Post by Andrew Evans on Jun 29, 2010 16:43:23 GMT -5
((OOC: Check this thread for the Daily Prophet article.))
Andrew was sat in the great hall, a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet laid on the table in front of him, and he was just helping himself to breakfast. Tea, orange juice, and toast were on the menu that particular morning, purely because they were all in arms reach. He wasn't truly awake yet, it was still far too early, but he had been woken up by the sunrise and couldn't get back to sleep. The Owls were accustomed to the older students emerging for breakfast early or late, depending on the day, and so he hadn't been surprised when his mail had arrived within seconds of him sitting down; that was the usual, if not always so early in the morning. The hall, when he bothered to look around, was fairly empty. A few of teachers were up early as well, though they were from the outdoor subjects so it was normal for them, and others were beginning to file in as he woke up more.
When he had finished his cup of tea, and was feeling a little more awake, he turned to the Prophet and started skimming across the front page. He noticed the name Rederick, then saw Langston's preceding it and what looked to be an interview. That was less interesting for this time in the morning; from what his brain was awake enough to compute it was just a biased attack on what the ministry was and wasn't doing, and he really didn't want to try reading between the lines just yet. The other article on the page was about an attack, and as he read the headline he began to wonder what his sisters were up to, this was the sort of thing that they would be bound to be investigating, although he hadn't heard from them in months. All these attacks, whatever the ministry was doing it wasn't enough, regulations bound them half the time and the rest they didn't know how bad the situation really was.
Andrew's bleary eyes were drawn to the picture, as the frame moved back across the scene to the bodies lying on the floor. As the first face came into view he just glanced over it, not expecting to see anything useful at all, when the second face came into view he did a double take, and as he saw the third his brain woke up, and boy did he wish it hadn't. Staring dumbstruck at the page, it took a full ten seconds before he realised that his mouth was wide open, his toast was sat in his lap, and he was holding his breath. His breath caught in his throat as he his the mess, and as he began to breath normally again he moved his plate to one side and pulled the paper closer to him. Trying to calm himself, he read through the article properly, still not fully believing what he had seen. The description of their activities certainly sounded like his sisters, the way would carry out investigations, but it just couldn't be them! Surely they knew better than to take on too many by themselves, but maybe they thought there would be less there.
The more he thought about it, the more his brain tried to rationalise it, that it could be them in the picture. His emotions were torn; despair, disbelief, anger, just a few at the surface. He was confused, deep down he knew that they were his sisters, and that they were dead, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe it, to accept it. There was an address given to send information to, and he knew that he should confirm their identities, but something was holding him back. He would not allow himself to accept it, not yet; first he would go to St. Mungo's and see for himself, make sure he wasn't mistaken. After he was sure he would identify them for the authorities, so that proper funeral arrangements could be made, and their time would not be wasted. Then he would be alone, truly an orphan, and although he had no wish to grieve until he was certain, it was already beginning to eat at him. A single tear ran down his cheek as he folded up the paper, poured another cup of tea and began to drink it, trying to hide his face and his grief from view.
Andrew was sat in the great hall, a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet laid on the table in front of him, and he was just helping himself to breakfast. Tea, orange juice, and toast were on the menu that particular morning, purely because they were all in arms reach. He wasn't truly awake yet, it was still far too early, but he had been woken up by the sunrise and couldn't get back to sleep. The Owls were accustomed to the older students emerging for breakfast early or late, depending on the day, and so he hadn't been surprised when his mail had arrived within seconds of him sitting down; that was the usual, if not always so early in the morning. The hall, when he bothered to look around, was fairly empty. A few of teachers were up early as well, though they were from the outdoor subjects so it was normal for them, and others were beginning to file in as he woke up more.
When he had finished his cup of tea, and was feeling a little more awake, he turned to the Prophet and started skimming across the front page. He noticed the name Rederick, then saw Langston's preceding it and what looked to be an interview. That was less interesting for this time in the morning; from what his brain was awake enough to compute it was just a biased attack on what the ministry was and wasn't doing, and he really didn't want to try reading between the lines just yet. The other article on the page was about an attack, and as he read the headline he began to wonder what his sisters were up to, this was the sort of thing that they would be bound to be investigating, although he hadn't heard from them in months. All these attacks, whatever the ministry was doing it wasn't enough, regulations bound them half the time and the rest they didn't know how bad the situation really was.
Andrew's bleary eyes were drawn to the picture, as the frame moved back across the scene to the bodies lying on the floor. As the first face came into view he just glanced over it, not expecting to see anything useful at all, when the second face came into view he did a double take, and as he saw the third his brain woke up, and boy did he wish it hadn't. Staring dumbstruck at the page, it took a full ten seconds before he realised that his mouth was wide open, his toast was sat in his lap, and he was holding his breath. His breath caught in his throat as he his the mess, and as he began to breath normally again he moved his plate to one side and pulled the paper closer to him. Trying to calm himself, he read through the article properly, still not fully believing what he had seen. The description of their activities certainly sounded like his sisters, the way would carry out investigations, but it just couldn't be them! Surely they knew better than to take on too many by themselves, but maybe they thought there would be less there.
The more he thought about it, the more his brain tried to rationalise it, that it could be them in the picture. His emotions were torn; despair, disbelief, anger, just a few at the surface. He was confused, deep down he knew that they were his sisters, and that they were dead, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe it, to accept it. There was an address given to send information to, and he knew that he should confirm their identities, but something was holding him back. He would not allow himself to accept it, not yet; first he would go to St. Mungo's and see for himself, make sure he wasn't mistaken. After he was sure he would identify them for the authorities, so that proper funeral arrangements could be made, and their time would not be wasted. Then he would be alone, truly an orphan, and although he had no wish to grieve until he was certain, it was already beginning to eat at him. A single tear ran down his cheek as he folded up the paper, poured another cup of tea and began to drink it, trying to hide his face and his grief from view.
