Deus Dunleavy Deres looked, well, ridiculous. He had on a gigantic black velvet cape that seemed to move with a wind of its own, billowing from his shoulders and swirling menacingly around his ankles. He had on a hat reminiscent of what Napoleon might have once worn, complete with an absurdly ostentatious peacock feather that whacked people in the face as he turned, and his wand was elongated like a cane as he stomped dramatically and pompously around the room. It went well with the warpaint, smeared on his cheeks and currently being passed around like a badge of armor.

"Ye 'ave been summoned today 'cause ye've been deemed wort'y tae take part in welcomin' our guests. 'Tis no wee task. 'Tis one of great import, great daring, great danger. If ye cannae or arenae willin' tae brave th' risks," He smiled, and it wasn't just because of his getup that he looked a little evil, "Get out."

"Tattlin' won't be tolerated." His smile went from cunning and charming to downright nasty, like a switch had been flicked, and the scars on his arms and shoulders suddenly seemed a bit more ominous than a second ago, and he let the words hang in silence for a moment before his smile was suddenly easy and mellow again. "This jes be a…an inter'ouse unity event. NOW. There be three targets."

"TASKFORCE TEAM NIFFLER-- Ye will be in charge of dorm infiltration. Our sources—" He nodded to the House Elf tied to a stool in the corner who squeaked in dismay.

"Can Blinken go back to cleaning now, sir?"

"NO!" Deus boomed turning on his heel dramatically, even as some alarmed Hufflepuff immediately untied the poor creature, mumbling profuse apologies as he disappeared with a pained expression and quick crack!. "Insubordination!" Deus roared. "Ah'll let it pass," he said with a regal sniff. "Cannae spare th' men tae flog ye. Now as Ah was sayin'. Team Niffler, our sources 'ave located th' Beauxbatons dorm—" A gigantic map of Hogwarts unrolled itself with a perfunctory snckt, and a blue splotch of ink appeared in the eastern tower, "Here. Pi]assword be 'oiseau bleu'. Ye'll be enchantin' th' pillows wit' Mustaciu." He performed the spell on a nearby pillow, a quick swish and flick and a few sparks of green-grey that disappeared into the pillow. He laid his head down and immediately sprouted a large, curly, villainous mustache on his upper lip. He straightened and began to twirl it with a wicked eyebrow raised.

"FLOBBERWORM FIVE—ye're targets pretty easy. Jes go make the Dragodirigible pink. Donnae care how. Jes donnae get caught. And finally, MAD MYRTLES—ye 'ave Durmstrang." He paused in his pacing to eye the group with a wild, fierce expression. "Th' laundry is 'ere." A splotch appeared on the map as it rippled self-importantly. "Th' House Elves will 'ave th' Durmstrang laundry by t'ree in th' morning, back in th' hands o' our guests by t'ree-t'irty. Time is of th' essence. I expect masterpieces."

"Now." He straightened, beaming proudly at his assembled team. "These be preliminary t'oughts. Ye got ideas, speak up. Either way, we go in tae action as soon as we're done 'ere."

"Questions?" He growled.

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_{OOC: Team names are negotiable. As are each individual Operation name, to be decided by Team Captains. If you'd like to be Team Captain for a taskforce, post HERE and be prepared to lead your team to GLORY!}

Huck was on board for anything Deus planned. Ever. At all times. Deus could have passed him a note during class that said "let's go stick our faces in the girls' toilets" and Huck would have leapt up from his seat without another thought.

It was, as such, that he found himself standing formidably near the front of the crowd, standing off to the side and cracking his (still black-and-blue) knuckles. He noticed that his knuckles popped considerably more these days than they had in the past, and after his run-in the previous month he had more bones popping and loose than staying in place.

Huck's face, as well, was still a mishmash of bruises, petechiae, and general not-right-ness. The gash across the bridge of his nose had not healed well at all, and though he supposed it made him look tougher he still mourned the marred surface of his once-pristine face.

He had come dressed to kill, and was dressed in a manner not unlike John Rambo, complete with a ragged red bandanna tied around his forehead. And he had made it his duty to stand menacingly and crack his knuckles and point at the crowd during some of Deus's key points.

When his friend asked for questions, Huck raised his hand but did not wait to be called on. "Yeh mate, where do I pick up me grenades? I was told there would be firearms distributed."

Sophie was in attendance, why wouldn't she be? It was Deus after all, and mischief - over the summer she had decided those might be her two favorite thing melded into her single favorite person. Of course she was also maybe there to keep an eye on things to make sure he didn't get himself expelled. She might have only been his pretend wife, but for whatever reason she had decided to have a vested interest in his future as a human being. It was more than fool headed, she knew that - the same way she had known if her timing hadn't been perfect in that shop that fateful day in July he'd have left her to the wolves.

Sophie never could stay far away from things people thought were bad for her. Besides, the idea of those pretty little French faces with such lush villainous mustaches was fairly priceless, though she found herself mutter to Huxley, "What is it with him and facial hair? Is this some fetish I should be made aware of? Seriously, did you see what he did to my favorite shoe"? Of course there had also been the bunny incident in her closet. That might be something to keep in the vault when the others retaliated. She didn't know about the French (they weren't known for waging wars), but the Americans... well it could get ugly.

She threw an arched eyebrow look to Huck and shook her head, "Can we at least wait until after the first week of lessons before you start trying to blow people up? I realize you feel the need for heavy artillery on account of how girls can apparently kick your ass now, Lovey, but really. Violence is for knuckle draggers. Why be barbaric when we've got wit in greater measure on our side," she fluttered her eyelashes and she posed the question, glancing around the room, lowering her voice, tone a little scolding but mostly teasing, "Stop cracking your joints. You'll have hag hands by the time you're twenty".

Next to Huck, Gracie stood, legs set slightly further apart than usual and hands clasped loosely behind. She gave that petite Gryffindor a quick grin. “Nothing a potion or paste won’t solve,” she said, before eyes darted to the side and the grin turned sly. “Maybe.”

But whether he caught the look or not didn’t matter, because just as quickly eyes slid away. . . in case anyone—particularly Deus—caught it lingering on that mess of bruises.

“Sudden fetishes aside,” she drawled, clearly amused, “I’ve gotta say, Deres, this plan o’ yours sounds a little simpler than your usual fare. Dare I ask what you would do if it all goes to hell? Durmstrang in particular seems like it could be quite nasty, you heard what their headmaster sounds like…” A lot of arse, in her private opinion, but that wasn’t the point. While she knew that headmasters weren’t necessarily the ‘if’ to their own students ‘then,’ the school seemed militant enough to be an exception. They had the benefit of an openly Dark Arts-permissible education, too. Hogwarts, well, didn’t.

Which wasn’t to say that the other two schools wouldn’t be any less vindictive, either.

“A girl’s got t’ be careful,” she would shrug in her defense, in case anyone would accuse her of flubbing out. “My granddad taught me that if you don’t cover all your bases, you lose.” And lazy though she might be, loser she wasn’t.

As if to prove that point, she—all dressed up in skinnies, boots, and a slightly oversized sweater she had charmed to black and silence—gave Deus a quiet little smile.

"Grenades...have nae been supplied." Deus nodded. "But their creation is encouraged."  Now there was an idea, wasn't there? Potion grenades with a transfiguration spell weaved in. Chuck 'em in the dorms and see what got turned into toads...but that train of thought was interrupted by Sophie addressing Huck about waiting to blow things up, which earned the derisive scoff it deserved. And give their guests time to get comfortably? Never!

But if there was a core defining trait of Deus Deres, it was this—

He was lazy.

Oh, maybe not really, but he certainly was a minimal effort sort of fellow. And while he was prone to occasional bursts of energy, they wore off quickly. He had a reputation to maintain, despite his plans for the year.

"Ye're absolutely right," He said with a winning smile to Gracie. "But...nae me, sweet'eart. Ah'm just the morale leader, 'ere. " There was a twitch of his hands and a whispered spell and his mustache disappeared. He reached up and grabbed his monstrosity of a hat and swung it off dramatically, plopping it down on Gracie's head instead. He yawned hugely, shooed a crop of second years off a couch and flopped down on it. "My advice? Donnae get caught." He closed his eyes and settled into the couch. "Ah've done my work. Y'all have fun, now." 

And then, to all appearances, Deus went to sleep and left the rest of the planning to his Generals.

"Madame Flickwick and Miss Red Queen has an excellent point," Erik casually intercepted the hat the older Slytherin passed off, after the older (presumably Slytherin) girl, made her doubts known. The Gryffindor had no idea what her name was, but she seemed rightly capable of ordering beheading like the rest of the 6th year girls who populated Salazaar's house, "We really should think about this for a minute."

With his lopsided grin plastered on his face as per usual, Erik spun the hat on top of his had before giving a flick of his wand, changing its color to a pleasant plum, "I mean, Salem's already purple, are they really going to throw a fuss over a pink--" another flick of his wand and the hat was pink, "dragon-blimp?"

Then the second year took the hat and plopped it on the Slytherin girl's head again, "Now pink, with a menagerie of blue fleur de lis," Erik cast the spell again and then a blue swirl of ostentatious and decorative designs flooded the hat as he crossed his arms and leaned back proudly, "and maybe add some lace and frills on the side... could do the trick--two birds with one stone."

"This way we could not only implicate our French friends, but make them proud too," he gave a ridiculous and wavey gesture towards the hat before finally adding, "Or they will either be so critical of the whole thing, or so abashed by it that they will just have to show it up, and the Americans' first choice, probably regardless of whether they did it or not, would be to go after Beauxbatons--et voila!" Erik shrugged his hands out to his sides with a content look on his face, "Magic and mayhem."

"The real trick is getting Durmstrang into it all," he hopped up and down happily, despite having absolutely no idea on how to prank their neighbors from the north; but Erik was sure he could find a way to push their buttons, with time.

Casey was beginning to wonder why he had bothered coming. The chance to shake up the newcomers from the tournament before they got stilled, that had perked his ears with curiosity. It would be a marvel to get all the students aligned in a task like this, although Slytherin was in high attendance...the back-stabbing, friendly-enemies, snake pit that was Slytherin. If you didn't define a target for them they started striking each other.

It wasn't that he hated Deus. Dues was a sleazy, no good instigator that had earned the ability to be cruel unlike many in the house. Casey could respect some of that. But he considered Deus sloppy, it must come from living in that backwater hovel of his where smelly people slipped poisons into the food and under the border.

For one thing: let anybody order a house elf about and it massively inflated his ego. It was a wonder Deus did have his blown at any moment, he was as egotistical as anyone several classes higher than him. That was actually more sloppy on the school's part for the geas of elves. Since they served the school, it was apparently loose enough where they bent over backwards for any student. You wouldn't find a O'Doherty elf shirking duty for anybody else with a commanding voice.

Casey decided to speak the other thought on his mind. "How honorable, Deres, spectacular idea to hit the foreigners where it hurts and no follow thru. I was wondering if you where thinking of how to cover your tracks but obviously you just want to distance yourself should things go wrong. Frankly, it doesn't leave much to avoid snitching."

"And you have second years that plan better than you," he said, gesturing to Collin-whoever. "Why not have people like that lead instead." It wasn't a question.