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The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree ( Submit your own)
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Questionable Friend/Crush for Philip Aymslowe.
When your mum thinks you're gay for your best friend (but you probably are)
This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa
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Post 3+ times in three or more class threads during the course of a school year. Must all be done with the same character, be they a professor, student, or school portrait or ghost!

Evidence of Things Not Seen
See Inside 
Department Heads, Assistant Heads, and Office Heads will have received an invitation to the meeting, as will have Roman Crouch.
June 11th, 1888 - Magical Accidents & Catastrophes Conference Room
One of the MA&C employees led them through a presentation on the Irvingly fog, information which had essentially already been published in the Prophet: the fog was magical in origin, but suppressed magic. They did not know where it came from but the epicenter had originally been Salem Square. It was expanding southward at a variable rate. The department had so far been unable to stop it.

This last pointer was the kicker; for a few days, Ross had faith that MA&C could manage their job, which they were tremendously good at. But they were unable. After three mornings - four after this display -  of disappointing updates, he'd decided that it was time to bring in everyone. Coordinating calendars was a shit show in and of itself - he was sure some meetings had to have been moved for this - but he could not meet with every office separately.

When the employee wrapped up, Ross decided to start the meeting from the head of the table. His junior assistant was scrawling furious notes. "I believe that all of your departments have potential areas of concern regarding the fog," Ross said, "Can you share these potential areas with the group? Mr./Mrs./Miss --- ---, start us off."

48 hours or 2+ posts.
Benji had plenty of concerns, but he'd been given no solutions to any of them thus far. It was not his department's job to handle the mysterious fog—while trained in many things, his employees were not deals in magic reversal—but that hadn't stopped the public from sending complaint after complaint.

He was there with his brother, and he had plenty to say.

"Transportation, obviously," he responded with little hesitation.  "No one can get in or out by magical means. No floo network, no apparition, no magic—my whole department's up in arms, Minister."

Post Log
Ed sat silently through the presentation, grateful the emergency of the moment wasn't like... a Quidditch riot.  That had been fun.  Not that he hadn't been affected by the fog, the Howlers were in Irvingly after all, but his concerns were not as dire as some of the other Heads present.  Certainly not as much as Mr. Ross who'd practically jumped to speak first.  His intensity spurred Ed to speak next before things really kicked off.  With any luck he could get his bit in and then sit back for the worst of it.  

"Are we actively testing if brooms are affected?  If they are safe they may relieve some of the pressure on transportation."  He was quite happy with the segue.  He got to bring his stuff up while still making it about the other department which was borderline valiant if you asked him.

"And on a related note - if the Howler's stadium is unavailable for much longer we'll have to rework the Quidditch schedule which is..." he ended with a shake of his head.  This was his actual concern.  Scheduling in the middle of a season was a nightmare.
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   Cassius Lestrange, Elias Grimstone
Ernest had much better things to do with his time than sit in a meeting that didn't particularly concern his department — as, apparently, did his department head, because Mrs. Lestrange had sent him in her stead. Perhaps he was being punished for some sin he'd forgotten he committed. Perhaps she was still irked about when he'd accidentally broken time for a day. Maybe this was penance for not having properly filed all of the paperwork relating to the unfortunate transfiguration of Mr. Pickering, the lift operator, into a chicken. Whatever the case, he had been sent up to the conference room and had dutifully taken his chair. He had then proceeded to pretend to be watching the presentation and taking notes, while he doodled on a notebook he'd brought up.

The first order of business, apparently, was to discuss the Quidditch season, which Ernest really could not have cared less about. He yawned into a handkerchief and went back to doodling, content to pretend he was listening and had nothing to contribute unless the Minister actually forced him to add something.
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   Elias Grimstone

Looking around at the other department heads present, Aldous realized that he was probably the least impacted by the situation in Irvingly. That suited him just fine. There had been several nightmares for his department in recent years; the wizard would be happy indeed to sit out this particular disaster. Still, he was not completely unaffected. Trade, he suspected, would prove to be something of a concern if matters spread, and it was not ideal from a publicity standpoint. For now, however, Aldous was more perplexed than worried, a welcome change.

He could not help but roll his eyes about the concerns with the professional quidditch schedule. No doubt Pettigrew would rejoice if the Howlers could not play, but for himself, he was entirely ambivalent on that matter.

— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —
Mr. Grimm, he thought, should recognize the danger of the situation—but no, quidditch was one of his main concerns. He teetered back from commenting on the matter and ignoring it, but decided to address other matters.

"I'm not sure if you've read the Prophet, Mr. Grimm, but travel by broom remains banned in Irvingly," he refuted. "Only a portion of the population are strong fliers, anyways; I wouldn't risk the safety of citizens by urging the entire population of Irvingly to mount a broom and fly through fog."

Post Log
Ed kept a neutral expression but he was vaguely amused by the shift of tensions in the room.  He didn't blame them, if roles were reversed he'd judge him too.  Quidditch was definitely not a priority in the slightest.  But he had his reasons.  With any luck in 10 minuets he'd be as bored looking  as the fellow from the Department of Mysteries.    

It was not a hope he held on to for long.  Mr. Ross apparently didn't find his segue as valiant as Ed did and fired back at him.  "I have read the prophet." he replied coolly.  "I also attended an informative presentation recently." he continued with a wave to the general area where the MA&C employee had stood.  "I thought it was stated that it was unknown whether brooms were affected.  In an effort the assuage a few of your concerns I could rephrase to ask if flying carpets were functional but the bottom line remains... is flying affected?  I can think of a number of reasons why this would be valuable information so if visibility is the worst consequence you can fathom then I might invite you think more broadly."
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   Barnabas Skeeter
Barnabas didn't exactly know why he'd been invited to the meeting so far as his particular department was concerned. Certainly, dueling was just a sport — but they were not currently holding a tournament... nor did they hold them in the affected Irvingly. This lead him to believe that Minister Ross thought him a valuable member of the Ministry who would hopefully continue to rise through the ranks. One day, he would be Minister. This would be great experience and something of which he could claim he was a part of during the next elections.

He sipped at his coffee as Mr. Grimm made an ass out of himself. Despite the pair having certain physical ailments in common, Barnabas thought him simple minded. Quidditch was a pointless game --- to have one's entire career wrapped around it was... well it spoke volumes about one's brain capacity.

"Even if they did still work, it would be illegal to use them as means of transportation," He pointed out dryly, "A larger concern we should have is how the fog is affecting the residents. Aren't magical barriers in place for the animals at that zoo? What of safety measures that were put in place to keep muggles non-related to the magical world out? We need to get something else put in place. Dispatch extra security on foot, if we have to. This could cause us to suffer from the Queen's wrath again."
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   Aldous Crouch, Roberto Devine

set by MJ | Kindly tag @Prudence Browne in replies
"Mr. Ross, Mr. Grimm," Ross said, in a mild Tone. (It was not a happy Tone; he did not know the Quidditch League Director very well, although he had promoted him, but generally expected better from his brother.) "My understanding is actually that the use of broom travel is ill-advised because the fog is affecting long-standing charms, such as the floo network. If the spells on brooms are offline or otherwise damaged, we could have people crashing if they make it off the ground."

And then there was the matter of Mr. Skeeter:

"It would be worth looking into expanding the barrier temporarily," Ross conceded, "Although Irvingly is particularly isolated. Her Majesty is aware of the matter." Albeit in a cursory, unconcerned sort of way.

"Would you be interested in dispatching your own employees, Mr. Skeeter?" Ross asked, wondering if this was perhaps a way to kill two birds with one stone - Skeeter couldn't schedule meetings with him if he was in Irvingly, and they did need experienced wands on the ground surrounding Irvingly, but not auror experienced. "And do any of the rest of you have thoughts to share regarding potential issues?"

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   Declan Wood
The wizard agreed entirely with Ross and Skeeter, though saw no benefit in voicing as much—particularly when Mr. Grimm had already been so tramped down. Besides, he had an appointment with the Spanish liaison he would rather not have to explain away—and adding his voice to the fray unnecessarily would surely cause just that.

“Irvingly is hardly a hub of international industry,” Aldous voiced at last with a shrug. “Though I will note that, from my department’s perspective, it is in our best interests to downplay things as much as possible.”

The last thing they needed were trade partners getting squeamish, or dignitaries giving the entirety of Magical Britain a miss.

— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —
Quidditch and trains and squabbling? Morwenna watched the heated exchange between the two young men, felt the familiar stab of annoyance when Barney spoke and it occurred to her anew that it had taken her decades to get around this table, and she wished to god she was able to report nothing more troubling. And yet, written on the paper in front of her in her own looping handwriting, were things she could not ignore.

“I’m afraid warnings to the community might be necessary as far as my department is concerned gentlemen. As it stands we suspect the extra coverage may allow vampires to roam, along with god knows what else from the mountains that might become bold...again.” She added for good measure, remembering trolls all too clearly. ”And then there is the matter of werewolves.”
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   Declan Wood

[Image: Morwenna_SIG_by_Bee.png]
bury me with this Bee set
Aldous quirked an eyebrow.

"Werewolves are tied to the full moon, are they not?" the wizard inquired. He was no an expert on the topic by any means, but that was, Aldous thought, fairly common knowledge. "If anything, I'd think they would benefit from a fog obscuring it—or if magic is the issue, perhaps not even make the change at all."

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   Declan Wood

— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —
Ernest's interest had been piqued by the start of a disagreement between the Minister's brother and the Quidditch Guy, though the Minister was quick to put that down before it became too interesting. As a result, though, he was paying more attention than he might otherwise have done as the other department heads put in their two cents. He was still largely unconcerned, having no interests in Irvingly either from a personal or professional standpoint, but he could appreciate the potential for this to cause chaos if it began to affect the things that dwelt in the forest, and chaos was generally not in anyone's best interests. They were all here to problem solve, he supposed, since the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes couldn't be bothered to solve their own problems. Not that he was incredibly surprised; the incompetence of other Ministry workers never surprised him.

A thought occurred to him, and he cleared his throat mildly to redirect the conversation from the topic of werewolves (which was a topic he, like Mr. Crouch, was rather failing to see the relevancy of). "Has this been assigned to the correct department?" he asked, with a glance at Mrs. Parkinson and then to the Minister. "That is, is there any evidence that it was an accident?" In his experience, accidents tended to be clumsy, and this fog had so far shown itself to be anything but. It was growing at a predictable rate and expanding daily, and if someone had intended to create a fog that prevented the use of magic — well, starting it off in the one area of the world where the magical population would be least likely to realize this particular affect until it was already well underway was rather ingenious, he thought. And Ernest did not use the concept of genius lightly.
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Morwenna resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the conversation moved on, apparently the only person concerned that not being able to see something coming made it incrementally more dangerous for the residents of Irvingly. Muggles were ill-equipped to deal with magical creatures at the best of time but with the wizards around them unable to defend them and no visibility to hide themselves in time she could see casualties before long. Especially if the fog didn't obscure the moon or, her niggling fear, altered something about the change.

She turned sharp eyes on Mr Mulciber, eyebrow raised at the question.

"Are you suggesting this a deliberate attack on Irvingly?" Frowning she glanced around the table. "Who would do something like this? Who could?"

[Image: Morwenna_SIG_by_Bee.png]
bury me with this Bee set
"If there are no better alternatives, I will lead my department there myself," He said stoically. Granted, he was hardly the best option. He had one leg. Surely there were far more experienced, more physically capable departments that could handle it. He wasn't going to balk at the suggestion... but the Minister could have dispatched someone else. Was there a chance that perhaps he was just being shoved off as tending to a job that nobody really thought mattered?

He was silent as he listened to the others voice their concerns. His aunt's suggestion fell in line with his own - regarding the magical creatures and their effect on Irvingly - except hers was about things coming into the village, rather than out of it. That was even more concerning.

"I don't think it was an attack - typically attackers make themselves known after a time," He stated, "Though it's incredibly powerful for something to just be accidental..."

set by MJ | Kindly tag @Prudence Browne in replies
In such a short time they'd gone from bickering about quidditch to werewolves to an attack on the magical community, a notion that seemed mildly absurd to him (or at least he wanted it to be absurd). It wouldn't be the first time criminals had gone to great lengths to raise hell in their community, but by fog?

"I'd be more inclined to believe it was an atmospheric charm gone wrong based on past experiences," he offered. "But if this was intentional, I have no idea why they'd choose Irvingly as the ideal place to cut off magical access to. It's never been a hub of magical activity."

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