*shyly raises hand* Can I request to join Dumbledore? Please?

Darkking, I'd love to switch with you!

@Dumbledore+Voldemort, is this alright with you? 

Day Six:

Beverly woke, screaming, from a nightmare and reached for Spiffycat, only to remember her unfortunate demise. Tears started flowing down her cheeks. She tossed and turned miserably, more tears coming as she realized that she was alone in the world. Spiffycat and Emerald Frost were now dead. There was no one else, except… was there something she was missing? She thought there was.

Sighing, she turned again and tried to get to sleep. She lay in silence for a few moments, only to be disturbed by the mewing of a CAPTCHA next door.

The CAPTCHAs! Of course! She would go back home and be with Empyreal and Taoa. Glad now to have a plan, she jumped out of bed, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs. She strode purposefully through the empty bar, ignoring the bartender wiping out a tankard, and opened the door.

Only to find that it wouldn’t budge.

She yanked as hard as she could, but the only effect was her falling painfully backward. Wishing desperately for a wand with which to cast Alohomora, she tried again. And again. And again.

—

Summer woke early and headed downstairs for breakfast. Upon entering the dining hall, she was alarmed to see Beverly curled up on the floor, sobbing miserably. Summer dropped her bag and ran over.

“Beverly, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I- I- I’m all alone! And the- the-” she broke down into tears. Summer knelt down beside her, urging her to take deep breaths.

“The what?”

“The door’s locked!!”

Gasping, Summer jumped up and pulled out her wand, placing it on the door handle. “Alohomora!” she cast. There was no effect. “ALOHOMORA!” she said again, but again nothing happened. Still sitting on the floor, Beverly began to cry even harder. Summer took a deep breath, gathered as much focus as she could, and yelled, “ALOHOMORA!!!” Alas, this still did not help.

“It’s okay, Beverly,” Summer said calmly, despite her own growing fear, “Everything’s going to be alright. I’m going to get Dumbledore and see if he can help, okay?”

Beverly made the slightest little nod of her head. Summer patted her back one last time and headed upstairs to Dumbledore’s room. She barged right in without knocking.

“Summer! What’s the matter?” Dumbledore said with some surprise.

“The door is locked. And Beverly is collapsed on the ground crying. And it’s ALL. YOUR. FAULT!”

“My fault?” he asked, concerned. “Why is it my fault?”
“You’re the one who invited us here, and you’re the one who didn’t do a good enough job of investigating the murders, and you’re the one who didn’t let us leave when things got bad!”

“I promise you that I had no idea that the door was locked. Did you try Alohomora?”

“YES, I tried Alohomora! It didn’t work! Actually, you know what, this is completely useless. I’m going to try to be USEFUL and help Beverly.” She spun around and began to leave angrily.

“Summer- Summer, wait. I am trying to find the murderer, but it’s hard when no one will tell me anything. Who do you think is the murderer?”

She turned back to face him. “Well…”

—

Beverly placed her dinner plate in the sink and locked eyes with Summer across the room, motioning the CBer to come over.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I was, er, wondering if you might want to, um-” She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling, a bit embarrassed to be asking this. Luckily, Summer seemed to understand what she was going for.

“Share a room? Since we’ve both lost our families?”

“Yes!” said Beverly with relief. “Yes, that was what I was thinking.”

“Cool! You want to come up with me and grab your stuff?”

Beverly nodded and ran up the stairs to grab her suitcase. She darted in and out of her room as quickly as she could and continued running back down the hallway to Summer’s room. In her excitement, she wasn’t looking where she was going and ran smack into Leafpool.

“Sorry!” they exclaimed in unison, and each stepped to the side to let the other through. Then, each started forward, hesitated, and stepped back again.

“Okay, this is getting a bit silly,” said Leafpool finally. “You go ahead.”

Beverly started forward, then hesitated yet again. “Sorry, I need to get right where you are.”

Leafpool nodded and stepped aside, letting Beverly through into Summer’s room. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and placed her suitcase on the bed that had miraculously appeared since the last time she’d been here. Ah, magic, she thought to herself with a smile.

Summer opened the door with a creak and smiled to see Beverly rolling like a log from one end of the king-sized bed to the other.

“Looks like fun,” she observed, “though it does seem like you’re getting all wound up in that blanket.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big problem,” replied Beverly. “It’s awfully cold in here.”

Summer pursed her lips and pointed her wand at the fireplace. “Incendio!” she said.

“Handy spell,” commented Beverly, not realizing the dangers of setting a fire without opening the flue in the fireplace…

—

The murderer stood in the shadows, glad to have dispatched their main enemy. But they had overlooked a major flaw: Noon was still alive. And unlike Summer, she would be very cautious in her revenge for the death of her CBer.

—

Soren knocked on Summer’s door, preparing a speech in her mind. Dumbledore sent me to check that you were okay, even though I told him everyone sleeps in sometimes… There was no response to her knock. Slightly confused, she knocked again. They’re probably just really tired, she told herself, but a niggle of doubt was growing. When there was still no response, she opened the door slowly.

A gust of smoke blew out straight into her face. When her natural tears cleared, she walked carefully into the room. There was a sputtering fire in the corner, and the ceiling was stained black with soot, but her eyes looked away from these quickly to the bodies lying on both beds. Soren ran to Summer, her eyes wide. Her fingers moved quickly to find a pulse. Alas, there was none.

Beverly didn’t have a pulse either.

Poor Beverly, thought Soren. All she wanted was a friend, and it backfired- Backfired. Oh dear. Soren sat down hard and began to cry.

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws, Summer, Beverly

Suspects: Kitten, Ella Starburst, Andrea, Zeke

—

Gracia and Darkking, we will be happy to accept your request, though you'll have to wait a few "days" for it to come in. 

Yikes! I'm dead!

Smoke inhalation? Darn, I knew I should have checked if the flue was open!

It sort of makes sense, though, in a gruesome way. I was interfering too much with the murderer's plans, so they killed me.

Aww, poor Beverly. Now Spiffy's entire crew is dead. 

Day Seven:

Jarnen woke abruptly and, remembering his pranking plan, grinned. He quietly slipped out of bed and grabbed the huge, fake spider he had bought at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes the night before. He eased open the door to Serene’s bedroom and placed the giant spider on her sheets. Then, in a singsong voice, he said, “Serene, wake up, Serene.”

Serene opened one eye, and then, when she had deemed it safe to wake up fully, opened the other. Suddenly, she spotted the fake spider (which looked incredibly lifelike) sitting on her legs. She shrieked and tumbled off the bed in terror. The spider, being magic, scuttled over to her head and began gently tapping her face.

“Get it off! GET IT OFF!” Serene screamed. Her arms and legs began flailing hysterically. Jarnen cracked up and collapsed onto the bed in laughter.

Finally, the spider’s magic wore off after a few minutes (Jarnen had bought it pretty cheaply). Serene had curled into a tight ball underneath her bed, intermittently screaming and moaning. Finally she crawled out, gasping.

“Jarnen! Why would you DO that to me?!” she shrieked. Jarnen was still chuckling.

“Because it’s hilarious,” he answered. Serene groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Jarnen…” came a warning voice from the doorway. Both AEs turned around to see Leafpool standing in the doorway, glaring at him disapprovingly. However, Jarnen could also see that she was hiding a smile.

“Sorry, Leafpool,” he said innocently.

“You two woke me up with your crazy antics!” was her response. She grinned. “Let’s make the best of it. Change into clothes. We’re going down to breakfast.”

Ten minutes later, Leafpool, a shell-shocked Serene, a still-cackling Jarnen, and a grumpy Arwen made their way down to the dining room. What they saw was not what they expected. A small knot of CBers stood solemnly around Soren, who, between sobs, was describing her experience that morning.

“-And then I opened the door, and there was a bunch of smoke, and– and Summer and Beverly were both dead!” Leafpool and her AEs exchanged shocked glances, and Serene bowed her head in sorrow.

“It makes sense, though,” Arwen reasoned. “Summer had her CAPTCHA killed, so she went and reported it to Dumbledore. She was the main one working against the murderer, so they must have– WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!” Everyone in the dining room was ogling her. Leafpool coughed pointedly.

“Arwen, can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked quietly. Arwen looked puzzled.

“Sure.” she shrugged. Leafpool led her to a corner and began whispering.

Jarnen helped himself to a large plate of buttered toast. Sure, people were dead, but it didn’t really affect him. Leafpool was still fine, as well as the rest of his friends.

Dumbledore entered the dining room, but stopped when he saw Soren crying. “What’s the matter?” he asked gently. Soren continued sobbing.

“Summer and Beverly are dead,” Levana explained for her CBer. Dumbledore nodded in understanding. He raised his voice to address the entire dining room.

“Everyone, we don’t have anything planned today. You are welcome to explore Diagon Alley on your own today. However, in light of recent developments” -he nodded toward Levana- “there are a couple of rules.” There was a collective groan. Dumbledore continued. “You must travel in groups of two or larger. This is for safety reasons, as we now know there is a murderer on the loose. Additionally, you must stay in Diagon Alley. Do not travel to Knockturn Alley, and do not go anywhere else, by floo powder nor by other means. We are only giving you this freedom because we know we can trust you.” Jarnen giggled at that, but was stopped by Voldemort glaring at him sternly. He seemed especially fierce today. Could Dumbledore’s rules be making him angry? Jarnen wondered.

Dumbledore smiled at everyone through his glasses. “Now,” he said, sweeping his arms wide, “go forth!”

—

It had been a long and tiring day, and as Jarnen lounged in his room, eating Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, he thought back on it. He had gone with NK to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and since they had never seen it before, they were overcome with delight. He had accompanied Leafpool to Flourish and Blotts, where she had purchased an eagle-feather quill (boring!), and in return, she had accompanied him to Florean Fortescue’s ice cream shop and treated him to a sundae (much more exciting!) All in all, Jarnen decided, it had been a great day.

Leafpool knocked on his bedroom door. “Jarnen, just a heads up: we’re leaving for dinner in ten minutes,” she called. Ten minutes? He was ready now! As soon as Leafpool was gone, he snuck out the door into the hallway, and then down to the front door.

“Huh? What’s this?” he muttered. A large envelope was tucked under the door. He yanked it out and scanned it for a return address, but there was none; only a short sending address to indicate that Jarnen was the receiver. Ripping it open eagerly, he found an ordinary-looking indigo tie. A note was pinned to the end:

Self-tying tie

Jarnen grinned as prank ideas flooded his brain. He decided that he would give it to Arwen and suggest that she try it on, then witness her surprise as it tied itself! There was only one problem: Arwen didn’t trust him, with good reason. He would need a second person to pull this plan off. How about NK? he thought. They were pretty amazed by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes earlier. Yes, Jarnen decided, NK would be the perfect person to help out.

Without wasting a second, he ripped off the note, stuffed it in his pocket, and raced out the door into the main hallway. Finding room fifteen, he knocked on the door. Kat’s face appeared.

“Can you get NK?” Jarnen asked. Kat looked puzzled.

“Sure,” she said. Then she was gone, but a minute later, NK appeared. Jarnen beckoned them to step into the hallway.

“What’s up?” NK asked, eyes shining. Jarnen pulled out the tie and chuckled.

“This is a self-tying tie,” he explained. NK interrupted him.

“Where’d you get it?” they asked curiously. Jarnen looked annoyed.

“Unimportant. The point is, I’m gonna give this tie to Arwen, and watch as she tries to put it on. But since Arwen doesn’t trust me, I need a second person in on it. That’s where you come in.”

“Got it!” they exclaimed eagerly. “So, when do we-”

Suddenly, NK’s voice was cut off by the tie that flew out of Jarnen’s hands and wrapped itself around their neck. Frantically, they tried to tug it off, but the tie only wrapped tighter. NK’s face turned purple, then pale. They collapsed into a heap on the floor. The tie didn’t stop there, mercilessly strangling them until their rattling breaths died down completely. Once it was certain NK was dead, it flew up and began choking Jarnen.

He tried to croak for help, but blackness was clouding in from the sides of his vision. He could only feel the tie, heavy around his throat, as he collapsed.

—

Dumbledore raced up the stairs into the hallway where the guests stayed. He gasped when he saw NK and Jarnen’s bodies in the middle of the hallway. Around Jarnen’s throat was a tie, ends lazily flapping in a breeze. Dumbledore frowned. How could they have died? Poison? Perhaps poison gas? But then why wasn’t anyone else affected? And why was Jarnen wearing a tie?

Dumbledore examined the bodies for some time before spotting a tiny piece of paper poking out of Jarnen’s pocket. With shaking fingers, he pulled out the paper and read the three words (two with the hyphen) written on it:

Self-tying tie

Of course! The tie around Jarnen’s neck must’ve strangled NK, then moved onto Jarnen himself. But how had he gotten ahold of one of these ties?

Perhaps, Dumbledore theorized, the murderer anonymously gave him the tie, and then, being Jarnen, he decided to play a prank on NK. Or perhaps recruit NK for a prank on someone else. Either way, the prank ended up killing both of them. Dumbledore sighed. He would have to go downstairs and break the news to the group. He was getting awfully sick of all these murders. The only highlight of the day was that Gracia had opted out of Voldemort’s group in favor of Dumbledore’s. Darkking had also requested to switch groups, so both groups had been shifted slightly. Both CBers had checked with Voldemort, too, to be certain that the switch was okay. He had whispered fiercely with them, but Dumbledore couldn’t hear what it was about.

It was likely just Voldemort warning them not to share his secrets, Dumbledore reassured himself. Nevertheless, he wasn’t too sure.

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws, Summer, Beverly, Jarnen, NK

You totally nailed me with the intense sobbing and rehearsed speeches… in fact, this post was a rehearsed speech. XD

Poor NK and Jarnen! Jarnen's last prank kind of backfired… wait. BackFIRED!! *nostalgiac sobs* 

Day Eight:

Arwen pulled a scroll from under her door and looked at it curiously. It was plain white with an apple-red seal and neat black handwriting addressing it to her, Leafpool, and Serene.

“Leafpool! Serene! There’s an envelope for you!” she called.

“Be there in a sec!”

“Hold on, I’m still in pajamas!”

Arwen sighed and decided to just open it already. She impatiently ripped open the seal and began to read the short message in a loud voice.

“Dear Leafpool, Serene, and Arwen,

“Please meet me in room 5C at 10:00. Tell no one. I promise this isn’t a trap.

“Noon.”

Still in her pajamas, Leafpool finally appeared in the doorway. “This sounds highly suspicious,” she said. “I don’t think we should go.”

“I disagree,” said Arwen petulantly. “I think that if there’s a chance of this being something useful, we should go.”

They both looked to the side, where Serene had just emerged from the bathroom. She glanced between them, her forehead furrowing in thought. The others stayed silent, waiting for her choice: the deciding vote in what had become a debate.

“I don’t know for sure, but I think we should go,” she began, interrupted by a yes! from Arwen. “I mean, Noon just lost Claaws. What’s the chance she’s the murderer? But we should maybe still be cautious?” She bit her lip and looked down, ending the discussion.

—

Darkking opened the door to 5C slowly, still unsure about whether this was the best idea. The four people already inside – Leafpool, Arwen, Serene, and Kat – leapt up immediately.

“Relax, guys, it’s only me,” he said. It didn’t calm them down much. Shaking his head, he plopped down into the nearest armchair. “Look, if any of us were the murderer, how would we be able to kill four other people before someone managed to raise the alarm? We gotta have trust.”

“Anyway,” said Kat, “The bigger issue is: where’s Noon?”

<here> said Noon, coming out of the bathroom apologetically. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, Noon, why did you invite us here?” asked Serene.

<find><kilr>

“How?”

“Why us?”

“Can’t Dumbledore do that for us?”

<weal><lost><smon> pointed out the CAPTCHA.

“So?” asked Darkking.

“Look, do you really think that anyone would have killed off their own companion before they absolutely had to?” pointed our Leafpool. “Besides, the six of us already have a grudge against the murderer. It makes sense to gather us together.”

Nodding gratefully, Noon flew over to a tripod in the corner and unrolled a long piece of parchment. Written in neat handwriting were the names of every guest.

“I think it’s Ella,” Kat said instantly.

Serene took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay? How about we proceed in a logical fashion and think about who might have been able to accomplish each murder?”

“Okay,” said Arwen, “Catsclaw was first. He was poisoned, right, so who could have poisoned him?”

“Pretty much everyone had access to the food. It could be anyone,” said Darkking.

“Next: Spiffycat and Emerald Frost. Again, anyone could have put the skull in their bedroom.”

The group proceeded down the list of murders, accomplishing nothing but making themselves sadder. That is, until they reached Harry and Beatrice.

“They were killed by Avada Kedavra, so it must have been by someone with a wand, which means it must have been a CBer,” pointed out Serene.

“Er,” said Leafpool. All eyes turned to her. She bit her lip, looking like she regretted making the sound.

<what?> asked Noon.

“Look, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this.”

“So?” said Arwen impatiently. “I tell people things that I shouldn’t all the time.”

“No, look, he said that if I told anyone, I would be killed!”

“He?” said three people at once. Leafpool sighed.

“Okay, fine, Voldemort gave Andrea, Sammy, and Yxek wands.” There was a sudden silence.

“Did he also teach you Avada Kedavra?” asked Asthene tentatively. Leafpool’s eyes darted around the room as if checking that everyone was trustworthy.

“Yes.”

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws, Summer, Beverly, Jarnen, NK

Day Nine:

Brandishing a dogwood wand, the murderer shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” As the walls crumbled around them, they grinned evilly. No one, they hoped, would suspect them after this.

—

Sammy stirred awake and decided to go down for breakfast. She ran down the stairs and entered the dining room, where she was surprised to see that she was the first one! Deciding to take full advantage of that opportunity, she helped herself to a huge platter of eggs, potatoes, and bacon. As she ate, more people began to arrive, until finally, everyone alive was gathered around tables, eating.

Everyone except one person.

“Where’s Ella?” Zeke asked. He looked around, only to see shrugs and puzzled glances from the other CBers.

“Let’s check her room,” Dumbledore suggested. He and Zeke hurried up the stairs and into Ella’s room. Zeke pointed out Ella’s bedroom, and they stepped inside.

Ella was nowhere to be seen. One of the walls of her bedroom had completely crumbled, scattering debris all over the floor. Dumbledore examined the wall gravely. “It appears that the murderer has killed Ella,” he announced. “This wall was destroyed with Avada Kedavra. Perhaps the murderer cast the spell once and missed, hitting the wall. Then, the second time, Ella wasn’t so lucky.”

“But what about the body? What happened to it?” Zeke asked. Dumbledore pursed his lips.

“Probably dragged off,” he answered.

“Oh, NO!” came a melodramatic wail from the doorway. The pair turned to see Andrea peering into the room. “Ella’s dead!” she screamed with feeling. This sent the rest of the group rushing up the stairs and into the room, where they stared with dismay at the crumbling wall. They tried to comfort Andrea, but she was not to be consoled.

Dumbledore scanned the gathered crowd, then was struck by an idea. “CBers, wands out, please,” he said. He ignored the companions, not realizing that Voldemort had given a few of them wands, and those companions didn’t follow his instruction, for fear of giving away Voldemort’s secrets. One by one, Dumbledore proceeded down the line of wands, tapping each one and murmuring an incantation. Each one, in turn, cast a spell. Some produced the effects of Lumos or Alohomora, a few Wingardium Leviosa or Summoning. One cast Protego with such force that Dumbledore leapt backward, startled. Another set the floor on fire with Incendio. (Dumbledore extinguished the fire, reminding the CBer sternly that Incendio was a dangerous spell and not to be used idly.) With a start, Zeke realized what Dumbledore was doing.

He was checking wands for the last spell they cast.

When Dumbledore reached the end of the line, not one CBer had cast Avada Kedavra, nor anything remotely dangerous (with the exception of Incendio). Zeke concluded that the murderer had cast another spell after killing Ella in order to cover up their tracks. Dumbledore evidently thought so too, for he sighed in defeat and dismissed those assembled with a waved hand. Zeke filed out on the tail end of the crowd.

—

Andrea was sitting in her bed, reading, when she heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called, and in trudged Sammy, her pajamas rumpled by sleep and her eyes showing evidence of tears.

“I miss Ella,” she sniffled. “If only I could magic her back to life with the wand Voldemort gave me. Don’t you miss her?” she asked in response to Andrea’s questioning gaze. Andrea shrugged.

“Not really. I mean, she was always bossing us around. She never gave us any freedom.”

Sammy was confused. “But–but you were so sad when you heard she’d been murdered! Remember?” Andrea shrugged again.

“I was mostly surprised, not sad. A lot of that was an act. It wouldn’t do any good for people to think I hated my CBer, you know?” She smiled and moved to hug Sammy, but the CAPTCHAE hung back in fright and raced from the room, unable to contain her roiling suspicions any longer. Andrea smiled and turned back to her reading.

Sammy leaned against the wall, breathing hard. She felt the urge to enter Zeke’s room down the hall, to confirm what she had just heard. But he would probably over-analyze the situation until he had exhausted the topic, at which point he would shoo her out of the room. He was no source of comfort to her.

Sammy bent down and placed her eye to the crack under Andrea’s door. The AE was smiling as she read on her Kindle, all thoughts of the conversation banished from her mind.

“What are you, really?” Sammy whispered. But there was no response.

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws, Summer, Beverly, Jarnen, NK, Ella Starburst

Day Ten:

The owner of the dogwood wand used to cast Avada Kedavra that fateful morning pulled a scroll from under her door. An invitation to meet with Voldemort, she read with trepidation. Why on Earth would Voldemort want to meet with her? It wasn’t as if she’d ever done anything bad. But, shaking her head, she left to meet with him, for Voldemort is not a person one can easily refuse.

—

“Tell me the truth,” said Voldemort. “Did you murder Ella Starburst?”

The girl gasped. “Absolutely not!”

“I don’t believe you,” said the evil wizard. He stared at her for a few long minutes, during which the girl fidgeted in her chair, kicked her feet, and eventually decided to trust him with a different answer.

“Okay, yes, I did.”

“I knew it. Stand up and come with me.”

She didn’t consider doing otherwise for even a moment. Walking slightly behind Voldy and trying not to step on his feet, the girl followed him into a room off of the area in which his group had learned the Unforgivable Curses. The walls of this room were lined with bottles containing death (some instant, some long and torturous, and some unlabeled. She didn’t want to think about what was in those.) The middle of the room, however, was empty and just the right size for two people to take up dueling stances, which is what they did.

Over the course of the day, Voldemort imparted hundreds of secrets of murder. The girl grew more and more uneasy as the day went on and she amassed more information she never would have expected to learn prior to this vacation. Eventually, the evil wizard glanced at a clock and sighed. 

“That seems to be all we have time for today,” he said. “Now, who do you want to kill next?” The girl hesitated, taken aback. “How about Zeke?” Voldemort suggested. “You must dislike him.” She nodded and began to make plans for his killing.

—

NatureWriter ate his enchilada casserole happily, excited that Dumbledore and Voldemort (though probably mostly Dumbledore) had researched their guests’ likes so thoroughly. The cooks here seemed to make it differently than his mom, though: it tasted like there was a bit more cilantro than usual, perhaps? But it didn't matter. He was vastly enjoying the dish, and it seemed that everyone else (also served some of their favorite foods) was as well. Perhaps too much, actually.

Zeke belched loudly and rubbed his stomach. “Must have eaten a bit too much,” he announced to the table in general. “I'm heading to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, like we care,” muttered Asthene.

At that moment, attendants came out bearing plates laden with dessert, and NatureWriter dug into the luscious chocolate cake in front of him. His stomach grumbled, and he paused to rub it. “I’m feeling a bit sick, too,” he told Yxek, being the type of kind and generous person who didn’t wish to bother other people with his issues, besides Yxek, seeing as Yxek had a perfectly good reason for knowing this information and caring about NatureWriter. This taken care of, he stood up and left for the bathroom. 

Rushing to get to the bathroom soon and feeling the discomfort in his belly growing, he didn’t realize he’d stepped on something until it flopped under his foot. Looking down, he gasped to see what – or whom – he had trod on. “Zeke was stabbed!” he yelled as loudly as he could. The rest of the vacationers immediately came running over. Their comments had only just begun – “How did he die?” “Who could have killed him?” “Maybe it was NatureWriter!” – when NatureWriter vomited.

“Ewww!” exclaimed Breeze.

<yuok?> asked Yxek concernedly.

“Ye- I’m not actually sure,” said NatureWriter. “My stomach still hurts.” He began to place his hand on his stomach, only to feel his arm spasm. “Er- my arm-” he started to say, but found that he could not. His body was going numb, he realized, and he began to fall backwards. He could dimly hear the upset voices of the surrounding CBers and companions trying to figure out what was going on and asking if anyone knew anything about poisons, but it was too late. The poison reached his heart, and slowly, painfully, his life faded away.

The murderer looked at the two bodies, a bit confused. They had only intended there to be one death tonight. Who would have wanted to kill Zeke? they wondered. It couldn’t have been- wait. What it if it was? What if… They grew angry as their plot changed before their eyes. They needed to do something about this imposter, this- this- fake murderer.

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws, Summer, Beverly, Jarnen, NK, Ella Starburst, Zeke, NatureWriter

Alive: Gracia, Soren, Levana, Yxek, Andrea, Sammy, Leafpool, Arwen, Serene, Kitten, Breeze, Darkking, Asthene, Leo, Noon, Kat

Um. Yes, I am one of the writers! I was very surprised that it took so long for me to get guessed, especially when I made the mistake of posting as Voldemort at the same time as I posted as myself. But none of the other people you guessed are my partner!

Also, and this is not to you, Leafy, but to Ella & co., do you really think that Dumbledore would murder people? I mean seriously?