Detention Detail PV Beyond the Treeline

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5:45 AM. Mamori had no particular grievance with the hour itself, given that his captain duties had been starting at 5:30 on the dot since he made the poor life decision of accepting this position, Saturdays included. What he did take issue with was having to stand in front of his gradually assembling team and announce that he had "something to attend to" and was dumping the morning onto @Harumi Everdane. And then Harumi also had something to attend to, at the exact same time, going to the exact same place. The team wasn't stupid so whatever remained of his captain authority was going to figure itself out within the week (RIP his captain's image). Whatever this place was supposed to be called, it was packed beyond any reasonable expectation, and the headmaster was there sunglasses on and pineapple juice in hand, at ease in a way that Mamori chose to interpret as confirmation that the entire operation existed for his personal entertainment. The pink-haired badger's personal theory was that the man had gotten bored sometime around May and decided a last-minute end-of-year enforcement quota would make for good viewing; all it took was one decree and every prefect and professor in the building was scrambling to manufacture violations at a pace that suggested creativity over accuracy. This is peak diabolical, no wonder the man was the single most feared person in the building. Creating fake prophecies for profit — that was what they were calling it — and he swore on everything he owned, that anyone who thought that framing was fair had never run a small business in their life. With end of school year approaching and his usual clientele in his potion business dwindling, he had simply adapted his services to meet a different kind of demand, offering personalised readings for people with questions about their O.W.L. results, whether specific individuals liked them back, the projected success rate of ongoing bets, or the general whereabouts of good fortune using chocolate frog cards as the medium; and on occasion, when the reading concerned what lay ahead, marketing the service as prophecy (which was technically what it was!). This was a reasonable choice given that Muggles built entire industries around things like playing cards, the lines on their palms, the shape of their ear lobes et cetera et cetera, none of which could pick them out of a lineup. He had charged a fee that covered the cost of buying enough chocolate frogs and not much else, and every single customer had left with a memorable experience. A win win situation. Was he supposed to do it for free? He was not a saint and his schedule was not empty; breaking even was the bare minimum! Whoever had reported him was going to regret it. He had not yet identified the person, but he would, and then they would. The headmaster's address was brief, but Mamori's attention span was briefer, so he caught a few key words and spent the rest doing a slow sweep of the crowd, gloves and shears already in hand. Somewhere near the middle of it he found Damien, raising the immediate question of what exactly Damien had done because broski did not read as someone who collected detentions. Mamori gave Harumi a wave that functioned simultaneously as a farewell and apology then made his way over, arriving with his arm already settled over Damien's shoulder. "What does a model student have to do to end up here," he asked, easy and conversational. "Want to group up?" then turned to the two standing nearby @Zach Zaphiere @Rosaline Everhart — one of whom rang a vague bell, most likely Quidditch-related, but there had been enough games and enough players that the faces had started blurring together — with the same easy manner. "What about you two? What are you in for? For what it's worth, I'm here on false charges." One of Mamori's more reliable talents was the ability to say things like this without blinking.

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𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19 - creating fake prophecies for profit 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 @Damien Dragonclaw, but open to interactions! 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑠 sta. 5 | eva. 10 | str. 5 | wis. 9 | arc. 3 | acc. 10 𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 Non-Human Enthusiast | Foulplay 𝑜𝑜𝑐 permission to godmod Harumi was granted by her writerxxxxxxxxx

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English | Parseltongue
interacting: @Dahlia Lee
mentioning: @Solomon Lear
open to all interactions
d20 detention: googly eyes on a suit of armor

Della Barfield was officially losing it. Her second detention in five years. She stayed out of trouble—well, sometimes danger came looking for her. But trouble with authority figures was something not in her worldview. She followed the rules. She was polite to professors. She respected the curfew (mostly), and she turned in her homework (even though the heaps of it had gotten heavier of the last few months).

And, of course, this detention had to be with the headmaster! The most authoritative of the local authority figures. Della had hardly even seen Solomon Lear in her years at Hogwarts, and now he probably had a negative opinion of her.

Plus, she was grouped with a multitude of students who had received detention. Were there really this many troublemakers at Hogwarts? There were a surprising number of familiar faces. Surely it wasn’t the norm for other broom racers to engage in risky and rash behavior outside of the track?

But she didn’t want to talk to those faces. There was a deep well of shame for the crime that put her here. It was a bit unorthodox. She’d rather have been caught for stealing, late-night sneaking, or even cheating. Those crimes had a certain appeal; the student body could understand the temptation there at least.

No, Della Barfield had been caught defacing a suit of armor. At first, it seemed like a normal idea. She needed to practice her transfiguration spellwork in front of someone. She could hardly cast the advanced spells they were learning by herself, let alone in front of an exam proctor. All of the school’s suits of armor had unique and subtle personalities. Maybe if she practiced in front of one of them, it would help her with her stage fright.

But as it turned out, a suit of armor was still intimidating—it’s kind of the point of the whole armor thing. So what she thought was a great idea at first and perfectly sensible and sane, did not, in fact, look sensible or sane to the flying professor as he walked by.

He caught Della Barfield gluing googly eyes to the suit of armor.

She supposed Professor Weems had a high opinion of her before this act, his class being one of her best, and she would have to work hard to restore that opinion. That started with this detention. She's not sure if she could improve Lear's opinion of her, but she planned to try her best to make a neat and tidy treeline.

The headmaster instructed them to start clearing debris in pairs. Close to her was a first-year Gryffindor girl. First year. Maybe she didn’t know Della. Maybe she didn’t yet have a strong opinion that could be tarnished by seeing the fifth-year broom captain in this capacity. “Hey, would you like to work together? I’m Della, by the way. I’ve seen you in the dorms, but I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

pairing up with Dahlia
note: Della's snake Greta is nearby in the woods, doing her snake spy thing

AMAZING BANNER BY MADELINE TOMLINSON

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Word Count: 955/200

Interacting with: @Solomon Lear, @Rosalyn Willows, though open to other interactions! Mentioning: @Briar Anderson

Lauren: #2e5a25 Others: #84774d Thoughts: italics

Date: XXth June, 2026

Credit to Tabitha Murrey

Interacting: @Fawkes Chaos | Open to interactions!
Mentioning: Solomon Lear

Aislin was feeling uncharacteristically grumpy. Normally, she didn't mind the mornings too much, would be excited by the heavy presence of an oncoming storm, and found Headmaster Lear cool, always in armor as he was. But it was far too early for this, even she would find it miserable if it stormed while they were stuck out here, and Headmaster Lear was looking more like the enemy of a perfectly good Saturday right now, uttering the words until sunset. Aislin was positive this was excessive. It would have been enough to get a detention, rare but not the first for her, and likely a disappointed owl from her mam. You duel outside of the duelling club once and suddenly you owe the school a full day of labor.

It hadn't even been anything disruptive or violent, just her and her cousin sparring out on the grounds, soaking up the sunlight and each others' spells when they weren't fast enough to dodge ([d20: 11], unauthorized duelling). They'd both received a telling off when they were caught, but Aislin had been in far more trouble (as a duelling captain she should really know the rules and dangers), so Orin was happily sleeping in today. Lucky duck.

Aislin had only just made it on time, in cargo shorts, short sleeves, and her usual pair of scuffed, well-loved boots, with a raincoat tied around her waist. The shorts had once been Orin's, which meant they actually had pockets, and she'd stuffed them full: she had her wand, a stale bread roll wrapped in napkins from the evening before and a bag of jelly slugs (she really wished she'd brought more, with how long she was going to be here), a little can she could fill with Aguamenti, if she focused hard, and whatever knick knacks she'd left at the bottom when she'd last worn the shorts (likely a rock or two and some now-smushed foliage she'd found interesting and forgotten about). Her pockets were weighed down, but probably not enough; all she had time to think about this morning was the threatening rumbling in her stomach and out her window.

The only thing at all exciting about any of this were the dragonhide gloves, because she really wanted a pair of her own. She was planning to ask her uncle if he had an old pair this summer, and expected them to be as worn as these, but still, they'd be dragonhide. They'd be much better than the basic gloves her mam had found in her old things. Yard work wasn't new to her, she helped out on her grandparents' farm, so shearing and picking up sticks she could do. Hours of it, though. Her brief glove-related enthusiasm faded fast. She looked hopefully around at the many other gathered students for a familiar face. The trouble was, Aislin remembered faces much better than names, and she didn't know many people well to know who wouldn't be a terrible partner. Probably best to avoid the ones that looked like they'd never touched dirt outside of Herbology class.

Her wandering around the mass of troublemakers finally landed on a face and name: Fawkes Chaos! Fawkes was in her year and had been made Ravenclaw duelling captain recently. She seemed plenty nice, and probably not inclined to scream if a bug passed by. "Fawkes, hi!" Aislin waved, shears and all -- it ended up being a pretty short wave, when she remembered what she was holding. "D'you want to be partners?"

Action: Asking to partner with Fawkes Chaos

Stats: STA: 7 • EVA: 6 • STR: 4 • WIS: 7 • ARC: 5 • ACC: 7
Abilities: Charmer (opponents: N/A, we're all friends here =])
Inventory: Wand, dragonhide gloves, shears, assorted pocket contents (bread roll, bag of jelly slugs, small can, rock)

Post Tracker: 1 | 2 | 3

ꕤ English ꕤ Irish ꕤ Internal thoughts Action: Regretting life choices.

Interacting: @

Mentioning: @Mathias Athanatos | @Aamon Athanatos | @Nabi Park | @Matthew Campbell

Winnie had not had to endure detention since her second year at Hogwarts, when she had tossed spells at some jerks who had ruined her thirteenth birthday party. Now, four years later, she stood clad in a pair of pink overalls she usually wore when helping her mother around the farm.

She still was confused as to why she and Nabi had been given detention. Something about occult rituals and how they weren't allowed at Hogwarts. What ritual? Complaining about men? Merlin, wouldn't most straight girls be in detention every weekend if that were the case? Aamon should be the one with detention, if anything. He had been playing around and breaking hearts. That should be against the rules.

... Okay, so maybe she had been muttering senseless threats under her breath to try and make Nabi laugh. Things like how he would have a rip in his pants, his hair would refuse to cooperate, or how the next morning his toast just wouldn't taste right. But she had been joking. She wouldn't wish real harm on her younger brother-in-law or attempt some sort of weird ritual.

She probably could have gotten out of it if she had put up more of a fuss, or tried a more Karen move by using her new family name. But it felt icky to throw it around like that, no matter how easily Mathias seemed to be able to do it.

Detention it was. It was her, Nabi, an oddly large group of people, and these rusty garden shears. Who let their shears get into this condition anyway? They obviously were not being cleaned properly. She set them aside, and dug into the satchel she brought with her when picking wild flowers. She pulled out her own pair of gloves and garden shears, sharpened ones with pink handles.

She had to bite her lip to keep herself from squawking about how sexist the rules were. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she grumbled as she stormed over to Nabi, her pink rain boots sinking into the dirt below. When she saw her friend engrossed in conversation with Matthew Campbell, she paused, her brows furrowing together. Was he trying to steal her detention buddy?

PARAGON OF HEALTH: Winnie is boosting Nabi Park and Evelynn Decipio, giving them an extra 10% of health.

date june wc 310 speech xxxxxxxx

rolled 18. selling exam answers mentions open to interactions, action pairing w/ @Robin Lockett

Cleaning wasn't something Andrea minded, usually tidying her own room multiple times without help from her house elves. Having to cleanup on moist soil was another thing. Andrea liked the rain, it gave her a sense of calm and left behind a scent of petrichor in the air, but she disliked the sensation of wet ground under her shoes.

While gazing over the unexpectedly numerous amounts of students in detention, Andrea hadn't noticed the boy walking towards her.

"Hallo, did you find a partner yet?" he asked, Andrea took note of his Scottish accent. She turned around to spot a familiar student, whom she had seen around often. He was a first year Ravenclaw like herself. This is good. she thought. It would've been quite humiliating for Andrea to find a classmate, much more a friend, seeing her in detention with her good reputation in class.

She didn't notice that she'd been staring at the boy for a while now, snapping out of her thoughts once he added in, "I uh... haven't." Andrea raised her eyebrows in amusement. She could tell he felt quite awkward with how he stood at a distance and how his eyes didn't meet hers. She understood, though.

Andrea stepped closer to the boy, but still keeping a gap between them. She gave him a friendly smile, offering her hand. "I haven't found a partner as well. I'm Andrea, Andrea Woodsburn."

She examined the boy once more. He didn't seem like the type to cause trouble, so why was he here in detention? "If you don't mind me asking, why'd you end up here? I've heard about you before, you're a good student." She remarked, adding in, "I myself had the idiotic idea to sell exam answers. It was going well, but unfortunately some told on me." She shrugged, as if she had expected this outcome.

sta: 06 | eva: 05 | str: 05 | wis: 07 | arc: 05 | acc: 07
calming presence

@Kaito Foxglove

A Saturday in June

With bad dreams recently affecting his sleep, Pyxis’ body did him the favor of shaking him awake in the middle of the night on Thursday. He’d laid in bed, trying to get his adrenaline down so he wouldn’t be restless, but after a few minutes of deep breathing, the young lad realized that something was wrong. The soft, sometimes rhythmic and oftentimes annoying squeaks of his pygmy puff didn’t emanate from beneath the bed where she liked to sleep. This was why Pyxis found himself outside the Slytherin commons after curfew, using his wand to light the way as he called out for his beloved pet while blaming their weak bond for her disappearance.

Alas, he was caught and after receiving a scolding, he returned to his dorm to find Pixel sleeping soundly on his pillow. That blasted thing would be the end of him.

Pyxis was used to waking up early for classes, but this was just too much. Had his brief escapade really upset the upstairs powers so much that he was not only punished with physical labor, but also diminished sleeping hours? Can I sue? Despite his silent complaints, Pyxis found himself with the crowd, bright and early on Saturday morning. Well, it’s not exactly bright. There was no sun to speak of which would have been a pleasurable experience if it wasn’t so humid. The lad regretted wearing so many layers after expecting a chilly morning.

He shed his jacket and used it to cover his nose because the place stunk. The last time he’d smelled something so bad was back in the early days of his first year when he participated in non-forced physical labor - unearthing some weird weeds from the Hogwarts grounds that seemingly trapped creatures in their roots. Pyxis shuddered at the memory and at his willingness to volunteer for such projects. Perhaps the scent here was not nearly as bad as back then. Pyxis would need the moderator to provide more information on that.

Normally attentive to the Headmaster in his comical suit of armor, the young lad accepted the tools without listening to anything beyond the task at hand and trudged down to where he saw Kaito already getting to work. His Gryffindor friend was upfront about the amount of times he’d gotten detention in the past, so Pyxis thought it’d be a good idea to stick close to him. He was also the only person there that Pyxis regularly spent time around.

“Is this what you normally do in detention? Because it’s a bit overkill, in my opinion,” he muttered as he approached the lion, stooping to pick some branches.

Action: Pairing up with Kaito, clearing branches
STA: 10 | EVA: 7 | STR: 3 | WIS: 12 | ARC: 10 | ACC: 9
Perfectionist | Stat Relevant | Spell Spread