#byron crabbe

[weirdlookindog]

Concept art for King Kong (1933).

[piedaterreincensorshipville]

I appreciate how dedicated original 1933 King Kong concept artist Byron Crabbe was to the idea of the film's female lead exposing precisely one breast.

[lafcadiosadventures]

Can we take a moment to appreciate Balzac’s teenage Romantic and Hugolâtre protagonist Modeste Mignon? (Based on Balzac’s correspondance with Hanska and Goethe’s and Bettina Brentano’s, she’s an aspiring writer and a lover of the darker romantics -a bit like the heroine of Northanger Abbey perhaps-) this is how her very sensible and bourgeois chaperone introduces her ward, it’s a long quote but it’s fun:

“Modeste,” she said, “is a young girl of very exalted ideas; she works herself into enthusiasm for the poetry of one writer or the prose of another. You have only to judge by the impression made upon her by that scaffold symphony, ‘The Last Hours of a Convict’” (the saying was Butscha’s, who supplied wit to his benefactress with a lavish hand); “she seemed to me all but crazy with admiration for that Monsieur Hugo. I’m sure I don’t know where such people” (Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Byron being such people to the Madame Latournelles of the bourgeoisie) “get their ideas. Modeste kept talking to me of Childe Harold, and as I did not wish to get the worst of the argument I was silly enough to try to read the thing. Perhaps it was the fault of the translator, but it actually turned my stomach; I was dazed; I couldn’t possibly finish it. Why, the man talks about comparisons that howl, rocks that faint, and waves of war! However, he is only a travelling Englishman, and we must expect absurdities,—though his are really inexcusable. He takes you to Spain, and sets you in the clouds above the Alps, and makes the torrents talk, and the stars; and he says there are too many virgins! Did you ever hear the like? Then, after Napoleon’s campaigns, the lines are full of sonorous brass and flaming cannon-balls, rolling along from page to page. Modeste tells me that all that bathos is put in by the translator, and that I ought to read the book in English. But I certainly sha’n’t learn English to read Lord Byron when I didn’t learn it to teach Exupere. I much prefer the novels of Ducray-Dumenil to all these English romances. I’m too good a Norman to fall in love with foreign things,—above all when they come from England.”

Balzac goes on about her tastes a bit more here, and it’s Romantically Inclined Teen 101-excuse Balzac’s remarks about “girlish” heads and souls-:

“(…)Modeste fed her soul on the modern masterpieces of three literatures, English, French, and German. Lord Byron, Goethe, Schiller, Walter Scott, Hugo, Lamartine, Crabbe, Moore, the great works of the 17th and 18th centuries, history, drama, and fiction, from Astraea to Manon Lescaut, from Montaigne’s Essays to Diderot, from the Fabliaux to the Nouvelle Heloise,—in short, the thought of three lands crowded with confused images that girlish head, august in its cold guilelessness, its native chastity, but from which there sprang full-armed, brilliant, sincere, and strong, an overwhelming admiration for genius. To Modeste a new book was an event; a masterpiece that would have horrified Madame Latournelle made her happy,—equally unhappy if the great work did not play havoc with her heart. A lyric instinct bubbled in that girlish soul, so full of the beautiful illusions of its youth. But of this radiant existence not a gleam reached the surface of daily life; it escaped the ken of Dumay and his wife and the Latournelles; the ears of the blind mother alone caught the crackling of its flame.”

Finally, here’s Canalis’ portrait, he’s a bit of a poser, faux Romantic author, who has fashioned his looks after many of Modeste’s idols (i had read Canalis was based on Hugo, but given that Hugo exists in this universe, I am not that sure about that :p)

“In this instance Canalis, sketched in a Byronic pose, was offering to public admiration his dark locks floating in the breeze, a bare throat, and the unfathomable brow which every bard ought to possess. Victor Hugo’s forehead will make more persons shave their heads than the number of incipient marshals ever killed by the glory of Napoleon. This portrait of Canalis (poetic through mercantile necessity) caught Modeste’s eye. The day on which it caught her eye one of Arthez’s best books happened to be published. We are compelled to admit, though it may be to Modeste’s injury, that she hesitated long between the illustrious poet and the illustrious prose-writer. Which of these celebrated men was free?—that was the question.”

[seventh-victim]

pre-production drawings for scenes in the 1933 monster movie, King Kong.  artwork created by Mario Larrinaga and Byron Crabbe.

[coldcoldlampin]

[miamiextra]

Byron Crabbe -

[m00nycore]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 .

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙩/𝙬 : 𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ;; @aesthetic-el @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lord-byron @drxcomvlfx @neocityslut

Draco watched her smile, so wide and uninhibited.

His mood had, admittedly, been sour more often than not that year. Saint Potter was chosen as champion, Moody had humiliated him publicly, and Granger had shrunk her teeth.

As happy as feeding information to Rita Skeeter made him, especially when reading the fruits of his labor and being able to dangle it in front of Potter like a dog bone, the feeling he had then seemed more... pure.

Persephone hardly smiled, save when she was with her cat, or sometimes Blaise- the latter only receiving smirks or average grins. He didn’t care- he shouldn’t care. Perhaps it was the whispers about her family from his parents that had piqued his attention. Maybe it was curiosity.

Her smile was not as unsettling to him as the sound of her laughter- if he were being honest, he hadn’t heard it in... years? It was new, it was matured to her voice.

At sixteen, it was obvious that she would look different than she did as a child, but he thought... she looked more like she did when she was younger, in that moment. Smiling, hair flowing down her shoulders, walls let down. He envied the last bit.

Some of the Gryffindor girls in their year, as well as Pansy and a few others, looked miffed at Persephone, who smiled as the half giant oaf congratulated her.

One of the golden unicorn foals had made a beeline for the young woman when they were released to pet them. Draco had hung back, uninterested, but it was hard to ignore the sudden laughter that was so unfamiliarly familiar.

She had ended up plopped on the ground, the foal snuggling into her lap. She continued to laugh, smile while the baby whinnied and snuggled into her.

A Hufflepuff friend of her’s- so off of Draco’s radar that he hardly knew her name- brushed Persephone’s dark curls over her shoulder, preventing the foal from nibbling it, as it was trying to.

He briefly wondered why she didn’t wear her hair down like that more often.

Pansy approached, huffing, as Persephone had just invited the other girls down to pet the baby with her. She was kind. Pansy was not.

“She think’s she’s so wonderful, doesn’t she? So cute,” she spat, making Crabbe and Goyle chuckle. Draco stayed quiet, rolling his eyes, an acceptable response.

Eventually, Persephone was able to give others a full turn, escaping the foal who began to cry whenever she left. Hagrid animatedly praised her, telling her how rare it was to have a unicorn foal imprint on someone, how she would be able to find and attract the creature until her death. Pansy scoffed, listening in.

The girl walked towards Blaise, only a few yards away from Draco’s group. Her friend’s eyebrow was arched, and she giggled- giggled!- at him, biting her lip.

“Have fun?” he asked her, a smile in his voice.

“Very much,” she replied.

“You’re going soft on me, Bardick.”

The girl rolled her eyes, her previous grin resigned to a small smile. “A soft spot for animals... gee, I’m a typical girl now, aren’t I?”

Without thinking, Draco let out a chuckle. Pansy and the boys looked at him, confused. Persephone had sat down on the grass, staring at the unicorns from a distance while Blaise stood, unbothered.

Typical girl? Persephone Bardick, you are anything but.

[weepforadonais]

You are right — Gifford is right — Crabbe is right — Hobhouse is right — you are all right — and I am all wrong — but do pray let me have that pleasure. —Cut me up root and branch — quarter me in the Quarterly — send round my "disjecti membra poetae" like those of Levite's Concubine— make— if you will — a spectacle to men and angels — but don't ask me to alter for I can't — I am obstinate and lazy (...)

Lord Byron, from a letter to John Murray; August 12th, 1819.

[pulpsandcomics2]

 “King Kong”  production drawing by Willis O'Brien and Byron Crabbe

[spacejockeylookingforahome]

Dear Doctor, I have Read your Play

BY LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON)

Dear Doctor, I have read your play, Which is a good one in its way, Purges the eyes, and moves the bowels, And drenches handkerchiefs like towels With tears that, in a flux of grief, Afford hysterical relief To shatter'd nerves and quicken'd pulses, Which your catastrophe convulses. I like your moral and machinery; Your plot, too, has such scope for scenery! Your dialogue is apt and smart; The play's concoction full of art; Your hero raves, your heroine cries, All stab, and everybody dies; In short, your tragedy would be The very thing to hear and see; And for a piece of publication, If I decline on this occasion, It is not that I am not sensible To merits in themselves ostensible, But—and I grieve to speak it—plays Are drugs—mere drugs, Sir, nowadays. I had a heavy loss by Manuel — Too lucky if it prove not annual— And Sotheby, with his damn'd Orestes (Which, by the way, the old bore's best is), Has lain so very long on hand That I despair of all demand; I've advertis'd—but see my books, Or only watch my shopman's looks; Still Ivan, Ina and such lumber My back-shop glut, my shelves encumber. There's Byron too, who once did better, Has sent me—folded in a letter— A sort of—it's no more a drama Than Darnley, Ivan or Kehama: So alter'd since last year his pen is, I think he's lost his wits at Venice, Or drain'd his brains away as stallion To some dark-eyed and warm Italian; In short, Sir, what with one and t'other, I dare not venture on another. I write in haste; excuse each blunder; The coaches through the street so thunder! My room's so full; we've Gifford here Reading MSS with Hookham Frere, Pronouncing on the nouns and particles Of some of our forthcoming articles, The Quarterly—ah, Sir, if you Had but the genius to review! A smart critique upon St. Helena, Or if you only would but tell in a Short compass what—but, to resume; As I was saying, Sir, the room— The room's so full of wits and bards, Crabbes, Campbells, Crokers, Freres and Wards, And others, neither bards nor wits— My humble tenement admits All persons in the dress of Gent., From Mr. Hammond to Dog Dent. A party dines with me today, All clever men who make their way: Crabbe, Malcolm, Hamilton and Chantrey Are all partakers of my pantry. They're at this moment in discussion On poor De Staël's late dissolution. Her book, they say, was in advance— Pray Heaven she tell the truth of France! 'Tis said she certainly was married To Rocca, and had twice miscarried, No—not miscarried, I opine— But brought to bed at forty nine. Some say she died a Papist; some Are of opinion that's a hum; I don't know that—the fellow, Schlegel, Was very likely to inveigle A dying person in compunction To try the extremity of unction. But peace be with her! for a woman Her talents surely were uncommon. Her publisher (and public too) The hour of her demise may rue, For never more within his shop he— Pray—was she not interr'd at Coppet? Thus run our time and tongues away; But, to return, Sir, to your play; Sorry, Sir, but I cannot deal, Unless 'twere acted by O'Neill. My hands are full—my head so busy, I'm almost dead—and always dizzy; And so, with endless truth and hurry, Dear Doctor, I am yours, JOHN MURRAY

[kumail-fan]

Thomas Chatterton British poet

Thomas Chatterton British poet

Thomas Chatterton, (born November 20, 1752, Bristol, Gloucestershire, England--expired August 24, 1770, London), chief poet of this 18th-century"Gothic" literary resurrection, England's literary author of adult verse, along with precursor of this Romantic Movement.

Initially believed slow in learning, Chatterton needed a tearful youth, deciding on the solitude of a loft and making no progress with his or her alphabet. 1 afternoon, seeing his mommy split as wastepaper among his dad's older French musical folios, the boy had been entranced with its illuminated capital letters, along with his wisdom started to be participated. He learned to see far beforehand of his era but just from older substances, songs folios, a black-letter Bible, and muniments shot by his dad from a chest at the Church of St. Mary Redcliffe.

About a year after an old parchment he'd inscribed with a rustic eclogue,"Elinoure and Juga," allegedly of this 15th century, tricked its subscribers, and then what had started just as a childish deception turned into a poetic action quite different from Chatterton's declared writings. The title has been obtained from a civilian's monument metal in St. John's Church in Bristol. The poems had lots of shortcomings equally as ancient writings and since poetry. Nevertheless Chatterton threw all his abilities to the poems, allegedly written by Rowley, in such a fashion as to indicate him a poet of genius as well as an early literary leader, equally in diagrams and in sense.

In 1767 Chatterton had been apprenticed to a Bristol lawyer but spent most of his time on his writing, which for a little while he turned into slight gain in Felix Farley's Bristol Journal and City and Country Magazine. The entire life has been irksome to him, nevertheless, and worries started to develop, compounded of a struggle for a free media, contempt for both Bristol and his dowdy household, a philandering mindset to local women, and the"departure" of Rowley.

Chatterton delivered James Dodsley, the writer, letters offering a number of Rowley's manuscripts, but Dodsley dismissed him. Horace Walpole received comparable offers and initially was enchanted with all the"older" poems; however, when informed by friends that the manuscripts were contemporary, he medicated Chatterton with cold contempt, informing him in a letter to follow his calling. Chatterton rewarded him with sour but noble lines. With a mock suicide hazard ("The Last Will and Testament of me, Thomas Chatterton of Bristol"), he compelled his company, John Lambert, to discharge him from his contract and then put out for London to storm town together with satires and pamphlets. A lively burletta (comic book ), The Revenge, attracted some cash, but the passing of a potential patron quenched Chatterton's hopes. Now he composed the most pitiful of his Rowley poems,"An Excelente Balade of Charitie." Though literally hungry, Chatterton denied the food of buddies and, on the night of August 24, 1770, took arsenic in his Holborn garret and expired.

The wake was fame. The only tributes of several poets came following controversy involving the"Rowleians" and people who saw Chatterton as the only writer. Samuel Taylor Coleridge composed a monody to himWilliam Wordsworth watched him "the fabulous boy"; Percy Bysshe Shelley gave him a stanza in"Adonais"; John Keats committed Endymion: A Poetic Romance to him was profoundly influenced by himand George Crabbe, Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, along with Dante Gabriel Rossetti added their compliments. In France the Romantics hailed his instance, also Alfred de Vigny's historically inaccurate drama Chatterton was the version for the opera by Ruggero Leoncavallo.

Read more about  Thomas Chatterton

[docrotten]

The Son of Kong (1933) – Episode 90 – Decades of Horror: The Classic Era

"You'll never catch a monkey that way." Well, Carl Denham oughta know. Join this episode’s Grue-Crew - Whitney Collazo, Chad Hunt, Jeff Mohr, and guest host and special effects artist Ed Martinez - as they make another journey to the jungles of Skull Island for a playdate with The Son of Kong (1933).

Decades of Horror: The Classic Era Episode 90 – The Son of Kong (1933)

The men who captured the giant ape King Kong return to Skull Island and find his likewise gigantic but far more friendly son.

IMDb

  Director: Ernest B. Schoedsack

Writer: Ruth Rose (story)

Special & Visual Effects:

Chief Technician – Willis O’Brien

Art Technicians – Mario Larrinaga, Byron L. Crabbe

Technical Staff – E.B. (Buzz) Gibson, Marcell Delgado, Carroll Shepphird, Fred Reese, W.G. White

Harry Redmond Jr., special effect (uncredited)

Harry Redmond Sr., special effects supervisor (uncredited)

Cast

Robert Armstrong as Carl Denham

Helen Mack as Hilda Petersen

Frank Reicher as Captain Englehorn

John Marston as Nils Helstrom

Victor Wong as Charlie

Ed Brady as Red

Noble Johnson as Native Chief (uncredited)

Steve Clemente as Witch Doctor (uncredited)

Harry Tenbrook as Tommy (uncredited)

Clarence Wilson as Hilda Petersen's Father (uncredited)

This episode signals the return of special effects artist Ed Martinez as a guest host. This time around, he has chosen The Son of Kong for the Decades of Horror: The Classic Era Grue-Crew to discuss. Ed thinks of The Son of Kong as being part of a trilogy begun by King Kong (1933) and completed with Mighty Joe Young (1949). In fact, he credits King Kong with his becoming a special effects artist. Chad thinks of King Kong and The Son of King Kong as one continuous story and whenever he watches King Kong, he usually follows it up with The Son of Kong. Expecting more of the same of what he got in King Kong, Jeff was a little disappointed the first time he saw The Son of Kong. Over time, however, he has come to appreciate the film and particularly likes the genesis of Carl Denham. Whitney loves the film even if it does feel a bit weird to describe a horror film with words like sweet and adorable. Of course, they all had to wonder, whatever happened to Queen Kong?

At the time of this writing, you can catch The Son of Kong streaming on HBOmax or as physical media on a Blu-ray disk from Warner Brothers. While you’re at it, make it a double feature with Pappa Kong’s movie and listen to one of our first Classic Era podcasts, Episode 4 - King Kong (1933).

Chad, Whitney, and Jeff give a big Grue-Crew thank you to Ed Martinez! His passion for and knowledge of stop-motion animation and his experience as a director of special effects and a special effects artist added immeasurably to this episode!

Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror: The Classic Era records a new episode every two weeks. The next episode will see the return of fellow Grue-Crew member Joseph Perry to the podcast and Whitney, Chad, and Jeff can’t wait!  On that episode, they will discuss a movie chosen by Chad which will be The Mummy (1959), from Hammer Film s and starring Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and Yvette, Furneaux. You’ll want to be there for that one.

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans: leave them a message or leave a comment on the site or email the Decades of Horror: The Classic Era podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com

To each of you from each of us, “Thank you so much for listening!”

Check out this episode!

[tlacatecolotl]

Byron L. Crabbe, King Kong (Conceptual art), RKO Radio Pictures, c. 1933

[yahooin-travel-inspirations]

What to do in Sydney’s Bondi Beach

Sydney’s most iconic beach is beloved by locals and travelers, sporting a curvy strip of sand backed by hip bars, cafés, and shops. The impressive waves are a magnet for surfers, but swimmers should stay between the lifeguards’ flags to dodge the dangerous rip tides that have made Bondi Rescue such a popular Aussie TV show. Amateur surfers can take classes with Let’s Go Surfing. Fringed by grassy picnic areas and barbecues, the beach also has a skate park, pavilion, and dramatic pool overlooking the ocean. Foodie drag Hall Street is the go-to for smart eats. Work off the Gelato Messina ice cream on the nearly four mile long Bondi to Coogee Coastal Walk, which takes in beautiful beaches and coves. Stop off at Tamarama for serious surfing or sunbathing, Bronte for lunch or a swim, Clovelly for snorkeling, and Coogee for a final cooling dip. Coogee Pavilion pours rooftop cocktails with sexy sea views. Spring’s Sculpture by the Sea showcase brings art to the walk route. To reach Bondi take the train to Bondi Junction, then a bus; Coogee has bus connections to the city. And while it’s perfectly possible to visit Bondi for a day trip, we recommend staying a night or two. Start with the seven places listed below.

Bondi Icebergs

Oprah Winfrey famously dropped in to Bondi Icebergs during her much-ballyhooed 2011 visit to Australia, which means this place has essentially been anointed as a go-to for anyone with a global profile. But even the plebes among us feel pretty special simply walking through the doors of this beachside icon, which boasts excellent food or, if you’re simply wanting to throw back a few drinks, a nice balcony for tippling.

The Crabbe Hole

This alfresco café, perched above Icebergs pool at Bondi Beach, is a bit of an insider secret. Follow the steps below the Icebergs bar and bistro, and ask the crew to let you through the turnstiles.

Aquabumps Gallery

Founded by local surf photographer Eugene Tan, Aquabumps Gallery occupies a sleek white-walled space in Bondi with a tropical garden courtyard at the end. Come to admire, or buy, Uge’s gorgeous color photos of beach life, with sunrise and sunset shots of surfers catching waves, idyllic ocean pools, and hedonistic sunbathers. You’ll also find black-and-white shots. Alongside snaps of Sydney beaches (Bondi, Tamarama, Bronte, Clovelly, Coogee, Maroubra, and Cronulla) and New South Wales’ blissful Byron Bay, you’ll find images of surf action from Bali to Fiji and Tahiti. Aquabumps started out as a website in 1999, and now attracts a huge, devoted following online as well as via its daily email and Facebook updates.

Gelato Messina

Decorated with cartoonish street art, Gelato Messina dishes up some of the best ice cream and sorbet in Sydney, with unusual house-made flavors from salted caramel to Aperol with pink grapefruit. You’ll also find kooky daily specials on the board and cakes that look like they were whipped up by aliens. Originally started in Darlinghurst, its outlets now include Surry Hills, Pyrmont and most recently Bondi in Sydney, as well as Melbourne, the Gold Coast, and Las Vegas. What’s more, it’s open late into the night. Cue dance music as you wait in line — going out for ice cream is the new clubbing, don’t you know?

Gertrude & Alice Cafe Bookstore

Named for Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, you can browse used books, settle into a comfy couch, or munch on “modern Australian cuisine” like mushroom and leek soup or sweet soy chicken with broccoli; there’s no menu, just a changing list of a dozen specials.

Coogee Pavilion

The Merivale hospitality group is responsible for many of the city’s most successful venue makeovers over the past decade. They have a way of coming in and sprucing a building up so perfectly that you barely remember what it looked like before. Their latest project is this beachside location where you can grab a drink (try the organic juices!), visit the flower stand, get a haircut, or play a classic game like ping-pong or Scrabble.

Adina Apartment Hotel Bondi Beach

Scandinavian-inspired interiors create a sleek vibe at Adina Apartment Hotel Bondi Beach, just a stroll from iconic Bondi Beach on fashionable Hall Street. It’s part of a mixed-use development that has brought big brands to this once laid-back strip, with a bunch of top-notch restaurants and cafés near the pastel-pretty Adina, as well as a handy food hall. Book one of the 111 studios or one- or two-bedroom apartments with neutral schemes featuring hits of coastal color, photos from Bondi surf gallery Aquabumps, smart tech, kitchenettes, and balconies for people-watching. A covered outdoor pool beckons beyond the eye-catching lobby, plus there’s a gym and jacuzzi. At chic Bills restaurant, which serves creative fusion cuisine like tea smoked trout with green tea noodles, kimchee, spinach, and ricotta dumplings with chili oil, and a waygu beef cheeseburger, you can charge food to your room; Sensory Lab café and Gelato Messina’s ice-cream kiosk offer more temptation nearby.

[thosebizzareserpents]

Slytherin Common Room Battle April 22,1998

“Down in the dungeons no one can hear your screams.” 

Tensions come to a head in the Slytherin dungeon against Death Eater Siblings Alecto & Amycus Carrow and the students of Slytherin house. DADA skills will put to the test, secret relations will be revealed and the unlikeliest alliances will form.

Curses Used:

“Long-range Cruciatus��� nonverbal curse a with wide ranging effect

“Threaded” Imperius Curse: Modified by Alecto Carrow Spells used: Silencing Charm

Seventh Years

Blaise Zabini 

(Imperius/memories oblivated) 

Pansy Parkinson

 (Imperius/memories oblivated) 

Millicent Bulstrode 

(Imperius/memories oblivated) 

Daphne Greengrass

(Imperius/ counter-curse fought Amycus&co) 

Tracey Davis

(fought Amycus&co/revealed to be using an alias, daughter of Dorcas Meadowes) 

Theodore Nott

(refused dark mark previous year/snuck back into the school fought Amycus&co) 

Gregory Goyle 

(Imperius/memories oblivated) 

Vincent Crabbe 

(Imperius/memories oblivated)

Sixth Years

Sylvia Melville 

(fought)

Poonima Shah 

(fought/revealed to be daughter of Benjy Fenwick)

Nerys Orpington 

(immobilized/injured)

Titus Mitcham

(immobilized/injured)

Fifth Year

Astoria Greengrass 

(injured/fought)

Byron Miller

(fought)

 Archana Shetty 

injured/fought)

Norman Stacey 

(fought revealed to be a “metamorphagus”)

Sadie Baldock 

(immobilized)

Sourav Kartik 

(immobilized)

Manami Ichijoh

(transferred to Mahoukotoro in 1996)

Fourth year

Mafalda Prewett 

(snuck back to the school from Forest of Dean)

Tabitha Bainbridge

(fought revealed to be a metamorphagus) 

Reiko Sibazaki 

(fought)

Tristram B. 

(transferred to Beauxbatons in 1996 / still corresponds with housemates) 

Graham Pritchard 

Malcolm Braddock 

(injured)

Niles Hanley

Third Year

Phylis Whitehead 

Darius Berrow 

Sebastian Daley 

Horatio Pershore 

Atsushi Takagi

 Bhupen Shastri

Second Year

Cameron Boyle 

Damon Gosforth 

Spencer Whiddon 

Mildred Peebles  

Ona Parangyo

First Year

Kinjal Bhatia 

Gertrude Meads 

Hirohisa Kubo 

Garrick Newbourne

[m00nycore]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 .

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀��𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙩/𝙬 : 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ;; (lmk if you wanna join): @dreaming-about-fanfictions @aesthetic-el @lord-byron​ @drxcomvlfx

Persephone unwillingly followed Draco through the train, lugging her trunk behind her.

The Hogwarts Express was just as she thought it would be, but all she wanted was to read in a quiet compartment.

Draco would have none of that.

They were only thirteen, only just beginning their first year, but Draco strutted as if he owned the place. The entitledness was laughable, but it was how they had all been raised. Shoulders back and posture immaculate, she followed him, but she didn’t have the same aura of tenacity- or, as far as Persephone was concerned, pigheadedness.

“Ah, here we are, Bardick!” Draco exclaimed, opening a compartment larger than the others. It was all Slytherins and children of those who ran in the same circle as their parents.

Draco made a beeline to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, while Persephone made her way to sit in a more secluded area.

“Bardick!” Draco called. “What’re you doing?”

Persephone sighed. “Draco, I’d really rather just read and sit with Aegis.”

Draco scowled. “Have it your way then, Bardick,” he seethed. “Have fun with that mole rat of yours, ugly little thing.”

Persephone froze, turning to Draco with a deathly glare.

“What was that, Draco?” she asked, acid laced in her tone. Draco’s smugness faltered for a second. “I know you didn’t just speak ill of my cat.”

Aegis looked up at her from her arms, from the scarf she wrapped him in. She didn’t want the poor dear to be cold.

She sauntered forward, garnering some looks from others in the compartment. Crabbe and Goyle looked at her with glares.

“Don’t forget that I don’t need a wand to break your nose, Draco,” she murmured.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me...,” she returned to the corner of the compartment, absorbed in the potions textbook she decided to take a look at.

She had no awareness of the time passing, or any of the other’s presence, until something landed suddenly on her book, making her jump, as well as startle Aegis, who was sleeping.

It was a cauldron cake. She looked up, wondering if someone had accidentally flung it and was looking for it back.

All she saw was Draco walking back to his seat with a smirk.