Definitely Not Trespassing PV Solomon Lear

@Elliot Price
@Rafael D'Spacito



Jo tore her way back into the office, nearly ripping the already broken door off of its hinges as she dove straight for the stack of papers.

She picked up the first one, and slammed it back onto the desk.

“This one! Professor Price, please come see this.”

It was the love letter to Umbridge, of course.

“Er... about the Hogsmeade thing... we can’t go, because we’re first years and the Hogwarts Express isn’t running right now. We were wondering... Professor, would you by any chance know how to Apparate? If you could take us to Hogsmeade... that would be great. After all, Draught of Living Death isn’t really a poison, right? I think it’s important that we know who’ll be there to receive the ingredients. Whoever wrote this will be expecting us to go - I don’t want him to know we told a professor, but it would be nice to have a professor there in case something were to go wrong. This person, might give us some information if he thinks we might be useful to him.”

She bit her lip, shrugging.

“Since the handwriting is Headmaster Lear’s, it’s most likely him. But something about the potion ingredient letter seems... off. I want to see if someone goes along with him, or if someone looks like they’re keeping an eye on him. Even though it’s unlikely they’ll be using polyjuice potion if he can’t even get his hands on a glass vial I’m not sure we can rule out the Imperius Curse. There are a few other things that make me think this isn’t Headmaster Lear, too. Firstly, the misspelling of Hogsmeade as well as not even knowing first years can’t go both indicate that this person doesn’t really know too much about either. Secondly, Lear would also know that first years can’t just go to the potions room and get whatever the heck they want.”

She scampered around the desk, searching for the other letter.

Elliot’s long strides had him following closely as Jo Morgan scurried up to the entrance of the Headmaster’s office. When they came upon the door, he would pause for a moment and draw his wand. The hinges were busted, the framing cracked and bent. It was obvious that something large had bursted through. The older man armed himself and followed.

As Elliot entered the room, he took a moment to look around. The space seemed long abandoned as he eyed a thin layer of dust that lightly covered the surroundings. Blank spaces marked the empty spots that should have housed the many portraits of precious Headmasters and mistresses. Even the ever present Sorting Hat was no where in site. “My goodness! What on earth is going on around here? And what are you doing here young man?” (Not sure if Rafael is still here?)

His questioning would be cut short as Jo launched herself at the desk and grabbed some parchment. She pleaded with Elliot to have a look. Seeing no signs of the intruder, he pocketed his wand and withdrew the parchment Jo had given him in his office. Laying it down beside the others she had presented, he leaned over them for a closer look as he listened to the young girl’s words.

“You are right, both of these letters seem to be in the same handwriting.” He reread them over a few times, his long slender fingers tracing the words. The short letter made no sense at first, until he read it backwards. Evil Blood War...Hag. His heart began to hammer in his chest as the memory flashed in his mind. The forest lashed out against them, a pawn to the vile creature that had almost killed him. He exchanged a worried look with Jo, but would say nothing on the matter. 

Elliot turned his attention to the letter Jo had given him, the one that spoke of Ogres and potion ingredients. He squinted his eyes, some of the letter seemed embellished. T-A-K-E-T-O-N-O-R-A. What did it mean? Elliot spelled them out in his mind and then it clicked. Take To Nora! This had to mean Professor Hjordis Nora Jensen!

“Miss Morgan, you Sir (Rafa)! I never quite got the hang of apparition, but even if I did, the protective charms over the school make it impossible to apparate anywhere on school property. I have no idea what is going on here, but I cannot allow you to leave school property. These letters do seem off, but there may be a deeper meaning. Look at this one here. See how some of the letters are embellished. Spell them out! These must be meant for Professor Jensen. I want you two to go and try to find her, take the letters with you. The situation at Hogsmeade is too dangerous for you. I will go and investigate.” Elliot paused and bent down to Jo’s level, his index finger pointing into her face. “Whatever you do. Do NOT leave the school. Go directly to find Professor Jensen. Tell her you have been here with me and that I told you to give the letters to her. Do you understand?”

OOC: I cannot change your access to Hogsmeade, so I cannot take you there. You can reach out to Professor Jensen to see if she is willing to RP receiving the letters from you. If not, you can keep them and use them as evidence in future threads. I will post one more time here if you’d like to ask any questions, if not, Elliot will take his leave. 

Professor Price knew more than he said. He knew about the hags just off of school grounds, but that said more than Hags, it also said Blood War. The kids would be too young to remember those, but Elliot lived through it. He would understand what that meant and that was no letter intended for Dolores. It might have had her name on it and it might have been signed by and written with Solomon's hand, but that letter meant something else entirely. 

Blood Wars, at least the most recent one was between Pureblooded wizards and those of mixed or muggle birth. The subjugation of the non-pure. A cleansing. The enslavement of the unworthy, the less worthy. But there had been other blood wars in the past - rivalries over squibs and muggles, the need for maintaining an order of secrecy among wizards. This generational segregation of two similar but also incredibly diverse people brought with it a seething animosity. 

Price would know what that potion made. He might have even noticed the fact that there was a misspelling -- the word Hogsmeade. There were other, cringier letters. They too had meaning. Just, they were not as easy to discern it would appear. 

So was that it - leave this dangerous game up to kids. Trust that they would find Professor Jensen with a letter. Professor Price, don't tell me that you are getting old.

@Rafael D'Spacito @Solomon Lear @Elliot Price



“But…” Jo whined. It seemed like everyone thought everything was too dangerous for them now.

“If you really want to help the boy out, you need to find someone that is brave enough to do what is right and strong enough to endure the backlash and protect themselves.”

Sir Cadogan’s words returned to her mind, as acidic as when she has first heard them in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Because Jo, of course, wasn’t brave enough to do what was right, was she? Jo wasn’t strong enough to stand against backlash. Dammit, what was the point of even being a Gryffindor, then? If he was her age, Harry Potter would probably have been allowed to go help solve the mystery. Then again, Jo was far from a hero. Perhaps just the opposite, considering her heritage.

Of course, she wasn’t her father. So… she didn’t have anything to worry about, right? Just find this killer, see him brought to justice. Would that be it, then? Hear with satisfaction that he followed her father to Azkaban and wipe her hands of the history she was desperate to rid herself of? Or… was there something else she could do to prove herself a hero to herself, Hogwarts, and her father?

The brash young girl decided then and there that if she ever came face-to-face with this killer, she would try to atone for her father's crimes. She would put the murderer in the ground, burying her father’s memory with the Hogwarts killer. He would probably try to kill her first anyway, right? It would be an act of self-defense. She’d prove all of the portraits wrong. She’d prove herself wrong. Perhaps she was meant to be sorted into the house of the brave after all.

Rafa played Quidditch, so he must have access to a broom. Even if Professor Price couldn’t Apparate, they could still find a way! What about portkeys? Just because there weren’t any in the Gryffindor Common Room didn’t mean…

Suddenly, Jo found herself confronted with a finger in her face. It was quite the action, really, to put an end to her daydream. She looked up startled as Professor Price tried to hammer home his boring old-person warning. Don’t leave the school. Don’t go off on adventures. Don’t seek justice - leave it to the adults. The adults will do it. Don’t go into the forest or off to hunt killers. That’s a grown-up’s job. Children were to obey authority, hide behind the strong adults and hope that they could trust whoever told them they were in charge. Was that what Professor Price wanted her to do, in the face of a massive cover-up smearing the name of her House and her school with shameful lies while allowing a killer to walk among them?

Perhaps so - the grey-haired professor’s stern countenance was enough to quell Jo’s indignance, for the moment at least.

“Yes, sir.” She sulked, finally understanding the severity of the consequences she would face should she choose to directly disobey a professor’s orders.