Definitely Not Trespassing
@Jo Morgan @Solomon Lear
Usually, Rafa would have been amused by the whole situation – actually not fighting with his Hogwarts Rival. But the feeling didn’t seem right given the situation. It seemed as Jo had held the same mindset as himself – she, too, had felt something wrong with the school, and needed answers. At least, that’s what she told him. He knew well enough to trust Jo with this. She was a slippery one sometimes, but only in the right situations. But cunningness was not at all necessary now.
At the moment, it seemed as if something had caught her eye. Rafa deftly stood up, making sure the Greg was comfortable in his hands, and quickly followed her. That’s when he noticed the bits of white, all strewn across the fireplace. Jo was digging around them rather messily, but Rafa didn’t really feel like poking fun at her right now. Especially after she picked up a little skull out of the ashes – she held it up to the little creature in his hands, and his stomach began to pool with dread.
“It’s a pygmy puff skull,” he muttered to himself, audibly enough to be heard. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips in a tight frown. This was so wrong. It seemed there was more than one, too. This left Rafa to wonder if the Greg in his hands was really the last one.
He noticed that Jo had begun to dig around in the chimney, looking for clues. Rafa, instead, opted to analyze the chimney from the outside. He noticed the ash was particularly thick – an idea soon came to him. “D’you think Floo could have been involved?” It was a simple question, in which he was rather curious.
Having lost his attention for the fireplace, he began to traipse across the room. It was a bit clean, but Rafa was feeling rather mysterious today, and all. He began to rummage around in Lear’s desk, seeing if he could find any particular papers, trinkets, DNA, imperfections, or anything mysterious or incriminating in general. If Lear were to walk in he would surely be offended by the blunt invasion of privacy. But, given that he wasn’t present, the old man would have to suck it up.
After looking in the desk, he began to walk around it, looking for imperfections. He knelt down the front. It was then he noticed these two seams – he ran his fingers across the one closest to him, his lip bit in thought. Seams weren’t typically found in desk. He felt as if he were missing something, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Hey, Jo, would you come look at this?” he asked the girl at the fireplace. He couldn’t be sure that she had found anything yet, but he was definitely curious to see what her take on this was.
Usually, Rafa would have been amused by the whole situation – actually not fighting with his Hogwarts Rival. But the feeling didn’t seem right given the situation. It seemed as Jo had held the same mindset as himself – she, too, had felt something wrong with the school, and needed answers. At least, that’s what she told him. He knew well enough to trust Jo with this. She was a slippery one sometimes, but only in the right situations. But cunningness was not at all necessary now.
At the moment, it seemed as if something had caught her eye. Rafa deftly stood up, making sure the Greg was comfortable in his hands, and quickly followed her. That’s when he noticed the bits of white, all strewn across the fireplace. Jo was digging around them rather messily, but Rafa didn’t really feel like poking fun at her right now. Especially after she picked up a little skull out of the ashes – she held it up to the little creature in his hands, and his stomach began to pool with dread.
“It’s a pygmy puff skull,” he muttered to himself, audibly enough to be heard. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips in a tight frown. This was so wrong. It seemed there was more than one, too. This left Rafa to wonder if the Greg in his hands was really the last one.
He noticed that Jo had begun to dig around in the chimney, looking for clues. Rafa, instead, opted to analyze the chimney from the outside. He noticed the ash was particularly thick – an idea soon came to him. “D’you think Floo could have been involved?” It was a simple question, in which he was rather curious.
Having lost his attention for the fireplace, he began to traipse across the room. It was a bit clean, but Rafa was feeling rather mysterious today, and all. He began to rummage around in Lear’s desk, seeing if he could find any particular papers, trinkets, DNA, imperfections, or anything mysterious or incriminating in general. If Lear were to walk in he would surely be offended by the blunt invasion of privacy. But, given that he wasn’t present, the old man would have to suck it up.
After looking in the desk, he began to walk around it, looking for imperfections. He knelt down the front. It was then he noticed these two seams – he ran his fingers across the one closest to him, his lip bit in thought. Seams weren’t typically found in desk. He felt as if he were missing something, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Hey, Jo, would you come look at this?” he asked the girl at the fireplace. He couldn’t be sure that she had found anything yet, but he was definitely curious to see what her take on this was.
Searching desk for papers and connections.Action
Examining outside of desk.
Last edited by Rafael Waincroft on 19 Jun 2020, 06:03, edited 1 time in total.
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
Definitely Not Trespassing
Rafa was right about one thing - Lear would probably never find out. The office that was most often occupied by the Headmaster was left barren, less a single curious girl that was snopping about. The young man would make a dive for the fleeing Greg, one of the last steadfast guardians of this office space who right then appeared to be fleeing in terror. Ragged and thin, the pitiful creature that was trapped in his cupped hands. The little creature would try, the operative word being 'try' to bite the Gryffindor's hands and escape. Its tiny mouth woefully insufficient. Its true might in his lengthy, prodding tongue that would wander up errant children's nostrils, ears and belly buttons.
Panicked, it would squeal. Did Pygmy Puffs cry? It was a rare, terrible noise.
"You're okay, Greg"
Rafael tried to soothe as it tried to scurry to freedom. Its tiny nails not large enough to serve as claws, the creature was completely defenseless. It squimmed as the boy patted its back. The fur was partially matted, there were a few bald spots as well.
He would notice Jo Morgan, a girl he shared a copmmon room with. Someone he might have known casually or more intimately depending on the circles both traveled.
His interrogation was brief -- what was she doing there? Where wasthe body Lear. The girl was there for similar reasons as Rafael. She had no clue where the headmaster was, so she (like him) had decided that snopping was the most prudent course of action.
Jo would notice something off about the fireplace. Strange bits mixed in with the ash. The Greg was trembling in Rafa's palms, no longer trying to escape. Jo would poke her head into the chimmney, the wide shaft appeared to be normal, albiet covered in soot.
"It is a pygmy puff skull," Rafael identified. That would explain the distressed creature in the pre-teen's hands. Something terrible had happened to poor Greg's brothers and friends.
"D'you think Floo could have been involved?"
He asked. A good question, it was one of the few fireplaces in Hogwarts that was connected to the floo network but it did not freely allow travel that often. Security concerns and the like. Would the headmaster have used the same fireplace that incinerated his pets to travel someplace outside of Hogwarts? If so where? The Floo netword was monitored and regulated. If someone entered (or left) through that fireplace, there would be someone that knew.
As for young Rafa, he would interest himself with the Professor's desk. Not particularly ornamental considering the other wonders in this great space that were displayed in glass cabinets under a basic lock and key. The desk itself, a tiny hair-like seam down the center was otherwise in perfect, gleaming condition. An inkwell and a quill in its holder sat as if in waiting on the desk. A small bit of wax and a brass stamp.
He would find something queer, that seam ran through the desk, circumscribing the center of the desk. When he put weight on the desk it would break in half. Perfectly sliced down the middle. As if a great saw had been in here and had cut the desk in half. Once the weight of the boy's curious, prodding fingers had vacated, the desk would slowly lift itself back up as if each had had a hidden magnet that attracted the two halves together.
The halves of the desk would perfectly fit back together, side by side. Still fractured down the center the slice was near in-discernable. The ink and the quill which hag both fallen onto the floor would slide back into place as if they were being pulled back by a set of invisible strings.
It was then that an owl would enter the office. A very small owl, an Elf Owl, (Micrathene whitneyi). One of the smallest full-grown owls either of them would ever see. About the size of a sparrow it came with a burden larger than the avian creature that carried it, a scroll. The scroll was tightly bound with a gilded string and a tassel. Sealed closed with a crimson wax seal.
The tiny owl would discard the message onto the desk and then dart for the fireplace once again.
Panicked, it would squeal. Did Pygmy Puffs cry? It was a rare, terrible noise.
"You're okay, Greg"
Rafael tried to soothe as it tried to scurry to freedom. Its tiny nails not large enough to serve as claws, the creature was completely defenseless. It squimmed as the boy patted its back. The fur was partially matted, there were a few bald spots as well.
He would notice Jo Morgan, a girl he shared a copmmon room with. Someone he might have known casually or more intimately depending on the circles both traveled.
His interrogation was brief -- what was she doing there? Where was
Jo would notice something off about the fireplace. Strange bits mixed in with the ash. The Greg was trembling in Rafa's palms, no longer trying to escape. Jo would poke her head into the chimmney, the wide shaft appeared to be normal, albiet covered in soot.
"It is a pygmy puff skull," Rafael identified. That would explain the distressed creature in the pre-teen's hands. Something terrible had happened to poor Greg's brothers and friends.
"D'you think Floo could have been involved?"
He asked. A good question, it was one of the few fireplaces in Hogwarts that was connected to the floo network but it did not freely allow travel that often. Security concerns and the like. Would the headmaster have used the same fireplace that incinerated his pets to travel someplace outside of Hogwarts? If so where? The Floo netword was monitored and regulated. If someone entered (or left) through that fireplace, there would be someone that knew.
As for young Rafa, he would interest himself with the Professor's desk. Not particularly ornamental considering the other wonders in this great space that were displayed in glass cabinets under a basic lock and key. The desk itself, a tiny hair-like seam down the center was otherwise in perfect, gleaming condition. An inkwell and a quill in its holder sat as if in waiting on the desk. A small bit of wax and a brass stamp.
He would find something queer, that seam ran through the desk, circumscribing the center of the desk. When he put weight on the desk it would break in half. Perfectly sliced down the middle. As if a great saw had been in here and had cut the desk in half. Once the weight of the boy's curious, prodding fingers had vacated, the desk would slowly lift itself back up as if each had had a hidden magnet that attracted the two halves together.
The halves of the desk would perfectly fit back together, side by side. Still fractured down the center the slice was near in-discernable. The ink and the quill which hag both fallen onto the floor would slide back into place as if they were being pulled back by a set of invisible strings.
It was then that an owl would enter the office. A very small owl, an Elf Owl, (Micrathene whitneyi). One of the smallest full-grown owls either of them would ever see. About the size of a sparrow it came with a burden larger than the avian creature that carried it, a scroll. The scroll was tightly bound with a gilded string and a tassel. Sealed closed with a crimson wax seal.
The tiny owl would discard the message onto the desk and then dart for the fireplace once again.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Solomon Lear @Rafael D'Spacito
Jo sighed, pulling her soot-covered head out of the chimney in defeat. She hadn’t found anything unusual - no bodies stuffed up the chimney like in all of the schlocky horror films she’s seen.
She bit her lip, frowning. Jo certainly wasn’t a fan of the colorful creatures, but it took a truly rotten person to ever think about hurting one of them.
Suddenly two mysteries collided together in her brain. It was only logical - the incidents had to be connected in some strange way.
Hey, do you think this might have something to do with Harry Potter and Umbridge? Wasn’t Mr. Potter at Hogwarts when he killed Umbridge? I’m worried that Headmaster Lear could have gotten mixed up in the case. Maybe... Maybe Headmaster Lear saw something or heard something, and Harry Potter or whoever killed Umbridge tried to make sure he couldn’t testify? Hmm... I wonder if a pensive can be used to extract animal memories as well? That would serve as a motive for killing the Pygmy Puffs, right?
Although she was certainly enthralled by the idea of a mysterious desk that perhaps led to a secret chamber or was a portkey itself, Jo couldn’t come up with a satisfactory explanation at the moment no matter how much she wracked her brains.
Quietly deciding to leave that mystery up to Rafa unless she was directly asked, she inspected the brass stamp to see if red blotches on the back were visible - these would indicate if the stamp had been used recently or cleaned/polished.
The girl let out a yell as the owl entered, instinctively ripping out her wand and brandishing it. A bit embarrassed, her cheeks flushed - it was only a cute little birdie with a letter for the Headmaster.
The owl, which couldn’t have been larger than 15 centimeters tall, plopped the parchment onto Headmaster Lear’s desk and promptly flew back out the window, unresponsive to the horrific chittering sounds Jo was making to gain its affection. The frustrated witch stuck out her lower lip and audibly sucked in some air. Safe to say it was better to leave the animal handling to Rafa next time.
Jo stared at the letter - her mind already made up as to what to do with it. She looked towards Rafa, wondering if he was thinking the same thing.
It’s a letter for the Headmaster... she said.
So it’s probably secret...
So that means we probably shouldn’t open it.
She stared emotionlessly at Rafa for a few seconds before shouting Dibs! as she rushed towards the scroll.
She ripped off the wax seal and pushed the letter into Rafa’s hands.
Can you read it aloud?
She asked, inspecting the seal for an initial, crest, or emblem that could identify the scroll’s author.
Jo sighed, pulling her soot-covered head out of the chimney in defeat. She hadn’t found anything unusual - no bodies stuffed up the chimney like in all of the schlocky horror films she’s seen.
I absolutely think so. Maybe the Pygmy puffs tried to follow him somewhere by Floo but got burned instead. That’s so weird... Headmaster Lear loves magical creatures- I’m sure he’d never be careless like that! My guess, then, is that there were other people in Headmaster’s office. Someone who did this to the puffs.“D’you think Floo could have been involved?”
She bit her lip, frowning. Jo certainly wasn’t a fan of the colorful creatures, but it took a truly rotten person to ever think about hurting one of them.
The Gryffindor wandered over as Rafa called her - she could really do with some help, since the fireplace was currently a dead end.“Hey, Jo, would you come look at this?”
Suddenly two mysteries collided together in her brain. It was only logical - the incidents had to be connected in some strange way.
Hey, do you think this might have something to do with Harry Potter and Umbridge? Wasn’t Mr. Potter at Hogwarts when he killed Umbridge? I’m worried that Headmaster Lear could have gotten mixed up in the case. Maybe... Maybe Headmaster Lear saw something or heard something, and Harry Potter or whoever killed Umbridge tried to make sure he couldn’t testify? Hmm... I wonder if a pensive can be used to extract animal memories as well? That would serve as a motive for killing the Pygmy Puffs, right?
Although she was certainly enthralled by the idea of a mysterious desk that perhaps led to a secret chamber or was a portkey itself, Jo couldn’t come up with a satisfactory explanation at the moment no matter how much she wracked her brains.
Quietly deciding to leave that mystery up to Rafa unless she was directly asked, she inspected the brass stamp to see if red blotches on the back were visible - these would indicate if the stamp had been used recently or cleaned/polished.
The girl let out a yell as the owl entered, instinctively ripping out her wand and brandishing it. A bit embarrassed, her cheeks flushed - it was only a cute little birdie with a letter for the Headmaster.
The owl, which couldn’t have been larger than 15 centimeters tall, plopped the parchment onto Headmaster Lear’s desk and promptly flew back out the window, unresponsive to the horrific chittering sounds Jo was making to gain its affection. The frustrated witch stuck out her lower lip and audibly sucked in some air. Safe to say it was better to leave the animal handling to Rafa next time.
Jo stared at the letter - her mind already made up as to what to do with it. She looked towards Rafa, wondering if he was thinking the same thing.
It’s a letter for the Headmaster... she said.
So it’s probably secret...
So that means we probably shouldn’t open it.
She stared emotionlessly at Rafa for a few seconds before shouting Dibs! as she rushed towards the scroll.
She ripped off the wax seal and pushed the letter into Rafa’s hands.
Can you read it aloud?
She asked, inspecting the seal for an initial, crest, or emblem that could identify the scroll’s author.
Action: Inspect stamp and seal.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Jo Morgan @Solomon Lear
[font=Segoe Print] Jo seemed to have noticed his explorations, as she decided to pay him a visit on his side of the room.
He must have looked deep in thought, the most quizzical look on his face – desks just didn’t have seems. The sight of the little line gave him a sick feeling, as if he were missing something huge. It’s a line, he reasoned with himself. Hell, it’s not a corpse. Calm the fuck down. His conscience didn’t seem the happiest with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much about the twisting in his stomach. Not right now, when he was on the verge of a major discovery.
“Hey, do you think this might have something to do with Harry Potter and Umbridge?” Jo wondered out-of-the-blue, crashing his train of thought. “Wasn’t Mr. Potter at Hogwarts when he killed Umbridge? I’m worried that Headmaster Lear could have gotten mixed up in the case. Maybe... Maybe Headmaster Lear saw something or heard something, and Harry Potter or whoever killed Umbridge tried to make sure he couldn’t testify?"
It was definitely a rather intriguing thought – and an excellent theory. Rafa bit his lip, thinking about this – it was more than obvious that something had gone wrong in the room. And, if no one knew where the Headmaster was, then something must have happened with him – right? I mean, crimes always start with mysterious disappearances. The worst ones, anyways. This was his reasoning, at least. This whole situation gave him a creeping feeling, one he didn’t like in the least.
“Hmm...” she continued thoughtfully. “I wonder if a pensieve can be used to extract animal memories as well? That would serve as a motive for killing the Pygmy Puffs, right?”
“Hmm, yeah,” he muttered absentmindedly, still examining the desk carefully. He ran his right hand along the seam in interest, clutching the pygmy puff in his other hand safely. It was then he realized that the seam had run completely through the desk. “Hey, Jo, look at this.” he mumbled, standing up to get a better look. His fingers landed on the seam again, and he put some pressure on it, the idea to get his nails between it.
It was in that moment that the desk split clean in half.
Now, Rafa was a rather brave boy. He had gotten into fights with adults, and done things that would make some people’s skin absolutely crawl. But he had never been fond of jump-scares. They had been one of the only things that could startle him. At the sight of the sudden deconstruction of the desk, he completely panicked - he must have jumped three feet in the air, his adrenaline running full-speed. “Mierda!” he had yelped out of pure reflexes, his hands immediately retracting from the desk as fast as humanly possible.
It took him a moment, but eventually, his mind came to terms with the fact that nothing terrible or life-threatening had happened. His shoulders relaxed, a serious look coming over his face. The look, however, was only to mask his only growing embarrassment. He was sure nothing could have masked the redness in his cheeks. Deciding not to say anything about the matter and go on as if nothing had happened, he tentatively stepped back towards the desk. It was rather strange, how the corners of the desk drew together, as if magnetized.
I wonder what the cause of this is, he wondered. A thought suddenly came to him, and being the impulsive boy that he was, acted on it without much more reasoning. In one quick movement, he shoved his foot into the seam as hard as he could, separating the two halves of the desk once more. Then, he slipped inside, wedging himself in between them as to prevent them from welding together again. He took a moment to examine the inside of the desk, looking for any clues that could lead to the Lear’s disappearance of the source of this strange magic.
He hadn’t even noticed the bird that had flown into the room. He had been busy looking for clues. At the sound of Jo’s voice – ‘Dibs!’, she had yelled – he jumped again, nearly dropping the poor Greg. “Hell,” he told her a bit angrily, “Would you stop doing that? I’m already jumpy as it is!” Then he thought about her words. “Dibs?” he wondered. “On what?” Jesus Christ, girls were confusing.
He hadn’t even noticed the scroll in her hand, a rather professional look about it – it had a seal and all. She had ripped it off without a care, before shoving the note in his hands. “Can you read it aloud?” she asked him.
Still sat between the desk, his back against one half and his feet against the other, he didn’t really feel at the best position to do this. But he still hadn’t turned down a challenge in his life. “Fine,” he relented. Still holding Greg carefully in one hand, he took the letter out with his teeth and dropped it into his hand. “It says..”[/font]
[font=Segoe Print] Jo seemed to have noticed his explorations, as she decided to pay him a visit on his side of the room.
He must have looked deep in thought, the most quizzical look on his face – desks just didn’t have seems. The sight of the little line gave him a sick feeling, as if he were missing something huge. It’s a line, he reasoned with himself. Hell, it’s not a corpse. Calm the fuck down. His conscience didn’t seem the happiest with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much about the twisting in his stomach. Not right now, when he was on the verge of a major discovery.
“Hey, do you think this might have something to do with Harry Potter and Umbridge?” Jo wondered out-of-the-blue, crashing his train of thought. “Wasn’t Mr. Potter at Hogwarts when he killed Umbridge? I’m worried that Headmaster Lear could have gotten mixed up in the case. Maybe... Maybe Headmaster Lear saw something or heard something, and Harry Potter or whoever killed Umbridge tried to make sure he couldn’t testify?"
It was definitely a rather intriguing thought – and an excellent theory. Rafa bit his lip, thinking about this – it was more than obvious that something had gone wrong in the room. And, if no one knew where the Headmaster was, then something must have happened with him – right? I mean, crimes always start with mysterious disappearances. The worst ones, anyways. This was his reasoning, at least. This whole situation gave him a creeping feeling, one he didn’t like in the least.
“Hmm...” she continued thoughtfully. “I wonder if a pensieve can be used to extract animal memories as well? That would serve as a motive for killing the Pygmy Puffs, right?”
“Hmm, yeah,” he muttered absentmindedly, still examining the desk carefully. He ran his right hand along the seam in interest, clutching the pygmy puff in his other hand safely. It was then he realized that the seam had run completely through the desk. “Hey, Jo, look at this.” he mumbled, standing up to get a better look. His fingers landed on the seam again, and he put some pressure on it, the idea to get his nails between it.
It was in that moment that the desk split clean in half.
Now, Rafa was a rather brave boy. He had gotten into fights with adults, and done things that would make some people’s skin absolutely crawl. But he had never been fond of jump-scares. They had been one of the only things that could startle him. At the sight of the sudden deconstruction of the desk, he completely panicked - he must have jumped three feet in the air, his adrenaline running full-speed. “Mierda!” he had yelped out of pure reflexes, his hands immediately retracting from the desk as fast as humanly possible.
It took him a moment, but eventually, his mind came to terms with the fact that nothing terrible or life-threatening had happened. His shoulders relaxed, a serious look coming over his face. The look, however, was only to mask his only growing embarrassment. He was sure nothing could have masked the redness in his cheeks. Deciding not to say anything about the matter and go on as if nothing had happened, he tentatively stepped back towards the desk. It was rather strange, how the corners of the desk drew together, as if magnetized.
I wonder what the cause of this is, he wondered. A thought suddenly came to him, and being the impulsive boy that he was, acted on it without much more reasoning. In one quick movement, he shoved his foot into the seam as hard as he could, separating the two halves of the desk once more. Then, he slipped inside, wedging himself in between them as to prevent them from welding together again. He took a moment to examine the inside of the desk, looking for any clues that could lead to the Lear’s disappearance of the source of this strange magic.
He hadn’t even noticed the bird that had flown into the room. He had been busy looking for clues. At the sound of Jo’s voice – ‘Dibs!’, she had yelled – he jumped again, nearly dropping the poor Greg. “Hell,” he told her a bit angrily, “Would you stop doing that? I’m already jumpy as it is!” Then he thought about her words. “Dibs?” he wondered. “On what?” Jesus Christ, girls were confusing.
He hadn’t even noticed the scroll in her hand, a rather professional look about it – it had a seal and all. She had ripped it off without a care, before shoving the note in his hands. “Can you read it aloud?” she asked him.
Still sat between the desk, his back against one half and his feet against the other, he didn’t really feel at the best position to do this. But he still hadn’t turned down a challenge in his life. “Fine,” he relented. Still holding Greg carefully in one hand, he took the letter out with his teeth and dropped it into his hand. “It says..”[/font]
Examining the desk furtherAction
Reading and inspecting letter
[If you need to Godmod Rafa reading the letter, do what you need to do.]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
Definitely Not Trespassing
Rafael's shock and fear would be emulated by the unfortunate Greg. When the desk opened, Greg would let out a shriek, when Rafa's grip loosened the furry creature would try to burrow into the boy's collar. Rafael would interested in the bisected desk. Seemed like a rather obvious find in an office where someone went to the lengths of removing every last witness, less one lonesome, damaged Greg. Inside the desk he would not see much. But there was a very obvious, not very well hidden compartment inside the desk. There he would find a stack of letters bound together by a simple single pink ribbon. The letters were all unsealed. There was four (sure, let's do four here) letters in total.
"Dibs!"
Jo would declare from above, the sound of ripping above young Rafael. The PTSD-stricken PygmyPuff would scream (squeak loudly) a second time. The poor small creature had just crawled out from wherever it was hidden and had crawled its way back to his hands when terror struck one again and the Jake-like pet would scurry once more to its new hiding place. Somewhere in Rafael's hopefully recently laundered shirt.
Jo Morgan would nearly drop the letter on Rafa's head, it was not easy passing noted to a boy who had basically wedged himself inside the two halves of the desk. The desk would repeatedly try to close itself on Rafa, each time the wooden sides would bounce back off. Not particularly painful but most certainly annoying. The rhythmic bouncing was almost like a metronome or a muggle might suggest more accurately windshield wipers. Back and forth. Open and closed.
Jo would assess the seal:
The seal on the letter was simple. Embossed with a thick ruby-hued glob of wax, the wax was stamped with the profile of three (OC: not four, I know you are looking) unicorns facing to the left. The top two unicorns were separated from the lower unicorn by what would appear to be a parapet.
Rafael would read the letter.
"Dibs!"
Jo would declare from above, the sound of ripping above young Rafael. The PTSD-stricken PygmyPuff would scream (squeak loudly) a second time. The poor small creature had just crawled out from wherever it was hidden and had crawled its way back to his hands when terror struck one again and the Jake-like pet would scurry once more to its new hiding place. Somewhere in Rafael's hopefully recently laundered shirt.
Jo Morgan would nearly drop the letter on Rafa's head, it was not easy passing noted to a boy who had basically wedged himself inside the two halves of the desk. The desk would repeatedly try to close itself on Rafa, each time the wooden sides would bounce back off. Not particularly painful but most certainly annoying. The rhythmic bouncing was almost like a metronome or a muggle might suggest more accurately windshield wipers. Back and forth. Open and closed.
Jo would assess the seal:
The seal on the letter was simple. Embossed with a thick ruby-hued glob of wax, the wax was stamped with the profile of three (OC: not four, I know you are looking) unicorns facing to the left. The top two unicorns were separated from the lower unicorn by what would appear to be a parapet.
The wax itself was still pliable but cooled. The tassel itself, appeared fine and new. It was intended to be somewhat showy or perhaps expensive it would seem.
Rafael would read the letter.
The letter is unsigned. the handwriting was exquisite. The ink was a deep, almost midnight blue.A bit of flourish to some of the letters. The appearance was not nearly as charming as the contents of the letter itself. It was telling them to leave. Were they being watched? Did someone know? Were they in immediate danger?[font=Brush Script MT]Took long enough for someone to trespass in this office. All of the portraits in my office have been moved to a safe location of my choosing. Keenly aware of your duplicity, I have taken measures to ensure that you would be stopped. Evacuate these premises immediately.
Time is of the essence. Obstinate behavior in this matter will not be tolerated.
Notice of evacuation is immediate. Ogre release imminent. Requisition for the following: downy powdered Root of Asphodel, a sophorous bean, new phial of infusion of Wormwood, green Valerian root, entire Sloth brain and rinsed vial with a stopper. Allowances will not be made, please leave the requested articles in Hogsmede at Hogs Head.[/font]
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Solomon Lear @Rafael D'Spacito
Four - a deeply unlucky number in Japan associated with death. It was a good thing, then that the worrying crest contained only three unicorns.
Realizing that the letter didn’t exactly give a warm welcome, Jo turned to address the boy who was…wedged between a desk? Huh?
“Rafa, I’m not gonna judge you if you want to leave. I’ve got half a mind to leave myself, but I don’t think I can, especially if the Headmaster might be in trouble. Although I certainly wouldn’t want to end up like one of the Gregs in the fireplace. Anyway, those ingredients sound familiar, but I can’t recall what they’re for.“
The ingredients, of course, were for the Draught of Living Death, but Jo hadn’t studied that particular potion yet. She was, however, attentive enough in class to know that Valerian Root was a powerful sedative.If she did know about the potion, she would have most likely jumped to the conclusion that Umbridge wasn’t actually dead, just being kept in a comatose state.
Something sounded off about the letter - it wasn’t how the old man usually spoke. There was something cold and cruel about his words - it could have been the demanding tone that rubbed her the wrong way. Jo spied a stack of papers inside the desk and ripped them out.
“If we have a faux Headmaster Lear on our hands, we should be able to tell by his handwriting!”
Snatching the Headmaster's threat from her rival's hands, the girl began to examine the letters to see if any were signed by Headmaster Lear, in order to cross-check the handwriting to see if they were the same.
“Also, the real Headmaster would know we can’t just take anything we want from the Potions store-room. AND, we also aren’t allowed in Hogsmeade yet…” She muttered. The request for materials seemed rather urgent, but she didn’t feel like obliging to the demands of someone who could very well have nefarious intentions. Then again, maybe they could at least pretend to help - it might give them some idea as to who was behind all of this.
“I think we should try to give this person what they want - I know you’re good at fighting but I’m not sure we can take on an ogre. I’m pretty sure I can’t, anyway. Besides, this potion doesn’t really sound like a poison, and this person might not want to kill us if we prove to be helpful to him. One of us could try to sneak in to Hogsmeade with the stuff, and maybe hide in a closet and see who comes to pick it up!”
Action: Inspect letters in order to cross-check handwriting signatures.
OOC: If we were to try to get these ingredients, what would we need to do?
Last edited by Jo Morgan on 21 Dec 2019, 18:52, edited 5 times in total.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Jo Morgan @Solomon Lear
[font=Segoe Print] Rafa recited the letter aloud, making sure he had absorbed every piece of information. “Ogre release?” he muttered, a hint of alarm to his voice. Bloody hell, that seemed like a big step. His unconsciously darted around the room suspiciously – where would it even come from?
Should he even be worried? Part of him couldn’t help but laugh. It’s an idle threat, he reasoned. Why in the bloody hell would someone send an ogre in here? Though, he couldn’t stop the dread from pooling in his stomach, his heart twisting in his chest once. Why would someone send an ogre in here if there weren’t something terribly wrong? If this letter were anything to take seriously, that would mean that something had happened to Lear – Umbridge did die in the same room, after all. The whole thing gave him a nasty sort of feeling, red lights firing in the back of his head.
Deciding to be best of both worlds, he drew his wand, keeping it in his hands in case he might need it in the coming moments.
It was then he realized the secret compartment in the desk – it had been in front of him the entire time, and he hadn’t noticed it. “What..” he murmured quietly to himself. He quickly put his wand between his teeth, using his free to inspect the seam. It didn’t seem locked, he noticed. Without much more thought or tact, he pulled it open carefully.
Inside, he found a stack of four letters. He took them out, careful not to damage any of them, and handed them to Jo. “Hold these,” he muttered, searching the compartment for other things. Alas, he found nothing. Taking his wand and the letter in one hand, and the little Greg in the other, he stood up carefully, escaping the ever-closing desk.
He looked over at Jo, watching as she inspected the seals, her keen eyes flying over every detail. “Rafa, I’m not gonna judge you if you want to leave,” she told him absently. “I’ve got half a mind to leave myself, but I don’t think I can, especially if the Headmaster might be in trouble. Although I certainly wouldn’t want to end up like one of the Gregs in the fireplace. Anyway, those ingredients sound familiar, but I can’t recall what they’re for.“
“No way in hell I’m leaving,” he fired at her, his eyes blazing. This had to have been one of the biggest challenges he’d faced in a while – she had to be crazy if she thought he was going to leave. Besides, Lear was in trouble. Who was he to stand by and leave him in danger? No ogre was going to intimidate him into leaving. He would go when he felt like it.
(Though, in the coming moments, that outlook would most likely change in a heartbeat.)
In his moment of pondering, a rather important thought had come to him – he had seen the list of ingredients during his study session with Jo. She had seen them, too, for that matter, but only he was remembering them those ingredients. “Draught..” he muttered in vague recollection. “Draught… of Living Death.” Turning towards Jo, he gave his fellow Gryffindor a rather serious look. “Jo, those are ingredients for the Draught of Living Death.”
It was around this time that Jo had ever so tactfully snatched the mysterious letter from his fingertips, her eyes flying over the writing carefully. He felt a touch of aggravation jolt his insides. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But, deciding not to dwell on this too much, he allowed himself to forget about it, his eyes flying around Lear’s office. They carefully looked over the walls, the floor, the dusty shelves and books..
It was then that he realized that the Sorting Hat was missing.
He didn’t say a single word, instead walked over to get a better look. Standing in front of the shelf it usually inhabited, he immediately noticed a quite suspicious feature – a ring of dust sat in a circular figure, right around where the brim of the hat would sit. Jo was saying something, but he wasn’t really listening all that well. “Yeah,” he said absentmindedly, running his finger through the dust in a dazed sort of way. His mind was spinning with thoughts and ideas, and he could do nothing to slow them down. Much more of this, and his train of thought was soon to crash.[/font]
[font=Segoe Print] Rafa recited the letter aloud, making sure he had absorbed every piece of information. “Ogre release?” he muttered, a hint of alarm to his voice. Bloody hell, that seemed like a big step. His unconsciously darted around the room suspiciously – where would it even come from?
Should he even be worried? Part of him couldn’t help but laugh. It’s an idle threat, he reasoned. Why in the bloody hell would someone send an ogre in here? Though, he couldn’t stop the dread from pooling in his stomach, his heart twisting in his chest once. Why would someone send an ogre in here if there weren’t something terribly wrong? If this letter were anything to take seriously, that would mean that something had happened to Lear – Umbridge did die in the same room, after all. The whole thing gave him a nasty sort of feeling, red lights firing in the back of his head.
Deciding to be best of both worlds, he drew his wand, keeping it in his hands in case he might need it in the coming moments.
It was then he realized the secret compartment in the desk – it had been in front of him the entire time, and he hadn’t noticed it. “What..” he murmured quietly to himself. He quickly put his wand between his teeth, using his free to inspect the seam. It didn’t seem locked, he noticed. Without much more thought or tact, he pulled it open carefully.
Inside, he found a stack of four letters. He took them out, careful not to damage any of them, and handed them to Jo. “Hold these,” he muttered, searching the compartment for other things. Alas, he found nothing. Taking his wand and the letter in one hand, and the little Greg in the other, he stood up carefully, escaping the ever-closing desk.
He looked over at Jo, watching as she inspected the seals, her keen eyes flying over every detail. “Rafa, I’m not gonna judge you if you want to leave,” she told him absently. “I’ve got half a mind to leave myself, but I don’t think I can, especially if the Headmaster might be in trouble. Although I certainly wouldn’t want to end up like one of the Gregs in the fireplace. Anyway, those ingredients sound familiar, but I can’t recall what they’re for.“
“No way in hell I’m leaving,” he fired at her, his eyes blazing. This had to have been one of the biggest challenges he’d faced in a while – she had to be crazy if she thought he was going to leave. Besides, Lear was in trouble. Who was he to stand by and leave him in danger? No ogre was going to intimidate him into leaving. He would go when he felt like it.
(Though, in the coming moments, that outlook would most likely change in a heartbeat.)
In his moment of pondering, a rather important thought had come to him – he had seen the list of ingredients during his study session with Jo. She had seen them, too, for that matter, but only he was remembering them those ingredients. “Draught..” he muttered in vague recollection. “Draught… of Living Death.” Turning towards Jo, he gave his fellow Gryffindor a rather serious look. “Jo, those are ingredients for the Draught of Living Death.”
It was around this time that Jo had ever so tactfully snatched the mysterious letter from his fingertips, her eyes flying over the writing carefully. He felt a touch of aggravation jolt his insides. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But, deciding not to dwell on this too much, he allowed himself to forget about it, his eyes flying around Lear’s office. They carefully looked over the walls, the floor, the dusty shelves and books..
It was then that he realized that the Sorting Hat was missing.
He didn’t say a single word, instead walked over to get a better look. Standing in front of the shelf it usually inhabited, he immediately noticed a quite suspicious feature – a ring of dust sat in a circular figure, right around where the brim of the hat would sit. Jo was saying something, but he wasn’t really listening all that well. “Yeah,” he said absentmindedly, running his finger through the dust in a dazed sort of way. His mind was spinning with thoughts and ideas, and he could do nothing to slow them down. Much more of this, and his train of thought was soon to crash.[/font]
ActionLooking Over Walls
Examining Shelf in hopes to find a clue to the whereabouts of the Sorting Hat
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
Definitely Not Trespassing
Jo tore through the letters. Well, the letters were not sealed. They even had a bit of flair to them, how they were bound together in this sort of bundle. The handwriting was similar, how the p's and y's dipped and how the start of each sentence has a bold, large uppercase letter. They were signed from Solomon, all of them. Letters from himself.
...to Umbridge.
They were going to need to ask for more help. Get additional minds and opinions on this or simply take this at face-value.
...to Umbridge.
4.4.24
Doloreδ,
I just wanted to remind you tλat you arε a ωonderful, beαutiful woman. I know that I do not tell you that as often as I δhould. You are now chasing your drea^^s and making up for lost time. I am so proυd of youΓ har∂ work. You dεserve to be happy, as happy as you have Γεally ma∂e me. It is amazing to watch you work your way βack into the Ministrγ and to prove to everyone that you have been trans∫ormed. ! kηow that you have ηo p1acε to go, please come to Hogwarts and find securitγ in our stone walls and my strong arms.
Headmaster Lear
Did Headmaster Lear have some sort of scandalous relationship with the late Umbridge? Gross, old people love. The pieces could be pounded together at this point, but hopefully they were wrong. Jumping to conclusions can lead to disastrous consequences. But why were the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death being listed? Was the message -that- straight-forward. A love letter to Umbridge, the request for potion ingredients for a well-known potion that only mimics death. Possible, but did it make sense?Dolores,
RAW DOOLB LIVE
GAH
Solomon
They were going to need to ask for more help. Get additional minds and opinions on this or simply take this at face-value.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Solomon Lear @Rafael D'Spacito
There was no difference between the handwriting....ugh. There went her fabulous, intricate theories.
“Yep, it’s Headmaster Lear alright. Interesting. So Polyjuice is out of this equation for good. But...threatening a student just sounds so unlike him. I don’t think we should rule out the Imperius curse just yet.”
The girl put down the pile of letters, took the one on top, and began to scan it with her eyes. Hmmm.... Oh. Oh. Oh my. OH. OH SHIT. This was bad - she could definitely be expelled if someone found out she’d read this.
“Headmaster Lear and Ms. Umbridge snogging, huh.” She shivered in distaste. Didn’t the Headmaster already have a wife and children? He didn’t appear a particularly lecherous man, but one could never know with these sorts of scandalous authority figures.
The second letter, of course, was much more interesting. Raw Doolb Live? The words were far too incoherent to even suggest the likelihood of them coming together to form a sentence. It was as if the Headmaster had smashed his head on a keyboard and let it autocorrect.
There were no keyboards at Hogwarts, however. Either Headmaster Lear had drunk far too much firewhisky, or he had written the nonsense deliberately as some sort of coded message. The fact that all of the letters were in caps meant that the message, whatever it was, was urgent.
Jo pondered over the letter for a few minutes, even considering trying a spell or two to unravel the secrets of the cryptic letter.
A chill fell down her spine as she realized something. Jo’s mouth fell open, and she instinctively grabbed Rafa’s arm, shoving the second letter in his face. “Rafa. Backwards. Read it backwards.”
“...Evil Blood War. Hag.” She followed...just in case.
One didn’t have to know too much about wizarding history to be familiar with the mixed/pure-blood struggle that plagued the magical world. Voldemort had left an open, festering wound in a wizarding community struggling to embrace its diversity. His poisonous posthumous influence still spawned many copycats and followers who sought to complete his mission of waging war against all those of mixed magical heritage.
If Headmaster Lear was secretly trying to warn them of a coming blood war (or even an ogre, really), they’d certainly need help.
“I’m going to go find a professor - one who can help us figure out what’s going on and who, unlike us, knows more than just one or two spells. I may be a first-year, but I highly doubt an Unforgivable Curse can be stopped with a punch. I shouldn’t take too long.”
And with that, Jo dashed off in search of a few trustworthy friends and teachers.
Jo has temporarily left the thread, but will return very quickly with three or four students and professors.Action: Leave the room in search of other students and professors.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
I am not going to be actively moderating this thread at that point. I have to close these up. (Fair warning) I felt bad leaving you waiting in a limbo here because he was not around likely to interface depending on how the ball went (meaning it went in a way that makes him gone) but I have to move onto the next story stuff. Feel free to use the thread, I just wont be able to actively moderate it for additional information beyond what you have already found/discovered.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.