malice in our eyes. [HoV members]

[Rowan Dalton]

&&Rowan
We're all candy-coated on the outside~

NOTE; This is for characters interested in being a part of HoV only. No spies or anything of that sort; serious HoV members only.

Slowly climbing the stairs up to the seventh floor, Rowan took his time in reaching his destination. He had to be cautious. Black skater shoes thudded dully upon the cool, stone ground, and bluegreen eyes flickered back and forth, ensuring that he was alone. The fingers of one hand were wrapped gently around his pale wand as he went, simply prepared, and his other hand was hidden in one of the pockets of his robe. Completely innocent. Indeed, Dalton didn't appear to be up to anything out of the ordinary -- one might simply think he was taking an afternoon stroll through the corridors. And that was exactly what he wanted people to think. Attracting suspicion was definitely not on the boy's to-do list.

As he approached a rather odd tapestry clinging to the wall, Rowan paused and turned toward it, never having really inspected it before. It featured Barnabas the Barmy, although who exactly that was Row couldn't say, trying to teach trolls how to dance ballet. Yes, ballet. The short little wizard seemed to be having great difficulty, and after the threads of the tapestry moved to display one of the enormous trolls crashing to the ground, Barnabas turned toward the Slytherin. He shot the boy a look of sheer exasperation, and then with a heaving sigh turned back to his pupils and continued the hopeless lesson. Rowan turned away.

Across from the tapestry was a blank stretch of wall; the Slytherin's destination. A hint of a smile curled onto the boy's lips, and he took a few steps toward it, peering at the gray stone. 'I need a room to host the HoV meeting,' he silently thought, and then casually strolled past the stretch of wall. Turning around after he'd gone some distance, Rowan made his way past the wall yet again, running the same silent request through his mind. 'I need a room to host the HoV meeting.'

After walking past the wall a total of three times, a small door appeared out of nowhere. This didn't surprise Rowan in the least, and he approached it as if it had been there all along. He had known it would show up; it always did. Once again the creature gave a quick glance around him, and then he turned the handle and stepped into the room.

It was much darker on the interior than out in the corridor, simply because there was not a single window. A few torch lamps flickered weakly, casting their orange glow over the dark, dungeon-like room. There were a couple old couches, as well as an unlit fireplace, a well-stocked bookcase, a table with some chairs around it, and a bulletin board in the corner. Dalton's smile widened. This was quite perfect of a location.

Drifting toward the fireplace, Rowan lifted his wand and pointed it at the logs that rested inside. "Incendio." A red beam of light shot from the tip of the magical object, exploding into a mass of flame upon collision with the wood. Good; that would help warm the much-too-algid room. Gaze stared into the fire for a moment longer, and then the Slytherin turned and floated over to the couch, sitting down in it upon arrival. Now to wait for the others.

[Kamilla Lestrange]

It took ten minutes for the small, wooden door to reveal itself to Kamilla. She had ignored the instinctive urge to pace, choosing to wait in front of the door, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her lips were absent of blood, pressed into a thin, impatient eye. A small crinkle appeared besides her right eye brow; Kamilla was concentrating, hoping to make the door appear. She stood in front of the door, willing it desperately to open itself to her. She needed to be inside because she was needed inside. As one, two, three minutes passed, Milla's clutch on a crinkled letter tightened, causing the thin parchment to tear. Still, her watering eyes did not leave the rugged, cold stone surface of the wall.

The delicate onion skin based paper tore, floating to the ground softly, tracing a delicate trail on Kamilla's exposed leg. It settled neatly besides her fidgeting toes, slowly creeping to be underneath her foot. The corridor in front of the Room of Requirement's was empty and as silent as a wedding lacking a bride or groom. As Kamilla's toes brought her foot down, she heard the crinkling noises the paper had caused. She quickly glanced down, exhaling with exaggerated relief. She could not bear the concentration it took to conjure a simple door but when she saw the hiding piece of the letter, she quickly resumed her concentrating.

But her wishes were flawed. She had no true desire to be in the Room, besides her cousin, teaching a room of disrespectful Slytherins how to hex and curse at each other. And so, she brought her foot down on the letter, crushing the letter, making the words disappear. "I need a room to host the Heirs of Voldemort meeting."

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---

When the door finally opened, Kamilla was impatient and anxious. She had no watch and she was sure she would be late. Milla took in a sharp breath as she opened the door, hoping to create a lie that would explain her absence by the time the door, and she, disappeared.

The door was slammed rudely, the empty corridor echoed the shutting. The noise vibrated in the tall ceiling, it rung in the air but all Kamilla could think of was how she did not want to be in this small, warm room. The only reason the door had even appeared was out of desperation. Because after eight minutes, Kamilla had stopped wishing for a room to host the meeting. No, after eight minutes she had begun to beg for asylum from her mother.
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[Jonathan Macnair]

Jonathan knew from the second he saw Kamilla disappear into the Room that he should have rethought joining, but he knew what would happen if he didn't go. He knew how angry his father would be; he'd ignore his previous promises to his late wife, Jonathan's poor mother, to not violently discipline his son. He wouldn't care what his mother-in-law would say because a Macnair's place was within the Death Eater ideals. Jonathan knew this, too, so he wouldn't turn tail and go do something else, even though a voice in his head was telling him that it wasn't a good course of action. Shoving it forcefully to the back of his mind, he came to stand where the door had been and it didn't take long for the door to show itself to him.

Expectations were one of the few things that ruled him. He couldn't escape them, even though he desperately wanted to. He supposed there were a lot of people like that as the door swallowed him up. He felt his body tense and his mind sharpen instinctively. He didn't really know exactly what to make of that; he knew the people that would be here, didn't he? He would have to make sure he didn't dare let anything fall through the cracks. His mask needed to stay where it was.

No one could expect anything. This was all about self-preservation, family expectation and pride. He wouldn't dare turn away. He couldn't. It just simply wasn't done.

Here goes nothing and yet everything.

[Sofia Flint]

→S o f i a
{{ Vicious Destroyer}}

Sofia, oddly enough, didn't know what to do with herself. She hadn't the smallest idea of what she wanted to do when she got out of Hogwarts (though many people pictured her being a town whore), or if she even wanted to do anything. She was about as unclear of her goals as she was sure of how much she loved being with men.'

One thing she did know, however, was that she wasn't about to let the death of the Dark Lord seem silly or stupid, and neither would his ideas be seen in the same light. Sofia may seem like she only cared about herself, but she did care deeply for those ideas. She was, if anything, your typical Slytherin (if you even wanted to take into account what 'typical' was). She hated mud-bloods and blood traitors, and thought that all pure-bloods were the superior being.

She had heard about the HoV through whispers and secret conversations for quite some time now. Sofia had always been interested in joining. So now, after finding a bit of a notice to the first meeting, Sofia took off in search of the Room of Requirement. She really did want to, and needed to, find it, so it wasn't a surprise to her when the door appeared immediately. The cat-like grin spread across her face as she reached out a hand for the door.

She opened the door quietly and stepped inside quickly, not wasting any time with shutting the door. She didn't want anyone to go around and see her sneaking in. Sure, some would think she was merely creating a room to have a good time in, but others might be more suspicious. However, Sofia pushed these silly thoughts to the back of her mind as she looked around the darkened room, all ready making out three distinct shapes, one of which was her 'friend' Kamilla Lestrange.

What a bitch, Sofia thought dramtically. Nonetheless, she kept her distaste from contorting her pretty little face and walked toward the small group.

[Livinia Lange]

|| Livinia ||

{ The Queen of Chaos }

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Livi, right on Kamilla's heels as always, followed her sister-like friend through the archway that had formed out of the room of requirements. She watched with an irritable little scowl as Kamilla attempted to open the door a couple of times before it finally opened. But, eventually it did and Livi's scowl disappeared as she followed Kamilla into the room, letting the door slam behind her.

Talk between the two had been tense and clipped since the common room. She wasn't sure if their friendship was going to recover, but, nevertheless she was Kamilla's right hand woman and would remain that way. It was her duty. Even now she stood with her tight, strait posture on the right side of Kamilla with her arms folded and a quizzical, skeptical eyebrow raised.

Holding a meeting in the Room of Requirements had shot that skeptical look onto Livi's face when she was first informed of the idea. Even the Death Eater's in their school days wouldn't use the Room of Requirements. They would practice in the far dungeons or in the forest. She would've much preferred blasting the hell out of Sophia Flint and others in the forest where they were less likely to get caught.

Even though Rowan had really done nothing to her, she still had a lot of pint up anger as she looked upon him. He had damaged her pride. He had pulled her along with his little glances in her direction, occasional flirting, and then that incident when she was sick. All of those had given her hope that he would someday give her the attention she thought she deserved. It turned out she was terribly wrong. She had finally convinced herself that Mr. Dalton wouldn't give her the time of day if he could help it. To Livi, that was a deadly sin against her. Now, she just wanted him gone. Far away.

Letting her gaze travel to the other members in the room, she noticed instantly Sofia Flint and Jonathan MacNair. Just great. She wasn't much happy about them being here, but she supposed family pride had something to do with it. She wouldn't dare let her family down by bowing out and neither would they. No matter, she would have just as much fun blasting their pretty little asses with new hexes. Plus, she wanted to test out her Imperio and Crucio.

Then, with a very harsh glare, she set her eyes on Marcries Contresze. She did not like the man. Not at all. In fact, she wanted him long gone. He had insulted sister, which in turn insulted the entire family and no one insulted her family. It just wasn't done. But, she wouldn't lay a finger on Contresze. She would leave him for Jasper, who would most likely kill him by making him dance off a cliff. Wouldn't that be an amusing end to the days events.

[Professor Macries Contresze]

&//__Macries

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"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."
"It’s the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."

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The Potions Master was merely strolling around the corridor for the off chance that he would catch a wandering student and give them detention and if he'd happened upon a meeting of Dark Magic students he'd act surprised---right. He'd headed this direction on purpose knowing full well what he was going to get himself into and who'd sent him. It was that crazy Lestrange woman who made this whole ordeal happen.

A light sigh escaped his lips as he trotted right past where the door to the Room of Requirement appeared---it was odd, he was merely thinking upon the bit about a meeting place and poof there it had appear and the male walked right by it. Macries stopped in his tracks and kicked himself into reverse as he peered at the door with curiosity. His pale hand touched the brass door handle and pulled away quickly as if it were too hot or too cold. A grin play across his face as he pushed the door open and slid inside.

Macries never had a plan of what he would say or what he would do when a meeting of the HoV would actually occur, he would simply play it out by ear. The crazy Lestrange woman had simply sent him a letter allowing the "former" Deatheater to gain access to knowledge that indeed there would be a meeting and it would be occurring today inside Hogwarts castle.

The Potions Master would also realize as soon as he pushed through that door that some would be shocked to see him and others a bit uncomfortable. None-the-less they would look to him for advisement and he would stand motionless and soundless in the back of the room and allow the ever annoying Rowan Dalton or Kamillia Lestrange take control of the meeting /they/ had organized. The Potions Master was the chaperon to the engagement these students would have in the Dark Arts. If he were caught here with these students---he would merely claim the Imperius Curse or act in full revolt. Whichever happened to occur first.

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[Howl Nott]

Howl pushed his jet-black, greasy hair to the side, out of the way of his eyes. He climbed the stone steps. Up and up they went, spiraling into the void of Hogwarts. His shined black leather shoes hit the stone with a clack. It sounded like he could tap dance in them. Finally, he got to the top of the staircase, slightly out of breath. Howl thought about how smoking has taken its toll. He wasn't going to stop, however, he still loved it.

Howl's mind raced. These were not his enemies. These were not his friends. They were the closest thing he had to friends, but true friends, they were not. They were merely a means. A means by which Howl could arrive at his end. Death of the tainted.

Howl paced to entrance to the Room of Requirement. There he stood, waiting for the stone to mold the door. He fiddled with the cigarettes in his pocket, anxious to get inside so he could have one. He flipped the box upside-down and tapped it to get a cancer stick. He placed it above his ear and tapped his foot, still waiting for the door to appear. Finally, Howl kicked the stone, which appeared to do the trick. The stone wall etched a door into its body and Howl entered.

Walking near the group but still on his own, Howl lit up the cigarette that was on his ear. His obsidian eyes scanned the room. His thoughts were about who had the strength to be an Heir of Voldemort. Soon, the room started to fill with his smoke.

[Rowan Dalton]

&&r o w a n
We're all candy-coated on the outside~

It wasn't long before people began to file in.

Still resting on the couch, Rowan simply turned his head to the door to see who had been the first to arrive. Of course, it was Kamilla, with none other than Livinia tagging along behind her like a puppy. The girl paused and looked in his direction, her eyes flickering with a bit of annoyance, and Dalton responded with a simple smile. He knew perfectly well that the girl didn't appreciate his toying with her heart -- but hey, he couldn't really help it. She was fun to play with.

As Livi pulled her gaze away from him, Rowan focused his eyes on his cousin instead. Kamilla didn't seem to want to be here at all; in fact, she looked as if she would rather be anywhere else. The boy nodded a greeting in her direction, and then leaned forward and lifted himself off of the couch. It was nearing the time for the meeting to start.

The boy walked over to Milla, and was about to say more when the door began to open once again. Bluegreen eyes slid to the growing opening, and after a moment the next person to arrive was revealed; Jonathan Macnair. The seventh year looked completely composed, striding into the room without the least bit of apparent hesitation. Of course, this was to be expected from Jonathan; it was he, after all, who had told Rowan that he planned on becoming the next Dark Lord.

Soon after this entrance came another, and then two more. Sofia Flint, Howl Nott, and, surprisingly enough, Macries Contresze were all gathered in the room in just a short time. Not a single one said anything. Howl and Sofia strode toward the group, but the Potions professor lingered back, just watching the teenagers with a cool demeanor.

Rowan watched the Professor for a moment, unsure whether he was foe or friend, but soon enough decided on the latter. If the man had come to cause trouble, the students would find out soon enough and could easily do something about it. It was six against one, anyway.

Another moment of silence drifted by, and then Rowan came to notice the smoke that was quickly filling the small room. The fireplace? Gaze flicked over to the flames, but Dalton dismissed the idea that they were the cause almost instantaneously -- it smelled strongly of cigarette, and the fire could not have created that. The Slytherin scanned the faces in the crowd, and eventually settled on Howl, who was quite obviously the cause. He approached his housemate quietly, and without so much as a single word grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and performed a banishing charm on the small object. It vanished, and with a wave of his wand the smoke did as well. Rowan turned on the spot, returned to Kamilla, and then began to speak.

"Greetings, everyone." There was a pause as he glanced around at the familiar faces of his housemates, "Welcome to the first meeting for the Heirs of Voldemort. I trust that everyone knows each other, so we won't bother with introductions." Again, the boy's voice ceased for a second, and he couldn't help but wonder where the final, eighth member was. It did not pay to be late, as that last person would surely find out if they chose to show up at all.

"You may be wondering why we have decided to host this meeting in this room, where we can be found by anyone who has heard of our plans. The answer is simple; it really doesn't matter where the meeting is, for if someone besides us knows of this meeting, they will find us. Luckily, we have means to solve any problems like that should they arise."

The boy then turned slightly toward Kamilla and nodded for her to take the stage. It was only fair to allow her to do some of the talking as well, since she was just as much the leader of this group as he was.