A Helping Hand for the Younger Generation Private

The flight of the furry animal was, indeed, a spectacle. Definitely something he never experienced in his lives before. She heard the plea in Xailah's voice when she was mid-incantation, but it was a child's face against an uncomfortable landing. Schröedinger needed a bit of a stretch anyway, and cats have to always land on their paws, right?

Once both were in safety, Meenauh couldn't help but joke about her accuracy:
"Ugh, I missed, Xailah," were the words to cheer Xailah up, once she pointed out the lack of necessity of the actions Meenauh executed seconds before.

She prepared to take the boy to the Hospital Wing as they obviously couldn't proceed with Transfiguration anyway, but then she noticed a slight concern in Xailah's changed facial expression. Xailah was concerned about the boy's face, which Meenauh couldn't see yet. She walked all the way around the table to inspect the mystery that made Xailah concerned, but George was already helping his friend with a walk-it-off — the greatest comforting effort a friend could offer on the path to consolation.

The assumed age of the boy (she still believed he was no more than 5 years old) wasn't the biggest issue of the boy. The chances of his face to have not even a slight trace of the recent fight (if we can call it a fight, of course, and not a scene from a slaughter-house) were infinitely lower than the chances of the boys being able to cast any transfiguration spell that evening.

"But... how in the world could he fail to get a scratch on you?" she asked not the boy, but more the improvisatory council that had to quickly investigate the issue. She slowly turned to Xailah's furry almost-a-murderer and carefully patted him: "I'm sorry, darling", an apology had to take place at some point, but what she tried to do was actually to touch his paw in order to check the sharpness of his claws.

What were the odds? What spell was that? Maybe he had some inborn ability to quickly regenerate his skin, which was ultra-rare if existent at all. Maybe he had a stone skin, which was impossible to scratch. Useful, but again — more like a fairytale. There was a spell, but it was not a match for a first-year and it had to be maintained. Maybe he suffered from allodynia, but again, he was no muggle and wizardkind should have had eradicated it. Maybe his case was too severe and he had to take the potion? Was it some sort of protection? There were too many options and she couldn't narrow them down herself.

"Who are you, Jake Morris?"

@George Henry @Xailah Alptraum @Meenauh Silmataurea

George took Jake by the arm and pulled the stunned boy up to his feet. He said to walk it off, and so Jake tried - turning away and taking a few dazed steps. He had never got how walking was supposed to help when you were hurting, but it did have the benefit that if he couldn't keep the tears out of his eyes, nobody would be able to tell. It might not help, but at least it was more private. Jake sniffled once more, and swallowed against the lump that was caught in his throat, and with herculean effort managed to keep his face from betraying him. George said that he hadn't been damaged, and that he was going to be ok, and when he had met his fellow badger's eye he hadn't seen any worry. Jake kept repeating that in his head. He was alright. He wasn't a baby. He wouldn't cry.

The little badger completed his small circle, turning back to face the others - still stunned. He'd been semi-successful - his eyes were moist but the tears didn't fall. "Is he okay?" he asked Xailah softly, looking for sign of the cat that had gone flying, feeling very guilty. He hadn't really seen where Schrodinger had landed but he had felt him take off and seen how quickly afterwards he was scurrying away so he must have hit hard. It was his fault, really. He must have scared him, and if he had gotten hurt then that was because of him too. One more sniffle, and then he paused. Xailah was looking at him, this time with a new expression he hadn't ever seen before.

"My face...?" Jake repeated, putting his hand there once more. The concerned look on the girl's face scared him again - he expected to pull his hand away to see it stained completely with blood - that's how it went when he saw that look in his Mum's eyes. But when he pulled his hand away he didn't see anything strange at all. He flicked his eyes back to George, but there was none of that concern there. Then Meenauh. She looked at him strangely too, and asked how come he didn't have a scratch.

And suddenly Jake knew, and a new type of fear filled him.

Then came one of the strangest questions he had heard. Who are you, Jake Morris? the girl asked. "I don't know..." he answered. What did that even mean? "I'm me..." he said simply. It was the only answer that made any sense. If somebody asked who he was, he would usually tell them I'm Jake Morris, I'm eleven and a half years old, I'm a first-year Hufflepuff. He was so used to it he barely ever stuttered on it anymore. But she knew most of those things already... and something told him that wasn't what she was asking, but he didn't know what was.

But he did know why he didn't have a scratch. At least he thought he did. His hand idly went up to touch his cheek again, and the rough feel that was there.

Jake wasn't sleepy anymore - not by a long shot. His palms felt suddenly sweaty. He knew, just knew, that he couldn't tell anybody what had happened to him. Couldn't talk about it. At first it was because it had told him that they would think he was crazy. That they would never believe him. Then it was because he'd gone so long without telling that he thought he must have done something very bad and was scared of what would follow. Now, it wasn't any of those reasons exactly. It was just knowing. Knowing that he couldn't tell. No matter what.

The boy walked back over to his chair and climbed back into it. But he was looking at Meenauh and Xailah now, and they were looking at him. Jake couldn't look away... and his face was suddenly etched with guilt. Like they could see everything he was hiding. Like they knew. Jake fidgeted in his chair, and lowered his eyes, staring down at the floor.

Not a scratch. The little badgers skin was just as smooth and shiny, as the day he arrived on this Terra. It didn't make any sense. Schrödinger jumped at the boy- Schrödinger was biting and clawing at the childs face. There were four- no, five, witnesses. There was no way this kid didn't get scratched- and yet, there they stood; staring at the boy who didn't even have a bruise on his skin. Meenauhs words were somewhat reassuring, if not amusing. But it didn't stop Xailah from getting flustered. Xailah began to fade in color, just slightly. A good eye would be able to see that her hair, and vibrant eyes were a shade lighter than what they originally were. Having your pet launched across the room, wasn't something that could easily be brushed off. "He's alright, just a little ssspooked." The metamorph assured, in a strained voice; as she took a quick glance at the boy Jake.

The lioness would then watch her fellow cub, make her way over to the cat that had been tossed about. Schrödinger would squish himself farther into a corner of the desk. He puffed up; the thick grey fur, that was now standing on end, made him look twice as big. The behemoth of a creature would however, accept whatever pettings, and apologies Meenauh had to offer. The cat wasn't exactly one to hold a grudge on a person. Unless said person was Aurelia. Aurelia was horrible. She stole his bed. The large feline would flex a paw inside the palm of Meenauhs hand. The Gryffindor would feel gentle pinpricks, on the fleshy interior of her palm. His claws were sharp. So why was the boy unharmed?

Meenauh's question was odd indeed. But it made sense to some degree. It was a start. A building block to some very important answers. Xailah would get up and leave Schrödinger to his lonesome. She would swim through the momentary silence, and find her way back to the table that the quartet of students had been at, before the cat fiasco. She would pick up Jakes crinkled homework. Jakes answer to Meenauh was a predictable one, somewhat. It seemed like the only reasonable answer for the question asked- though, Xailah did expect a bit more from the answer. It was disappointing, but at least she had a stable structure to build from now. But are you sssure?" The Gryffindors eyebrow quirked in a curious manner. She turned to the older badger boy. "Cadmus?" Who was Cadmus? A Pet? Presumably. "Do animals usually feel the need to attack Jake?" If anyone could give some sort of explanation, it was George. Hopefully.

Meenauh's question left George completely gobsmacked. Who is he? Why in the world was everyone so concerned with who Jake was, suddenly? The last person he expected to overshadow him during a study session was the one and only Jake Morris. That was who he was. Timid, small, easily overpowered by a cat less athletic than a bowl of lard. It made no sense for Meenauh to be asking questions down at him like he was the subject of some great enigma. There was no puzzle. There was no mystery. There was just Jake Morris.

But the lack of scratches was a strange stroke of luck. That's all it was, of course - a stroke of luck and nothing more than that. When he looked back down at Jake, the smaller badger was there, tears in his eyes, though he was doing a better job of not crying than he usually did after being subject to a minor injury. "Don't worry about the cat, he's fine. He just bounced off the wall over there," George said, gesturing off to where the cat was now - accepting Meenauh's apologies, maybe.

George stood up with Jake and walked beside him to his chair, watching him as he climbed on. "What are you freaking out for?" he asked. The younger boy could hardly be described as 'freaking out', but George was in tune enough with his friend to know when something was wrong - he was acting all sad, with his head down, not looking around. He was breathing different, maybe, something that set off George's brotherly intuition that things had gone too far when he was making fun.

"Cadmus is my owl. He's got sharper claws than that bowling ball of a cat," George said, nodding to Xailah. The question about animal attacks confused him further - the boy's brow was furrowed, his nose all scrunched up, bewildered by the inexplicable actions of the Gryffindor girls. George wondered when he would meet a girl at school who wasn't at least a little crazy. "No. Only humans," George insisted. Did they think he was possessed by some spirit that only animals could see? He knew magic was real, but come on - be a little realistic. "I'm quite sure he was just lucky..."

Though, he had been acting strangely recently...

"But I'm open to alternative explanations."

She was piercing the boy with her stare as if trying to find out his secret inner self that he was hiding deep down below his personality. The boy's eyes wetted but he was attempting to stay brave and not cry. Xailah and George were conversing and doing something she didn't pay attention to but should have. She was trying to understand the boy. To find out how he worked. George didn't sound like anything special happened, but it did. It would require a huge ton of luck to avoid this, and based even on George's comment about who usually tended to attack Jake, it was kind of obvious luck wasn't always in Jake's favour.

Her eyes were locked on Jake. The boy turned very quiet, very shy. Of course, he was in shock, probably, because of the attack, but still cared about the cat. This is the kind of kindness people lack nowadays. But this is also kind of a trait that brings you trouble. When you don't love yourself, when you don't respect yourself, when you don't know the value of yourself, you are easy to control. People will make you a pawn in their schemes, people will make you obey their will without using any forbidden spells. You become a jelly, a sponge, an entity with no will.

The distraction of the thoughts flow wasn't a necessary thing to do, because it didn't answer any of the questions she asked herself earlier. How supernatural was the boy? Could he have some troll ancestry with the thick skin that would protect him even from spells? But then the fate would be a great comedian to make a descendant from trolls such a small boy. She didn't allow herself to go into the wilderness of scientific possibilities of humans having troll ancestry, though. She had one urge — to find out the truth.

Any hypothesis in scientific research had to be proven. Once an event happens it has to be confirmed. The only way to prove it was repetition. Any experiment had to be held under the same conditions and every result documented. But iteration and repetition was the key.

Using the on-going conversation and Jake's stance of looking down as a cover, she slowly approached Jake. She didn't want to hurt him more (she had lots of instant ideas of how to perform different tests), and didn't want to really scare him. But if one does science, nothing should stand in the way. She came really close to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, I'll just..." and she poked his cheek with her index finger, expecting her nail to dive into the newborn-like tender skin.

But it didn't.

@George Henry @Meenauh Silmataurea @Xailah Alptraum

Why couldn't it just be over? Why couldn't they just all go back to talking about the efficientsy postule again, and learning transfiguration? They could work on turning matchsticks to needles again, and Jake wouldn't even get shy. He would try to cast the spells, try harder to pay attention, focus, learn. He would do whatever they wanted, if they could just move on past all of this. They needed to move past all this. Jake's jaw clenched as he stared daggers down at the desk. But he didn't have to look to know that everybody's eyes were on him. He could feel it.

You could always tell when people were looking at you. It made your skin prickle. Eyes had weight to them, and you could never relax when you felt it. Jake felt it now... three pairs of eyes all watching him. He still watched the floor. But George had picked up on something. There was nobody at the school who knew Jake better than George did. Jake had learned a while ago that he couldn't hide anything from the older boy. He had learned that both because George was always figuring things out, and also because he had said so. Still it was a surprise every time it happened.

Jake's eyes turned to his friend's now, a mixture of anxiety and guilt. "I... I'm not..." Jake mumbled, because he had to. There was nothing else that he could say. He knew that inside his soul, with a certainty that went far beyond any reason. But if Jake was bad at hiding his feelings, or about holding in tears, he was even worse at lying. His face oozed tension.

Still, he hoped. Hoped that it would be enough. That the subject would change. Even that they could talk about it later, when it was just the two of them. Maybe then he could talk about it... Maybe then he could tell him everything. Maybe. Even Jake didn't really believe that, but anything was better than now, here. He looked down again. He had forgotten all about his scare with the cat and the fall. They were going to ask questions that he couldn't answer. He wanted to beg George to help him. To explain what he couldn't. There was a trust between the two of them. When Jake was afraid, or didn't know what to say, George said it for him much better than he ever could have. But George didn't know this, because Jake had never told him. So much time and he had never told him, and what would George think of him when he found out?

He didn't have time to imagine the answer to that. The boy's breath caught in his throat as he felt a pressure on his cheek - a finger he could no longer quite feel. His eyes flickered over to Meenauh - the older Gryffindor girl - and the look in her eye. Jake squirmed in his chair, clutching at his robes. He was caught.

"W-wait... Please..."

Little Jake was clearly no ordinary child. He was too short to be human. Perhaps he had some goblin blood in him? No. His skin was too perfect, to be related to a goblin. He clearly wasn't part veela either. What was this child? Why was he so resilient?! The child was a walking fetus, with hair! It made no sense! Did he have angels watching over him? ...Perhaps demons? Was he being protected by a spell of some sort? A questioning flicker of yellow, darted over to the Henry boy. The boy did look older than Jake, but not by much. And shielding spells were not taught until the fourth year; so this was a very peculiar predicament. So Cadmus was a pet. An owl nonetheless. Well, that was good. It was one less thing to interrogate. The metamorph nodded to George in return. "Oh for sure. Schrödinger is simply pathetic. Owls need sharp talons to hunt. The same would normally apply to cats except all Schrödinger does is, well- sit around." Literally. She made a circular motion with her hands.

A pitiful mewl, echoed from underneath the desk Schrödinger shoved his fat little body under. "Yeah I'm talking about you, you fat bastard." The quivering glob of fat let out a gravelly 'waow' in response. The sound was met with a very sassy eye-roll from his human. Xailah watched as the older-looking badgers brows arched, and knitted together. "I see." It made sense for people to feel the need to attack Jake. Upon meeting the lad, ones first instincts when seeing something so small and pathetic were to either take him, and mother him; or to take him and put him out of his misery. It was in the nature of both humans, and animals; to either protect or kill tiny helpless things, like Jake.

The Gryffindor slunk around the room. She had no particular place to go, but she subconsciously made her way to the door. The lioness would not exit- no, she would instead stop her trek, and press her back up against where the door met the frame. She was blocking the door. Though, she wasn't entirely aware of the fact that she was doing so. Her arms folded over her chest, as she quietly observed everything. She could only see the back of Jake's head now, she couldn't see everything- Meenauh pressing her finger against the badgers skin, the dread in the badgers eyes, the way he shook, the way he begged. She could however hear everything. The beastling took note of the way his voice quivered- and the sappy little gurgles that were a result of holding something back. Tears? Lies? Secrets..? They were familiar. And then there was the pleading. It was confusing at first. It could have fooled someone who was unfamiliar with how guilty children acted.

Jake had a guilty conscience. Didn't he? Xailah could identify most signs of guilt from a mile away. She was a guilty person. She was the second- if not the guiltiest person in the room. She stole, she kept secrets- so many secrets. Maybe that was it. Maybe Jake had a secret. "Jake." She called to the child, her voice smooth, and sweet, but coated with a thin layer of frost. "Is there sssomething you would like to say? Or perhaps confess? We can't understand you very well, when you let your voice quiver like that." If the boy were to turn around, we would see a smile on the lions face. Soft, sweet- but not quite gentle. Something was up. She knew it. They all did.

George laughed at Xailah's joke on the cat's size, despite the gravity of the situation. It was nice to have some comic relief at a time like this. He couldn't imagine Jake had done anything too serious, of course. Maybe he'd accidentally charmed his face and was too embarrassed to tell anyone that he didn't know how to get it off - but that didn't explain the odd behavior. And if he'd had a charms problem, he'd come to George before anyone, surely.

Lacking in tactical awareness, George didn't notice that Xailah had moved to block the door. He had been distracted by Schrodinger's mewling, but the comment on Jake's mewls made him look up to Xailah again with his nose scrunched up in distaste for the remark. "He hasn't done anything," George said, gesturing down at him as if it were evident just from the look on the younger boy's face. What could he have even done? He'd once apologized for moving George's shoes under the bed when they were in the way. No, Jake could do no wrong, at least not secretly. He couldn't even do something good without confessing it.

He had seen enough of the girls prodding at Jake, now, watching Meenauh's finger poke into his face. "Now, stop poking at him. He isn't a science experiment." George then leaned in close to examine the specimen, reaching out to tilt his chin up and inspect his face for any signs of damage - any evidence that would disprove the girls theories, whatever they were, about his immaculate face. "Oh - hold on, I know!" George said, looking around to Schrodinger's hiding place.

The unfortunate cat was in for another bout of harassment as George walked over and squat down, trying to take hold of that plump beast to use him as a tool in their investigation. "We'll put the cat back on his face."

The tension was growing naturally. It only grew more intense as her friend made a few steps towards the door as if making sure no one would leave the room until the mystery would be solved. Frightening.

George was both optimistic and serious at the same time. He tried to protect his friend from Meenauh's inhuman violent experimenting on Jake. But what he suggested instead meant that he wanted to kill his friend, not less. The suggestion may have been a joke to decrease the tension, but the matter was too serious for Meenauh. Considering how many things were strange, dangerous and frightening on the grounds of the school, a small mystery like that could be a barely noticeable hint to things much larger in scale than one could possibly imagine.

The mystery boy went quiet. The bits of words he tried to pronounce seemed to be indistinguishable from sobbing. The earlier set of remarks from Xailah were intimidating as hell. Interrogating the little child as a criminal would only do worse. There are worse things a child may be frightened to tell others. Some dark secret they are afraid to speak of. Thank god that possibly no child in the room have experienced anything even close to that darkness.

But, indeed, the boy seemed like the one who needed to speak up. For his own safety. For his own sanity.

"Come on, George, you don't want to do this neither to Jake nor Schrödinger," she started to talk, and then she lowered her eyes to the same level with Jake, by getting on her knees near the chair, "Listen, Jake. I feel this is serious. You seem to be very afraid of something and, honestly, everyone in the room feels that," she assumed, — then a pause, a breath, "But, really, is there something that you are afraid to talk about? If you don't want to talk to us, maybe you can tell George? We just want to help, really. What happened to you?"

@Meenauh Silmataurea @George Henry @Xailah Alptraum

The moments after Meenaugh touched his cheek seemed to last a lifetime.

Jake was rooted to his chair. Even his fidgeting stopped, for a moment. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Xailah spoke to him. Asked for a confession. Brought up his quivering voice.

"B-but," the little Hufflepuff uttered, unable to stop the shaking in his voice. The trembling of his lips. The words were there, but stuck, unable to come out. His hand shook, robes clutched between white knuckles.

George came to his defense. 'He hasn't done anything,' he said - but George couldn't have been more wrong. Jake knew he was wrong. The bigger badger inspected him, looking at his face. Jake stared back. What would George see there? What would he know? The plan to put a cat back on his face drew no protests. Jake was beyond words.

Meenauh lowered herself to his level, and it was her eyes he met last. Jake didn't blink, looking into the older girl's face. She wanted to know if there was something he was afraid to tell them. Slowly, Jake nodded his head, swallowing. He looked up at George... his bunkmate. If there was anybody he could tell it would be him. They were all watching now. Waiting.

"There...there was..." the small boy whispered, the hiss of his breath cutting through the silence. He was trembling. Meenaugh held him in her gaze and he couldn't find the strength to look away. "I-I..." he tried to speak. His mouth was dry. If he told them all - the things he was afraid of, the things that had happened, the things he was hiding - maybe they could make them go away. George or the bigger kids or someone. They could help him. He just had to speak it aloud. When he started he wouldn't be able to stop, he knew. The words would pour out, and tears too, but then... but then maybe...maybe it'd be over. He needed it to be over. He couldn't take any more. Not another night. Not another second. She had knelt down to coax the truth out of him. Frightened eyes pleaded quietly, needing her to succeed. "I was w-walking, and... I..."

Suddenly, something inside him spoke louder. Jake tried to ignore... to block it out... but it could hear. (It? He?) And it wasn't happy. Jake's mouth opened, but his words stuck in his throat, and suddenly everybody around him were dangers. Threats. "I gotta go." the scared first-year mumbled breathlessly, and then he came unstuck...hopped off the chair and ran. He ran, trying to dart around the girl blocking the door. He didn't know where he was running to.

Just far, far away.