had been convinced to meet with Lev and Drago to discuss the various services their business could offer. There were whispers, Oleg had mentioned, that the Yorks were falling from grace, though why, the Zdravkovas hadn't yet deciphered. But as they all knew, a fall could be quickly remedied and followed by a new rise, in which case the Zdravkovas could only stand to benefit.

Relations between Oleg and his older son had tempered in the past several months as Lev found his footing in work again, and peace was settling between him and Liliya. With Drago graduated, the family was finding its forward momentum again, and their father was insistent on capitalizing on it.

This meeting had to be successful.

A knock sounded on the office door, followed by the voice of his secretary announcing the York family's arrival.

"Straighten your collar." He nodded towards his brother, giving him a quick once over to ensure the rest of him was properly put together. "Let them in, Elizabeth."]]> <![CDATA[Hufflepuff: Check-In [1923 - 1924]]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1255 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 03:00:38 +0000 Roisin Blackwood]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1255

WELCOME TO
Hufflepuff
1923 - 1924
[Image: house-hufflepuff-v3.png]
From your Head of House...
Welcome (back) to the burrow!

If you don't know me, I am Roisin Blackwood (formerly Byrne). In my past life, post-graduation and pre-return to Hogwarts, I was an Auror with the Minsitry of Magic's Magical Law Enforcement. When I attended Hogwarts, I fell in love with Defense Against the Dark Arts and that's when I knew my calling was in MLE.

I returned briefly as the Head Nurse and then transitioned to Hufflepuff Head of House and DADA professor. This term I am also leading the Quidditch Club.

My daughter Fiona is now a firstie, which is both really exciting and sad for me. This summer my husband Professor Blackwood (Head of Slytherin and Deputy Headmaster) added our son Theodore to the family. He also joins Evander, who I share with Professor Maddox Barlowe and his step-mother Professor Julia Barlowe.

Introduce Yourself...
Now that you know a bit about me, I'd like to get to know the students in Hufflepuff! So please reply (in-character) to the thread with the following code.

Code: 
[div style="position:relative; width:400px; margin:0 auto; background:#372e29; color:#E4E0D7; border-radius:10px;"] [div style="padding:20px; font-size:13px;"][b]Name:[/b] Answer [b]Year:[/b] Answer [b]Birthday:[/b] Answer [b]What would your boggart be?[/b] Answer [b]If you could add one thing to the Hufflepuff common room, what would it be?[/b] Answer [b]What is something you are looking forward to this term?[/b] Answer [/div][/div]

]]>

WELCOME TO
Hufflepuff
1923 - 1924
[Image: house-hufflepuff-v3.png]
From your Head of House...
Welcome (back) to the burrow!

If you don't know me, I am Roisin Blackwood (formerly Byrne). In my past life, post-graduation and pre-return to Hogwarts, I was an Auror with the Minsitry of Magic's Magical Law Enforcement. When I attended Hogwarts, I fell in love with Defense Against the Dark Arts and that's when I knew my calling was in MLE.

I returned briefly as the Head Nurse and then transitioned to Hufflepuff Head of House and DADA professor. This term I am also leading the Quidditch Club.

My daughter Fiona is now a firstie, which is both really exciting and sad for me. This summer my husband Professor Blackwood (Head of Slytherin and Deputy Headmaster) added our son Theodore to the family. He also joins Evander, who I share with Professor Maddox Barlowe and his step-mother Professor Julia Barlowe.

Introduce Yourself...
Now that you know a bit about me, I'd like to get to know the students in Hufflepuff! So please reply (in-character) to the thread with the following code.

Code: 
[div style="position:relative; width:400px; margin:0 auto; background:#372e29; color:#E4E0D7; border-radius:10px;"] [div style="padding:20px; font-size:13px;"][b]Name:[/b] Answer [b]Year:[/b] Answer [b]Birthday:[/b] Answer [b]What would your boggart be?[/b] Answer [b]If you could add one thing to the Hufflepuff common room, what would it be?[/b] Answer [b]What is something you are looking forward to this term?[/b] Answer [/div][/div]

]]> <![CDATA[Opening Feast: Sorting Hat]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1254 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 00:42:54 +0000 Galen MacLean]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1254 Sorting Hat

[Image: 700_93592207-5879-4ca7-9e50-84d5ea6c4d30.png]

In times of old, when I was new,
And Hogwarts barely started,
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted.

United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning
To make the world’s best magic school
And pass along their learning.

“Together we will build and teach”
The four good friends decided.
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided.

For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,

So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there, so I can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, “We’ll teach just those
Whose ancestry’s purest.”
Said Ravenclaw, “We’ll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest”

Said Gryffindor, “We’ll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name.”
Said Hufflepuff, “I’ll teach the lot
And treat them just the same.”

These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light.
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning just like him.

And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest
and taught them all she knew,
Thus, the Houses and their founders
Maintained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony
for several happy years,
but then discord crept among us
feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four
had once held up our school
now turned upon each other and
divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school
must meet an early end.
what with dueling and with fighting
and the clash of friend on friend.

And at last there came a morning
when old Slytherin departed
and though the fighting then died out
he left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four
were whittled down to three
have the Houses been united
as they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here
and you all know the score:
I sort you into Houses
because that is what I’m for.

But this year I’ll go further,
listen closely to my song:
though condemned I am to split you
still I worry that it’s wrong,

though I must fulfill my duty
and must quarter every year
still I wonder whether sorting
may not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
the warning history shows,
for our Hogwarts is in danger
from external, deadly foes

and we must unite inside her
or we’ll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you…
let the Sorting now begin.


*Sorting hat song found HERE]]> Sorting Hat

[Image: 700_93592207-5879-4ca7-9e50-84d5ea6c4d30.png]

In times of old, when I was new,
And Hogwarts barely started,
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted.

United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning
To make the world’s best magic school
And pass along their learning.

“Together we will build and teach”
The four good friends decided.
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided.

For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,

So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there, so I can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, “We’ll teach just those
Whose ancestry’s purest.”
Said Ravenclaw, “We’ll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest”

Said Gryffindor, “We’ll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name.”
Said Hufflepuff, “I’ll teach the lot
And treat them just the same.”

These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light.
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning just like him.

And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest
and taught them all she knew,
Thus, the Houses and their founders
Maintained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony
for several happy years,
but then discord crept among us
feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four
had once held up our school
now turned upon each other and
divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school
must meet an early end.
what with dueling and with fighting
and the clash of friend on friend.

And at last there came a morning
when old Slytherin departed
and though the fighting then died out
he left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four
were whittled down to three
have the Houses been united
as they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here
and you all know the score:
I sort you into Houses
because that is what I’m for.

But this year I’ll go further,
listen closely to my song:
though condemned I am to split you
still I worry that it’s wrong,

though I must fulfill my duty
and must quarter every year
still I wonder whether sorting
may not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
the warning history shows,
for our Hogwarts is in danger
from external, deadly foes

and we must unite inside her
or we’ll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you…
let the Sorting now begin.


*Sorting hat song found HERE]]> <![CDATA[Opening Feast: Slytherin Table]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1253 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 00:32:27 +0000 Galen MacLean]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1253 Slytherin Table

[Image: 696_b3179c28-243c-40d1-9586-eb69a8c6cde9.png]

The Slytherin table is situated on the far left of the room when entering the Great Hall, with Ravenclaw on the right.
]]> Slytherin Table

[Image: 696_b3179c28-243c-40d1-9586-eb69a8c6cde9.png]

The Slytherin table is situated on the far left of the room when entering the Great Hall, with Ravenclaw on the right.
]]> <![CDATA[Opening Feast: Gryffindor Table]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1252 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 00:31:20 +0000 Galen MacLean]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1252 Gryffindor Table

[Image: 695_46cf9b84-fd62-43c5-a105-ced0b54b726f.png]

The Gryffindor table is on the far right of the room when walking in, and is next to the Hufflepuff table.
]]> Gryffindor Table

[Image: 695_46cf9b84-fd62-43c5-a105-ced0b54b726f.png]

The Gryffindor table is on the far right of the room when walking in, and is next to the Hufflepuff table.
]]> <![CDATA[Opening Feast: Staff Table]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1251 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 00:29:34 +0000 Galen MacLean]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1251 Staff Table

[Image: 697_c4ebcd68-92d1-4a29-ad1b-14f8239394c4.png]

The Staff table is situated at the very back of the room on a platform. Everyone sits side-by-side so they can see the students.
]]> Staff Table

[Image: 697_c4ebcd68-92d1-4a29-ad1b-14f8239394c4.png]

The Staff table is situated at the very back of the room on a platform. Everyone sits side-by-side so they can see the students.
]]> <![CDATA[Opening Feast: Hufflepuff Table]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1250 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 00:27:08 +0000 Galen MacLean]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1250 Hufflepuff Table

[Image: 698_d6c0dfa0-d155-41e6-88c7-b9ef29bcd767.png]

The Hufflepuff table is situated between Gryffindor on the right and Ravenclaw on the left, though there is a wide space between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw due to the aisle to the Staff Table.
]]> Hufflepuff Table

[Image: 698_d6c0dfa0-d155-41e6-88c7-b9ef29bcd767.png]

The Hufflepuff table is situated between Gryffindor on the right and Ravenclaw on the left, though there is a wide space between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw due to the aisle to the Staff Table.
]]> <![CDATA[Opening Feast: Ravenclaw Table]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1249 Mon, 31 Aug 2026 00:24:42 +0000 Galen MacLean]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1249 Ravenclaw Table

[Image: 699_e7b710fe-9bc0-417a-9926-9a8e79d4a839.png]

The Ravenclaw table is situated between Hufflepuff on the right and Slytherin on the left, though there is a wide space between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff due to the aisle to the Staff Table.
]]> Ravenclaw Table

[Image: 699_e7b710fe-9bc0-417a-9926-9a8e79d4a839.png]

The Ravenclaw table is situated between Hufflepuff on the right and Slytherin on the left, though there is a wide space between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff due to the aisle to the Staff Table.
]]>