Post by waffletastic on Jun 4, 2009 23:20:11 GMT -5
To all curious and attentive ears surrounding St. Mungo's Hospital for magical beings, they would have definitely noticed the uproarious, cacophonous, clear, and distinct sounds of nothing. Nothing ricocheted off the walls and spun madly out into the darkness beyond the gates. Nothing reverberated in the broken and blackened glass of the windows which must have sent nonexistent shivers down the spines of any imaginary passersby. Nothing echoed down the desolate halls like the moaning wail of a widow's ghost, alerting everyone and all to the blatant fact that nothing was happening in the hospital, and that nothing would probably continue to happen unchecked with wanton reckless abandon in the near and possibly distant future...or at least that's how it seemed from the outside.
To all curious and uncurious eyes alike, the hospital was a forgotten, empty sepulchar. A memento of a long lost era that was now only a shrine to the oppressive and abysmal tyranny that was Lord Voldemort's regime.
However, the truth was that St. Mungo's was not in fact empty at all. St. Mungo's verily teemed with life. Virtually frothed with silent activities and movements of the most secret and volatile kind. St. Mungo's housed the lair of one of the most infamous wizard coalitions in recent history, and one of the most persistent and irritating thorn's in the Dark Lord's side...The Order of the Phoenix.
And now, at that very moment, one of the members of The Order was trapsing the halls of the Spell Damage sector, trying to rid herself of the relentless boredom that eeked off the very walls of the place. The young and eccentrically dressed witch, known only as Jinx, carefully tiptoed up to the entrance of the sector and pushed the door open just a hint, though it still let out a determinedly deprecating and indignant moan. Then she slipped inside and waltzed to the information desk, her abnormally light footfalls not even leaving a trail in the thick dust and grime on the floor.
Jinx took a look about, narrowing her brilliant blue eyes at the particles of dust floating unabashedly through the light coming from the window. She glanced askance at the cobwebs that draped themselves impudently across the ceiling and the fat spiders that lazily and arrogantly scuttled along their lengths. Then she turned and hopped effortlessly over the desk and bent down to look at the books on the bookshelf beyond.
Thin, graceful fingers traced lines in the dust that covered the ancient books. A History of Magic, The Best Kind of Brokam's Tea,by Berna Brothsfield, and various others. Finally Jinx settled on a rather large textbook called Spells, Hexes, and Jinxes for the Average Warlock by Arstrand Abernathy. With grace and little pretense she plucked the book from the shelf, upsetting a rather crotchety fat spider in the process, and then muttered "Wingardium Leviosa," Then, with seeming ease the young witch floated up to the ceiling where she reclined to read her newly found treasure.
To all curious and uncurious eyes alike, the hospital was a forgotten, empty sepulchar. A memento of a long lost era that was now only a shrine to the oppressive and abysmal tyranny that was Lord Voldemort's regime.
However, the truth was that St. Mungo's was not in fact empty at all. St. Mungo's verily teemed with life. Virtually frothed with silent activities and movements of the most secret and volatile kind. St. Mungo's housed the lair of one of the most infamous wizard coalitions in recent history, and one of the most persistent and irritating thorn's in the Dark Lord's side...The Order of the Phoenix.
And now, at that very moment, one of the members of The Order was trapsing the halls of the Spell Damage sector, trying to rid herself of the relentless boredom that eeked off the very walls of the place. The young and eccentrically dressed witch, known only as Jinx, carefully tiptoed up to the entrance of the sector and pushed the door open just a hint, though it still let out a determinedly deprecating and indignant moan. Then she slipped inside and waltzed to the information desk, her abnormally light footfalls not even leaving a trail in the thick dust and grime on the floor.
Jinx took a look about, narrowing her brilliant blue eyes at the particles of dust floating unabashedly through the light coming from the window. She glanced askance at the cobwebs that draped themselves impudently across the ceiling and the fat spiders that lazily and arrogantly scuttled along their lengths. Then she turned and hopped effortlessly over the desk and bent down to look at the books on the bookshelf beyond.
Thin, graceful fingers traced lines in the dust that covered the ancient books. A History of Magic, The Best Kind of Brokam's Tea,by Berna Brothsfield, and various others. Finally Jinx settled on a rather large textbook called Spells, Hexes, and Jinxes for the Average Warlock by Arstrand Abernathy. With grace and little pretense she plucked the book from the shelf, upsetting a rather crotchety fat spider in the process, and then muttered "Wingardium Leviosa," Then, with seeming ease the young witch floated up to the ceiling where she reclined to read her newly found treasure.