Closed errand Plants Too pv

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	Pericles had arrived at the twilight years of his Hogwarts tenure. Perhaps realizing this was what spurred him into action; upperclassmen had a reputation for avoiding errands, being either too caught up in intensive studies, burnt out from years of volunteering, or decidedly "too old" to toil for house points. Yet when word went out of a mass planting task, it caught the sixth-year's ear. His first ever errand had been potting for a former herbology professor. Sentimentality won out: it was both in his interests and for a good cause. When classes concluded for the day, he headed to his room to swap school robes for a simpler outfit, something worn down and dark that he wouldn't worry about staining. However, he didn't get right into the dirt with the rest of his peers. The animagus launched out from Ravenclaw Tower, scouring the grounds with a literal eagle's-eye-view. His objective was more to tidy up any misplanted sprouts and help any who needed it along the way. A gaggle of overenthusiastic first-years had decided to race through a batch of ferns. Some were so shallow in the ground that they had toppled over when the eleven-year-olds left, bending their delicate fronds. Pericles took human form as he landed, wand already in hand, his only tool for the task. A carefully cast "Wingardium Leviosa" pulled the plant up in its entirety, to avoid putting strain on its juvenile roots, followed by a breathed "Orbis" which sank it deeper into the dirt. The process was repeated until each sat firm and level in the soil. Pear reassessed his handiwork with care, then took wing once more. It was a simple enough chore to keep him occupied for an afternoon. At this hour, he would have typically been studying or flying with friends, but both tests and the Racing season were behind them. This quiet task afforded him time to reflect. Pericles was content to work alone, his silence only broken by the occasional "Herbivicus" to give each sprout a better chance at taking to new soil and surviving. This routine was broken by the sight of a fellow Ravenclaw racer. Brookline Quinn was hard at work below, her unkempt hair and dirt-smeared skin adding an endearingly youthful quality to her otherwise put-together look. The eagle chirped as it swooped in for a landing so as not to startle her. Pear typically came and went from training- and just about everywhere else- via his animagus form. His shift back was well practiced, from a flying bird to a boy landing on both boots with a quiet thump against the grass. He sported his trademark sleepy smile and mellow voice as he called: "Hullo Brook. Keeping hydrated?" His hand dipped into his satchel and produced a sealed water jar, which he held out encouragingly. Among the many tools in the pureblood's arsenal, tumblers apparently didn't feature.
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| @Brookline Quinn |

ℬrookline smiled as she used the garden trove to create a indent in the warm dirt. Taking a little seedling, which was a little wilted, and carefully lowered the plant in the hole. She picked up some damp soil in her hands, and filled the hole. As the young girl patted the soil around the droopy plant, she hummed a little song she’d remembered her grand-mum used to sing. She forgot all her rough days, all the voices, all the nightmares, everything. That’s all you need sometimes, she realized, fresh air.

“Hmm. You poor thing. Why are you so droopy?” She’d whispered to the plant, her brow knit in confusion, as she drew out her wand from her robes that were set aside, and “Do you need water? Or what is it you need? Why can’t you talk like a normal regular fellow? Oh, don’t get me wrong, all of you plants are wondeful. I just wish you could talk. Because how else am I supposed to help you if you can’t tell me what’s wrong?” Brookline tilted her head at the plant, and racked her brain for water spells. She couldn’t remember.

Brookline was in the middle searching her brain for a water spell, as she multitask, planting the little sprouts as she hummed her grand-mum’s quaint song. Then, she heard a unexpected chirp. The girl almost dropped the little plantlet and she gasped softly, her humming abruptly cut off just as her head lifting up to see a sea eagle. “Merlin!” She exclaimed as the eagle shifted into a boy. Pericles. She knew her fellow teammate was a Animagus, but it was awe-inspiring to see a winged creature shift back into a person.

“Hi, Peri!” She scrambled up onto her feet, and started frantically brushing the dirt off her trousers. As much as Peri was a friend, Brookline didn’t want people to see filth all over her. That would be the worst thing, ever. She hated when her clothes were layered with grime and filth. She plastered a bright smile on her face, her voice cheerful, “How have you been? Ever since our last race, I’ve been seeing less and less of the team.”

Pericles’ arm stretched out towards her with a water jar in his hand. Brookline lightly shook her head, “I’m good. It’s not too hot. Just waiting for the right breeze.” She glanced up to the sky, shielding her dark blue eyes with her hand, and her forehead felt the harsh roughness of her glove.