Viewing Profile -> Pavon B Sannesley
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With the muggleborns in charge, nothing has really changed since the Battle of Hogwarts. The sides have been switched with those bearing old family names being discriminated against. Once again the revolution is upon us. What side will go to the darkest places to get what they want? Will it be yours?

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Pavon B Sannesley


My Content
Jan 24 2017, 04:08 PM
It was the holidays and as promised, the younger of the Sannesley's was once again working at the Hogsmeade. It was better than staying at Hogwarts and it allowed for more freedom. It gave him something to do and the company of the lady that owned the shop was equally exquisite. To be quite honest, the reason he was here was not so much pay, although he earned more than he usually did, doing homework for others or something similar, but her. Her presence made him feel better. Of course the fact he had once more gone and been able to take a dose of his potion, helped too, but even without that it felt as though whenever she was around his mind and body would, at least for a while, completely forget the dire need for that cursed thing.

So that day he had been at the shop since morning. He opened early, and came even earlier to clean it up and have it prepared for the first customers. Holidays were always a good time to make more sales, especially the ones around winter time when gifting was practically in the contract of having free time.

It was till about noon that customers kept coming in requiring this or that. He helped them, gave advice and sold the soaps, the creams, the perfumes and tonics and whichever else they asked for. He had gotten rather good at recognising what would suit a customer whether by their personality or really, just their appearance. Well noon had come and gone. He had a very short pause and it continued like that till evening when at final last he could think about closing the store again for the day.

When the customer left he turned to check the supplies and began restocking one of the shelves.

Mickey Crawford Artemisia Evergreen
Oct 11 2016, 07:34 PM
It was the end of the first week and there was already very little to look forward to. The worst of the classes was the Muggle Studies one of course. It had a new professor. Some Hart that neither had a heart nor did he deserve its other meaning, of being a stag. It did make Pavon think of the Potters though. While it may have once been a secret about what form a certain animagus took, it had not been in the history books, long after. He sighed. Ok, here he was. Right through the door. He even walked to his desk and he wasn't late. He wasn't really early either. He was not in a hurry. He would have only been in a hurry to get out of the class room again.

After he sat himself down at the table he lifted his hands to rub at his temples. The headache was just what he needed, more. Maybe he could excuse himself and leave? He doubted it though. The professor did not look like the kind who'd excuse someone just because their head hurt. He propped a book - it wasn't even a Muggle Studies one, up infront of him. It was standing up, so that he could lean his chin against his elbow and close his eyes. If only he could sleep through the class. He was tired.

Glancing briefly over to his left, he wondered if the other two that were part of his group would come. The only reason he even came was to hopefully keep the points. He did not care about detentions, but points were something he preferred earning over loosing. He closed his eyes again only to open them to study his quill. It was a lot more interesting than the subject could ever be.

His bag was slung over the chair behind him and there was a roll of parchment in front of him. He hatefully remembered the notebook and pen that he had had to use thanks to Morrigan. If his intention had been to make him hate the muggle things even more, than that professor was successful. If it was anything of the opposite, he failed spectacularly.

Declan Hart
Sep 29 2016, 01:27 PM
After the frightening encounter with a werewolf Pavon had not wanted to risk getting caught by the professors and yet at the same time just wanted to be in the dorm as quickly as possible. He used a shortcut or two, kept out of view and quickly slipped into the dungeons, past the common room and off into his dorm room. He noticed that his room mate was already fast asleep. He slipped out of his robe, folding it so that the dirt could not be visible. Then he began to strip and change into his sleeping robes. He ran his hand through his hair, tucked the few leaves out of it and chugged it on the floor.

He really hoped Maz had waited a little longer before she approached a professor. Of course there was no reason for himself to be called. She would not betray him. They had a story and they'd stick to it. She was attacked long after he'd gone. He returned to his common room and then his dorm. He just hoped his fellow room mate had gone to sleep earlier than needed and thus could not testify against any of that happening.

Once his shoes and socks were off and his sleeping robes were fastened around his waist he turned to slip under the several layers of bedding and blankets. He tugged the fabric up to his nose and sighed contently. He knew he should have brushed his teeth , washed his face, washed his hands, but thought it was enough that he wiped them on a piece of cloth.

He nuzzled his pillow, still a little out of breath. He could not sleep of course, no matter how tired he felt, but at least he was in his bed now, safely in the Hogwarts castle. The wolfman was a bad memory now, nothing more. He wasn't sure if it was better that he would be caught or would have escaped, but decided to allow fate take charge there.

Persephone DeVilaine

Sep 21 2016, 01:57 PM
Happy birthday professor! May you have plenty more and may they be successful!

Lilly Pembrokeshire
Sep 16 2016, 01:38 PM
There were ways to keep one's mind off of the need, want and desire to take something that had been forbidden to him. one of the ways was to fly. It could not compare to the high feeling, the sense of alertness, strength and vigour that the potion would give him, but it was closer to that than if he had simply sat in his chair infront of the fireplace. He had been restless, his headache had started again and just after he managed to rid himself of it, the want of the special concoction returned again. His hands shook for a little while. His temper wished to flare and his feathers seemed to be ruffled at the slightest provocation. Before a first year Slytherin, who had been far too loud in the common room, would find his face flattened by a book and his nose bashed into the desk at which he sat, Pavon decided to simply leave. Those who shared the House with him did not deserve, unless they were mudbloods, to suffer his wrath only because Morrigan and Aiden and Norwood had all been pricks to him.

To let off some steam he headed for the pitch, one of the two of his new brooms held firmly in his grip. His brother, as a feline, insisted that he wanted to have some fresh air and had not waited for Pavon's permission. Instead he bolted out through the secret entrance, the moment Pavon went to open it. He could rave and rage, but his brother was not coming back until he had his share of lounging in the sun, stretched out and enjoying the autumn breeze.

Giving in, the younger Sannesley followed. Once he reached the pitch he could see the dark furred cat just rolling over from one side to the other, all paws in the air and looking back at him with what could be best compared to a smirk. "...Your funeral." Pavon muttered at him, to which his brother flicked his tail, licked his paw rubbed it over his ear and looked anything but concerned. It wasn't like they had gone outside at night. He would not dare venture anywhere near the forbidden forest then. He knew the stakes. But it was a day, like this, and they were still a distance from the area considered dangerous. They were still safe.

Not one to argue any further with the feline that he could not just drag back to the common room - if he tried he would get a nasty bite and scratches, his brother sure knew how to utilize those claws after all this time, and he'd probably figure out a way to use one of the other students to let him out anyway.

Mounting the broom Pavon stared ahead. A moment later he was high in the air, flying as fast as he cared to. His fingers curled around the broom's handle, his eyes, at one point, closed while wind beat against his face, ruffling his hair. He was tired yet stubborn.

Aliana Alcove

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