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First names were most often used by childhood or school friends. If the friendship was made after school age, first names would only really be used by women. Men were far more likely to refer to their friends by their surnames, a mark of familiarity. — Documentation

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Emilia Wright for Jude Wright. Casually alienating offspring since 18882.
Separating was also not a great idea, though they weren't doing great at staying together anyway. If she were to volunteer to be the human sacrifice.. well... Hogsmeade had plenty of debutantes anyway...

Barnabas Skeeter in CYOA: Group D

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Complete threads set in ten different forum locations. Threads must have at least ten posts, and three must be your own. Character accounts cannot be combined.


Raining Cookies
September 8, 1888 - Hogwarts , Lower Levels

Sybille almost couldn’t believe that she was at Hogwarts, after thinking about it so long she almost felt as if she were dreaming. Not only was she at Hogwarts but she had been sorted into Hufflepuff just like mother had been! To make that even better was the fact that Fleur had been too. Together they were unstoppable. Yes, it was a little weird not to be at home in her own room, to instead have roommates. But Tansy and Fleur were the very best roommates one could ask for.

A week at school and what Sybille really missed, however, was baking. Fleur had made it her mission to befriend everyone in hopes that they could help with the girls’ situation and Sybille certainly was going to do her part too. It was the Saturday after their first week of classes and she was going to find and befriend a house elf. But to do that she had to find the kitchens because that was where her siblings had told her they would be. She had brought along her last tin of cookies, both she and Fleur had decided that bringing cookies would help their cause and as such had had Fleur’s mother place charms to keep them from going stale for longer, in hopes that if she did manage to find a house elf they might enjoy her cookies and let her bake in the kitchens.

Someone had mentioned that the kitchens were in the corridors somewhere near the Hufflepuff common room, but beyond that Sybille was going blind. She wandered down hallway after hallway but with no luck. She had just turned another person when she ran right into them. Her tin of cookies flying open and raining treats down on them. They were the last of her cookies and Sybille almost felt she would cry!

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Mj's magical purty
Jemima had been making her way back to the common room, and making the most of her Saturday by not doing any homework at all. Her thoughts had gotten away with her, somewhat, because the next thing she knew, one of the youngest members of her house ploughed right into her!  

She only had a split-second to register the shock of red locks (ginger was so ungainly a colour for any girl, the poor dear), when a mass of objects started raining down, tossed up by the girl's tin. Jemima supposed, had she not been so startled, she would have put together what they were, but as it was - she let out a squeal of fear and leapt backwards from where the things were pelting her, flicking one off her shoulder as though it were a giant bug!

Well, they might well have been giant bugs, for all she knew! First years were always an unfathomable bunch. Heaving an obvious sigh and feeling tremendously stupid when she realised that they were only cookies now littering the stone floor around them, Jemima peered quickly at the girl, pursing her lips in the hope she would not be laughed at. "Oh - oh dear," she breathed instead, at the poor girl's expression.
Between the cookies raining down on them Sybille could make out one of the older girls that she thought she had seen in the common room in the past week. The girl’s dark hair bounced as he jumped backward with a squeal. Oh, no. She hadn’t meant to start the girl. Sybille could feel the tears building now. But, no, she was a young lady now, and young ladies didn’t cry. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” She started as the cookies plopped with a finality to the ground. Sybille stared miserably at them. “They were the last ones I brought with me.” She tried to explain at the older girl’s exclamation, Sybille’s voice wavering terribly. “And now I can’t make anymore.” Her voice broke. Maybe she really was homesick.

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Mj's magical purty

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