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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!

The Homecoming Committee
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February 11th, 1889 — Dept of Mysteries

Ernest had never been much for politics; he considered it a stupid man's game, and left it to those who had ambition but no real talent for affecting change in the world. He also didn't have any sense of altruism or community duty that would force him into the fray despite his distaste for it, like someone apparently had. Urquart had always been something of an idealist, though, and it had never gotten in the way of his work when he'd been at the Department of Mysteries previously.

It had, however, gotten in the way of what had once been quite a sturdy friendship. The two had remained civil during Urquart's election (an easy feat, since Ernest had no interested in discussing the man's politics), but Ernest had felt it best to distance himself from the man publicly. His positions were not ones that meshed well with the Mulciber family as a whole, and Ernest was conscious of his reputation if for no other reason than he wanted to avoid being lectured on the subject by either his wife or his mother. Distance had, in turn, turned to stony silence when Urquart's daughter had been outed as a werewolf. It wasn't anything personal, of course, and Ernest felt that went without saying. Someone from his social circle simply couldn't be friends with the father of an acknowledged monster.

Privately, though, he had considered all of it — from the man's foray into politics down to the unfortunate situation with his daughter — a waste. Urquart, unlike most politicians, wasn't stupid, and he had the potential to be doing important things in the Department of Mysteries, which he would now never step foot in again.

Or so he'd thought. Apparently more or less hand-picking your successor as Minister of Magic had its perks, and one of them was being able to glide back in to positions you'd left ages ago. Ernest didn't mind much; he'd worked under Urquart before in the department, and he had no desire to fill the recently vacated job of Mrs. Lestrange. There was already far too much paperwork involved in his work for his tastes.

He was waiting for his new boss on Monday morning, his first day back to work. He'd shooed all of the Unspeakables off to their various tasks, so that they wouldn't be able to just stand around and gawk while waiting, and then had taken up a position leaning against the secretary's desk, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Welcome back," he greeted with a dry smile when the man appeared. "Do you think you'll need a tour?"

@Balthazar Urquart, open to Unspeakables

Balthazar Urquart was hit by a wave of familiarity as he stepped into the Department of Mysteries for the first time since he left it five years prior. While he knew the inner workings of the department were ever-changing, the physical shell that housed them was, reassuringly, ever the same, filling the new department head with both a sense of déjà vu and a feeling of homecoming. He had spent more than a decade here, before everything had changed, and while part of him worried that moving backwards could do more harm than good, he was, by and large, eager to return to the work he had loved before life had become…tarnished by the swinging of the pendulum.

The first face to greet him was not the present secretary, as Balt had expected (who was pointedly not looking in his direction but instead busying herself with a sheaf of papers on her desk), but his replacement. Well, the man who currently held his old job—Balt knew Mulciber had not been a direct appointment.

“I doubt it—Mrs. Lestrange never took me as the sort to redecorate,” he returned, “though if you would rather walk than sit, I’d appreciate being brought up to speed while I get the lay of the land again.”

It had taken a second pregnancy and an even more liberal shift in the Ministry to pry Belphoebe Lestrange from the Department of Mysteries, a vacancy that Balt was privately very glad for. Still, he had to wonder if Mulciber begrudged him the promotion that, traditionally, would have gone to the sitting Assistant Head. True, the Ernest Mulciber he had known had always been more for practice than paperwork, but men were fickle creatures, prone to changing as time wore on.

Rune is a wizard!

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