Post by PotR Admin on Oct 21, 2008 17:34:52 GMT -6
• • Come let's mix where Rockefeller's walk with sticks...
War has ended. It's 1946, and while the muggles mourn their dead and rebuild their bombed cities, the wizarding world is also emerging from a war-scattered heap and fumbling to put the pieces back together. Grindelwald is defeated. He's incarcerated in the very prison he built to hold his political enemies, left to wallow in his own humiliation. Explanations of how exactly Dumbledore defeated him are few and vague, but idle tongues are busily spreading their own takes on how the spectacular final battle went. What the wizarding people at large do know, and very much want to believe, is that the endless elevation and collapse, shock and revelation of war are over, and their everyday lives can once again take center stage. It's over.
• • Different types who wear a day coat, pants with stripes...
Whispers of atrocities like 'feminism' and 'equal opportunities' have not yet permeated wizarding society. A woman's place is very much in the home, if you want to be rich you'd better have been born rich, and anything more sexually extreme than holding hands is frowned upon. Teenagers are a barely acknowledged section of the population, a fraction of society who are best shoved under the rug and forgotten about. They're left there until they become pleasant, socially amenable adults. Life goes on. What exactly they do while under the rug is anyone's guess, for in truth, they aren't policed nearly as well as their parents would like....
• • Dressed up like a million dollar trouper...
Hogwarts is filled with rebels mad and broken. Teachers can ban the less desirable aspects of the teenage experience, but they understand little enough about this odd group of people to be hopeless at enforcing it. Firewhiskey and one night stands are rife in Hogwarts; hearts are breaking, as are livers, and it's a miracle anyone manages to show up for class. The war has made everyone that bit more wary that every day might be their last, and for most, hedonism has overtaken the moderation and control of war.
• • If you're blue and you don't know where to go to...
A pureblood elitist is not a fashionable thing to be right now; however unconvinced the likes of the Black's and the Lestrange's are of Dumbledore's cause, their disquieting voices are kept to select dinner parties and the shadier stretches of Knockturn Alley. Most of the old families have emerged unscathed and regained their hold as the pillars of society, but putting on a brave face is all part of their agenda, and it doesn't make them one bit convinced. They're humiliated. They sure as hell don't take to that. Most purebloods are determined that the next generation will not be brought up believing this namby-pamby let's all hug a mudblood tripe; disillusioned, they may well be, but a silent vow echoes through pureblood high society that if another champion of their cause emerges, they will march under their banner....
• • Why don't you go where fashion sits...
Within the darker corners of Hogwarts, things are stirring. Tom Riddle, newly anointed Head Boy and model student, seems in ways to be a bit too popular. His gang (or followers, as their enemies call them) have a certain dark glamour, but few would associate with them by choice. Meanwhile, the Quidditch teams are sick and tired of the ban imposed during the war. Quick tip, Headmaster Dippet: when you have a group of people equipped with broomsticks, don't piss them off. They have ways of making you airtight.
• • • PUTTIN' ON THE RITZ!
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