A friend in need is a friend indeed (2093)

[Chloe Hargreaves]

(At this time Chloe has a close knit group of friends and spurns above all the close company of men...)

Sharp eyes drawn to the edge of the forest Chloe's gaze caught the glimpse of a cloak as a student risked life and limb to venture deep within. A prickish look came about her as she sighed, it wasn't cool to go in the forest during the day, the dead of night was the time, that was when bravery and fortitude were truly tested. Her close group of friends; all in Ravenclaw and all female had slightly differing views towards the forest, Liandria thought it beautiful, enticing, Sally threw caution to the wind believing all the rumours whereas Anne wanted proof before she believed a single thing about it. Sally listened openly to rumour when Anne dismissed for just that, plain rumour, amplified and exaggerated each time along the grapevine. Chloe was wary of the arcane, ancient place having heard directly from her father the tales, or rather what he had witnessed first hand, and he needed proof, pure and absolute. The four would wrap a thick black cloak about them and in the dead of night descend from their dormitory, eluding the prefects and sneaking past the professors, usually they made it free and clear. They had been in a few times now and were gradually increasing in confidence, the first time they had jumped at the slightest shadows, wands constantly drawn for fear of attack, now they were slightly less cautious.

Chloe smiled faintly remembering the centaur bearing down on them last time, they'd narrowly escaped up into the trees, and the centaur had soon dismissed them, after a curt warning about the dangers.

Now sat beneath the bows of a tree its roots eagerly reaching towards the lake, her back was pressed against its tough bark several books spread about her while a small cauldron bubbled right before her, she took ingredients from her satchal measuring and throwing bits and pieces in once giving the guides a quick once over. As the liquids turgid colour turned to a crimson red she grinned a little maniacally, pulling a small cordial from her bag she poured a little of the mixture in, replacing the stopper she tucked the cordial into a pocket and continued the process of brewing, throwing in several further items, a lock of blond hair that she gave a look of hatred at as she dropped the offending article into the mixture, stirring it carefully wth a flick of her wand. Peering over she watched the colour change once again; turning a murky yellow. With the concotion near completion she settled back allowing the mixture to brew and settle, taking up a book in one hand her eyes roved over the crumpled pages, some corners turned in as she idly swished her wand to stir the mixture continuously.

The only problem was getting somebody to drink it; in their tea could work, or maybe in something a little stronger?

[Fitz Hargreaves]

(Being in Gryffindor and finding lessons tiresome Fitz is more outgoing and to be frank troublesome; especially when he has an audience. Shrewd even though young and often naive, he understands people, and knows how to manipulate them with the correct words, particularly when writing, which was his enduring passion even way back then.)

Dia and Quinn were nowhere to be found when he arose from his pit rather late in the day, Dia was likely studying in the library, and Quinn might even be within the forest, gallavanting off somewhere. Fitz wanted something in between, not being cooped up in doors but not out in that forest either, it never went well for him whenever he stepped foot inside the blasted place. No he'd stick to the immediate grounds if he could. Persuading a bunch of bored Gryffindors his age to go play quidditch at the lake wasn't difficult, especially with his powers of persuasion as it were. So in the midst of a gang of guys Fitz wandered down towards the lakeside, secretly hoping that he'd spy Quinn or Dia enroute, true he liked quidditch but it grew tiresome after too long, especially when surrounded purely by guys as he was presently, they became too competitive, and worse manish.

As the makeshift game got underway, with one hapless guy who'd pulled the shortest straw making the three hoops hover in mid-air Fitz was goalie as the match began with two on each side and four teams; needless to say it was bedlam. With the guys pouncing upon each other the quaffle rarely surfaced, and only span his way a couple of times. That was until big Dave joined the match and simply shoulder barged others out of his path, as the quaffle came shooting from his beefy shoulders Fitz just managed to get a fingertip to it, knocking the shot aside, only its slightly altered path was towards a girl sat beneath a tree not a hundred yards off to the lakeside. With a nose deep within her book she'd never notice; until too late. Leaning upon his broom he dived down to try stopping the accident, if only his old broom was quick enough...

[Chloe Hargreaves]

Boys, they always turned up when not wanted, nearly always in the way and bumbling buffoons mre often than not in her experience. Now they were starting up a stupid game of quidditch here, it wasn't that she despised quidditch, she wasn't overly fussed by it, only she was against their choice of location, clearly the pitch was the place for it, not with some guy who lost his concentration every five seconds and keeping keep the hoops alfoat. Rolling her eyes she immersed herself within her book once more, eyes narrowing and pretending not to notice the looks she was shot. They nudged each other and grinned probably pointing out the freak or some such rubbish. Tutting under her breath Chloe read up about a typical theifs state of mind when they broke into a wizarding property, what drove them to commit the felony in the first place, it was usually their past.

Wondering why people couldn't forget the past and just focus upon the now, change the person they were if necessary she believed most criminals were a little stupid, rarely were they criminal masterminds planning a major heist, just people who had stupidly lost their way. The rare ones were the ones you had to look out for though, those were the ones who made the headlines and caused real havoc, they were unpredictable and generally clever to boot, perhaps one day she'd come up against such a mind, she wondered how she'd handle it.

It was then, with her thoughts somewhat preoccupied, when she was alerted to the quaffle flying her way, some inane sense within her was intune to the environment around her and surfaced to hear the yells of shock and hoots of laughter as the quaffle sailed towards her. Eyes widening in panic she nonetheless had the wits about her to summon up her energy and knock the quaffle aside in midflight, breathing a sigh of relief she gaped in amazement as a figure upon a broom hurtled at breakneck speed towards her. Acting instinctively she dived aside sorely hoping her potion wasn't hit, all that work for nothing, it would drive her over the edge...

[Fitz Hargreaves]

As he careered towards the young witch, whom he vaguely recognised even through his sense of impending doom one thought rang clearest in his head, rather one single word; idiot. Why the hell hadn't he thought of using a wand, the thing was he never really did as his wandwork was known by all to be shabby, his teachers often gave up as he tried to no avail to levitate even light objects, he just didn't have the focus for it as his mind whirred about thinking of other things, namely to do with writing his next column in the school newspaper.

Now as he careered towards the witch he knew, knowing his own luck rather well, that it would end in a collison of some sort, of course he tried to change course, but his broom and own reflexes weren't fast enough as pulled up as sharply as he could his speed reduced dramatically, yet he still clipped the cauldron, narrowly careering away and dropping off his broom before it drove him right into the ground. Landing in a heap he lay prone a moment trying to catch back the breath that had been driven forcibly out of him. Groaning he looked up from his position on the ground, watching his broom crash into the next tree in its path, one that stood guardian over the forest. With a low moan he picked himself up dusting down his clothes and noticing the bruises already flourishing on his right arm which he'd landed heavily upon, thankfully it didn't feel broken. Grumbling Fitz turned back as his fellow Gryffindors landed about him, hooting with laughter at his antics, scowling he gingerly touched his arm, prodding gently to make sure nothing was broken.
"Nice landing Hargreaves," laughed big Dave his guffaw louder than the rest, "n I think you've annoyed the freak too ya know." He nodded back towards the tree, Fitz's face fell, he knew of their reputation, about to turn tail and run he was immediately waylaid by the laughing bunch of Gryffindors in his way, he needed to get out quick, she'd jinx him into next year!

[Chloe Hargreaves]

The air literally whooshed as the boy flew overhead, narrowly missing her by scant inches. Immediately her attention flew to the cauldron, and its contents seeping into the ground, "no!" She shrieked scrambling on her hands and knees towards it, hands pressing into the earth where her potion was steadily disappearing. Panic stricken Chloe's eyes narrowed dangerously as she peered into the cauldron, hoping against hope a little could be saved, deep in the bowels who hopes were realised, quickly grabbing a flask from her satchel she set about drawing out the remaining liquid.

As lads of all shapes, sizes and ages ran off to hoot at the boy whose fault the entire lot had been, Chloe's anger seethed, that potion had been crucial. It had taken days to brew, unfuriated she stoppered the flask near frantically shoving fallen ingredients from the grass into her satchel. Swinging the bag onto her shoulder the young witch scrambled to her feet, eyes stormy she set off afer the culprit, whose escape was being held up by his so called 'friends'. Walking quickly up to the boy, in one swift motion she grabbed a hold of his hair yanking him forward, surprise on her side she jabbed her wand into his neck. "Tell me why I shouldn't curse you into oblivion," she spat, her voice cold and remorseless. Amusement mingled with shock eminated from the gathered crowd, who marvelled at the speed in which her wand had been drawn and was now pressed threateningly into his neck.

Not giving him chance to reply she whispered into his ear, "fight me, show me you're a man," with that she shoved him hard, and he fell into the crowd who held him aloft then preceeded to push him into the center of the gathering circle, they were crying aloud for a duel now, and Chloe would give them one.