𝕿𝖍𝖊 door to this room is locked, though only just. A basic unlocking charm could defeat the mechanism, a quiet embarrassment to whatever proud locksmith had crafted it. [Requires ownership of an unlocking charm and meeting the unlocking DC. Members of the bridal party and immediate members of the Athanatos family have a key.] This private space was not a room intended to hide secrets, but it harbored some all the same. Beyond the threshold, this private room exuded comfort, but the sort of comfort curated for display. Expensive, deliberate, a testament to luxury and excess. This space was just a touch too perfect to be sincere, like Winnie with a lot less pink and red.

The furnishings in this room were basic. A pair of matching chaise lounges in pale blue flanked the room, each chaise was adorned with a pair of frilly pink pillows that looked like they had never been touched. A fine floral pattern was stitched into the pillows by a nameless skilled hand. Everything in the room was soft-edged and color-coordinated, like a painting meant to calm the nerves before a grand unveiling. Yet there was something unsettling in the perfection. There was nothing living in this private corner, where roses clung to every wall and their scent filled the air, there was an absence here. Here it was familiar and clean, but comparatively wrong. The lingering aroma of amber and wood rather than rose, a man's cologne perhaps. Life would go on outside this room. The ball, full of chatter, music and noise. Fireflies flitting over the dewy grass outside the window.

In the northeast corner sat a polished side table of pale wood, the wood to hard for pine and too pale for maple or cherry, its legs elegantly curved. Atop it rested a single crystal decanter filled with a rich crimson liquid and a pair of wine glasses. Wine perhaps, though the scent that clung to the air was sharper, spicier, almost laced with fruit and heat. Whatever it was, it promised potency. Liquid courage perhaps. The bride would need this as she joins the Athanatos family.

On the southern wall, a curtained window looked out onto the front lawn through gossamer curtains but those outside could not look in. Still, a small cloud of fireflies hovered above a thorny bush as if they were desperate to steal a glance inside the inner workings of this room. This was a room meant for the inner circle: the bride, the groom, their closest attendants. A space designed for whispered secrets, last-minute touch-ups, or private moments too fragile for the ballroom's relentless gaze. And for the moment, this room was empty until you entered.

Opeila left the ballroom that, after everything that she had seen and heard today, felt way too crowded and full of potential enemies.
Besides... "We have to talk.", was all she would tell Cassius for now. First she had to find a place where they could be alone.

Would Cassius be able to make sense of her vision? Probably not. Before it hit her, Cassius seemed not unsettled by the entire thing at all, not even the vows. Vladimir. Once again she wished Vladimir had been there. He surely would at least have an idea. Matt was his relative, who would know better what was going on in that family? She would have to find the former Ravenclaw later.

Opeila walked down a corridor, ignoring the first couple of doors behind which she could hear voices, until she eventually pulled on one that was locked. Her first instinct was to move on, do the polite thing and find an open room. This one was clearly not meant for guests.
... which also meant they would probably get some privacy here.
Opeila drew her wand. In the little bag which she carried a few potions in, she had also stored her locksmith knife, but for now she would try the basic way.

Quickly she looked around to make sure they weren't watched. "Alohomora!" If she succeded, she would pull Cassius inside with her, close the door and lock it again.

Private Space
Augury Cloister

The Ravenclaw had remained silent ever since they stepped into the green flames and transported themselves to the locale of the reception. He was concerned. Concerned for Opeila and whatever had happened. Instinctively, his free hand rested on the ‘pommel’ of his wand sheathed within the side pocket of his slacks. Did someone harm her? Threaten her? Should he be expecting an attack? Unlikely but not impossible.

"We have to talk." Opeila said to him finally after a time.

"Alright. Let’s find somewhere private. There must be a room or closet here somewhere. Preferably a room."

Under normal circumstances that might have been an invitation to step away and steal some kisses, but these were not normal circumstances. Something had clearly terrified his girlfriend.

They searched the corridors for rooms where they could step away from the gathering crowd. The place was expansive, an imposing piece of architecture built near the edge of the cliff to the sea below. What really was this place?

The Augury Cloister.

Cassius sounded it out in his mind, hoping his inner voice might trigger a memory or some knowledge of the place. The name was familiar and it was clearly old. Perhaps something in a history book he had read somewhere?

After a short time the pair managed to find a door. Locked.

As Opeila withdrew her wand to cast the unlocking charm, Cassius turned his back to her and glanced both ways down the corridor, a willing accomplice to the crime and guard against curious eyes. Such criminality by the former prefect would have been unimaginable two years ago. Now, he was no longer shackled by such a strict adherence to ethics.

Action: Attempting to recall any information and lore about the Augury Cloister.

Stats & Items

Reducio

CHARACTER STATS
Stamina 11 - Evasion 15 - Strength 0 - Wisdom 20 - ArcPower 10 - Accuracy 14

ABILITIES
Advanced Casting | Perfectionist | Perfectionist II | Spell Spread | Wandmaker |
Occlumency | Wandless Magic

ITEMS
Wand, Invisibility Cloak, Locksmith's Knife

@Opeila Winters

In the Augury Cloister's private room door was locked. Naturally. The private room was meant for the wedding party, the bride, the groom and perhaps their more dramatic parents when they needed to slip away from the wine-stained chatter of the reception. A room intended for lace and silence, not secrets. But locks, like boundaries, were made for @Opeila Winters to ignore.

Unlocking Charm
Roll: 19

Opeila did not ponder the moral ramifications for very long or possibly at all. She barely paused before casting the charm, wand raised with the sort of ease that made rebellion look like tradition. if the door was unlocked, the narrator would be left to wonder if she would have felt drawn to the room at all. Probably not.

“Alohomora,” Opeila muttered, and something clicked inside the brass knob. A small mechanical surrender. The bolt slid back with a dry snap, and Opeila pulled Cassius inside.

A locked room, an empty room, a darkened room. Most boys might have let hope bloom like blush on a cute girl's cheeks. This meant something, didn’t it? Yeah. Kissy time, right?

Wrong. Not with Opeila. No action. No romance. Just dread. The narrator's specialty.

@Cassius Eden wasn’t ignorant. As a pureblood, Cassius had heard of the Augury Cloister. Every child of influence and breeding had at least the sanitized version recited during formal dinners and society lectures. That this place, perched atop a coastal cliff like a saint’s crown, was a revered site of prophecy and magical history. A private estate for diviners and Seers. A place that whispered futures for a fee. The famed Athanatos family stood in the center of Seer society and this was their crowned jewel. Honestly, the site was humble when one considered their alleged wealth. looking at a place such as this, while nice, grand even, it lacked the sense of excess imagination often suggested.

But Cassius had also heard the other version. The one you didn’t repeat at balls, but sometimes you can hear the older folk talk about. Something darker, not as palatable or as civilized.

Wisdom Check:
Roll: 5 (Modifier: +20)

Cassius likely heard it in hushed conversations between uncles and unspoken glances passed across darkened drawing rooms during holidays. The public knew of the Cloister’s elegance. But some families, like Cassius’s, remembered what had come before it. Long before the Cloister stood with its ivory walls and enchanted windows, this land was a place of twisted worship and dark prophecy.

Those who came first, they weren’t priestesses... At least not in any sense the Ministry would recognize. These women were something else, something feral in doctrine and purpose but awesome in their power. The first of them was called the Augurine, a woman said to speak to stars and sea in a dialect of bone and blood. Their rites were not offerings but transactions, sacrifice was the currency. Prophecy came through pain, and pain was considered divine. Lessons touched on the subject, but in the modern era splanchnomancy and nigromancy were not considered palatable.

There were rumors about a place at the edge of the world, where the rock met water. The mouth below. The waiting maw. Rituals were held at moonrise when the tide would swell like breath before a scream. Elders would describe how during rituals saltwater and blood ran together on the altar stone. How they read futures in viscera, and how steam curled off crimson-stained granite. These women weren’t feared because they were dark. They were feared because they were right and it hurt.

Eventually, a noble house tried to command, to built over it. They “purified” the rites with coin and walls, carved windows into the sacred dark, gagged the maw, and made prophecy something you could schedule. They called it 'civilization.' They called the family, Athanatos.

Now the Augury Cloister is a place to buy fate, to try to change fate, a place to make fate their own. A seaside estate for the wealthy and the jaded, with catered canapés, exclusive ceremonies, and just enough magic to feel elite. The glowing runes are now “decorative.” The glass windows don’t show silhouettes of saints, but rather constellations twisted to favor whichever family pays most. There was a sense of sanitation that was not quite effective. As if they tried to scrub away the blood, but when they failed they threw a throwrug over the stains.

Thief, peacock, what did it matter? What did any of it really matter? Opeila only heard the satisfying sound of the lock opening, pushed the door open and pulled Cassius inside with her. Yes, maybe she was misbehaving in public and she had probably not heard the last of it, but visions had a unique way of putting things into perspective. Breaking into a locked room was wrong. Child weddings were wrong. The priest, the groom, the entire ceremony had been wrong. If two wrongs didn't make a right, in this case, Opeila found that three wrongs certainly did.

As soon as the door fell closed behind them, the Slytherin let go of Cassius' hand and walked across the room. Initially she had been grateful for his proximity but now... now she needed to regain her composure, air to breathe, room to sort her thoughts that seemed to ripple as the black water. The seconds passed as Opeila seemed to spiral in silence, fingers brushing through her white hair, green eyes scanning the room aimlessly.

Opeila had wanted to tell Cassius what she had seen from the beginning. Step by step, calm, coherent. Instead the words seemed to break free of their own volition. "I saw him dead. Mathias." Her voice sounded raw, as though she had really screamed at someone. "And the priest, he-" She couldn't continue. If Cassius made any attempts to cross the room, she would raise a hand, motioning him to stay where he was. Opeila couldn't be comforted now. If Cassius touched her now, she knew she would shut down.
She couldn't shut down.

"I- I am not crazy."
Hell, Opeila felt crazy. She barely believed herself. The Slytherin hadn't kept her seer powers a secret in years and she had told Cassius as well, but... but he had never seen her lose it like this. Had she ever lost it like this?

The silence between them once again became deafening.

"It was a vision. I was... in the dark, at the shore of a black sea. There were... moons, six or seven and the priest was there." Opeila's eyes were fixed on the floor, as she spoke. Looking at something motionless had helped her focus in the past, when her thoughts were all over the place. With her gaze, she traced the pattern, while she tried to remember the details. "There were hands coming out of the water and I tried to run away. He grabbed my shoulder and said something, uh... The mirror shows no future. Only the memory of what could not be buried."

Opeila shuddered at the memory, automatically rubbing her shoulder again, trying to rid herself of the ghost of his touch. "Then I was back at the cathedral, but... You were all stone statues. Lysander and Annika too, they must have tried to snap me out of it, but as statues they had trapped me there. Mathias was dead. Winnie was a child. And the priest- He was laughing. There was blood on his robe." Her voice broke, an echo of the terror she had felt in the moment.

Opeila's eyes were swimming with tears when she looked up at Cassius. "I am not going crazy." She drew a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around herself. "I- I am not."

Private Space
Augury Cloister

Cassius followed Opeila into the previously locked room. The soon-to-be senior hoped that to any eavesdroppers on the outside, they simply appeared to be two lovers seeking a seclusion to share a private moment apart from the main festivities. It was a far better narrative than the truth.

Opeila was scared, that much he could understand as she released his hand and paced to the far side of the room. He tried to follow after her but he stopped when she motioned for him to stay where he was. He felt helpless and unsure what to do. There was no manual for how to be a supportive boyfriend and he could hardly claim to have a surplus of experience with even being a good friend. Worse, he was beginning to remember.

This place was old and it was powerful.

“I saw him dead. Mathias. And the priest, he– I am not crazy.” She began to explain.

“You are not crazy. Not at all,” Cassius said with a look of concern and worry in his eyes, hoping the warm tone would have a comforting effect. Truthfully he had no idea if she was crazy or not. He could only assume this was something to do with her gift as a Seer. A vision? “Hey, I’m here. It will be okay. Can you tell me what happened next?”

“It was a vision. I was… in the dark, at the shore of a black sea. There were… moons, six or seven and the priest was there. There were hands coming out of the water and I tried to run away. He grabbed my shoulder and said something, uh... The mirror shows no future. Only the memory of what could not be buried."

She continued, rubbing her shoulder with discomfort.

"Then I was back at the cathedral, but... You were all stone statues. Lysander and Annika too, they must have tried to snap me out of it, but as statues they had trapped me there. Mathias was dead. Winnie was a child. And the priest- He was laughing. There was blood on his robe…. I am not going crazy, I- I am not.”

“Hey, listen to me. You are not crazy,” he repeated with a hopefully soothing tone, still unsure whether to approach his distressed girlfriend. “I don’t know about visions or anything having to do with the Sight but you saw something. That’s not insanity. That’s your gift telling you something, right?”

But what?

Cassius began to pace, unsettled but attempting to put on a brave face for Opeila. “There’s something I need to tell you about this place,” he would finally say, trying to organize his thoughts. “But first, so we are not interrupted… Colloportus!”

In one fluid motion, he attempted to cast the locking charm at the door, hoping it would provide them some warning if any newcomers attempted to enter – wedding party or otherwise. Even so, he lowered his voice before speaking further.

“This cloister… it’s built on something very old. A place of ancient ritual magic. Prophecies foretold and the price was pain. Sacrifice. I never paid much mind to the rumors but when you mentioned the shore of a black sea something clicked. There was something about a shore…” he struggled to recall, searching his mind for anything to do with the cloister. “Rituals held on the shore at moonrise. Water and blood covering a stone altar. A flesh sacrifice, and in the viscera of the subject a prophecy foretold.”

He shivered, the thought of such a thing unsettling him even more than he already was. Despite the uneasiness, there was also a slight degree of morbid curiosity. Well-masked but very much present.

"What if you foresaw something like one of those rituals? A... premonition maybe?" He was still unsure whether to approach Opeila. Whether she wanted the hug he so desperately wanted to give her. Did she want comfort or space?

"Hey, come here. Look at the windows," he began, gesturing for her to come while simultaneously pointing at the windows. "They're constellations. Do you see anything that looks like what you saw? Seven moons, right?"

Cassius surveyed the windows and iconography for anything that matched Opeila's description of the vision; and, if allowed, would pull Opeila into a reassuring hug as he did so.

Action: Casting Colloportus at the door.
Mundane Action: Searching the window designs for anything loosely matching the moons or scene from Opeila's vision.

Stats & Items

Reducio

CHARACTER STATS
Stamina 11 - Evasion 15 - Strength 0 - Wisdom 20 - ArcPower 10 - Accuracy 14

ABILITIES
Advanced Casting | Perfectionist | Perfectionist II | Spell Spread | Wandmaker |
Occlumency | Wandless Magic

ITEMS
Wand, Invisibility Cloak, Locksmith's Knife

@Opeila Winters

Over the years, being a seer had given Opeila an new appreciation for Cassandra of Troy, the prophet cursed to never be believed, shouting warnings while she watched her people head to their deaths. To be fair, no one ever disbelieved Opeila when she talked about her visions, but it was easy to dismiss the confusing, if the answers couldn't be found. Even easier if one was not the one who had seen it.
It had taken Opeila a while to accept that this was part of the package deal of being a seer- if people couldn't understand her prophecies, they would eventually move on and it would be up to her to remember. Opeila remembered them all.

“You are not crazy. Not at all.”

Maybe it was that what gave Opeila the courage to continue.
Cassius seemed to believe her. He listened. And his expression wasn't this polite mask Opeila had seen on the faces of people who tried to appear understanding for her sake. In fact, something seemed to click into place for him at her words.
“Hey, listen to me. You are not crazy. I don’t know about visions or anything having to do with the Sight but you saw something. That’s not insanity. That’s your gift telling you something, right?”
Opeila nodded. Sometimes she wondered if her gift was ever telling her a damn thing. Sometimes it seemed like all it did was haunt her. Yet she nodded.

Then Cassius locked the door- had she really forgotten to do that?- and started telling her what he knew about the cloister. Opeila started feeling dizzy.
One soul for the light, one for the dark, one to be bound, one to break.
The mirror shows no future.
Only the memory of what could not be buried.
Sacrifices on a stone altar.
"... The shore I stood on was black stone." Had she really been warned of a sacrifice? Her nausea became stronger and she regretted having run straight to this place without grabbing anything to drink.

Screw manners. Opeila headed for the wine table on the side, grabbed a glass and poured some of the red liquid into it. Downed it, despite the burning in her throat. Ugh, she didn't even like red wine much, but as there was no water around... Not forgetting her manners entirely, she drew her wand and pointed it at the glass. "Scourgify."
Then she turned to Cassius again. "Are they going to sacrifice Winnie and Mathias?", Opeila finally said her thoughts out loud. "I saw him dead."
One soul for the light, one for the dark, one to be bound, one to break.
Was this referring to two souls? ... Or four?
"Did you see what the priests robes said? About the souls? One light, one dark, one to be bound, one to break?", she asked, unaware that this information had only been revealed to the seers as well. "Winnie bound herself to Mathias. What if he is the one to break..."

Cassius pointed at the windows now, asking if she could see a resemblance. Internally, Opeila swore. With everything happening, she hadn't paid attention to the moons so much, hell, she wasn't even sure anymore if they were six or seven. She had to try at least.
The Slytherin crossed the room and stopped next to Cassius and tried to compare what she had seen with the constellation in the window. And finally she also allowed him to hug her. Opeila was so grateful that he was here, that he was helping her make sense of this... madness. Even if it became even greater madness, the more sense they made of it.

For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, breathed in his scent and tried to calm herself.

That wasn’t red wine. But it was red. And it was alcoholic. Opeila had low standards, this had been made apparent over the years. So upon seeing an abandoned decanter, unlabeled and unmanned, she decided to take of it.

She would find that the contents were stronger than the butterbeer students nursed at Hogsmeade, stronger than the fizzy cheer of giggle water sipped around crackling hearths during the holidays. Those were child’s potions by comparison. Certainly mildly intoxicating if taken in great enough volumes. This? This burned. It didn’t warm; it scorched. It slipped down Opeila’s throat like molten garnet, nestling into her stomach like a coiled spell waiting to go off.

Constitution Check (DC 20)
Strength: 19 (+4 strength) Pass
1-100 drunk scale: 13 Almost wholly sober

Opeila felt the heat rise in her cheeks, the curl of warmth in her head like the start of a dream. This wasn’t drunkenness. This was curated detachment. Self-medication, but make it haute couture. The kind of relaxation that didn’t ask permission. What she had just swallowed would have folded a grown wizard twice her size in half. But she wasn’t most people, and her liver seemed blessed by either the divine or the doomed.

For the sake of humor, seeing if our resident magical boy recognizes the drink.

Does Cassius know what she drank? (DC 20)
Roll: 13 (+20 wisdom) 33

Ruby Red. The devil in a decanter. It gleamed like liquid rubies, bottled danger. Technically legal. Technically. But intended to only be served in thimble-sized portions. It was the wizarding world’s version of Everclear with just enough charmwork to stay on the Ministry’s blind side. People had gone blind drinking it. Others had simply died. It wasn’t designed to be gulped.

And yet… Opeila greedily partook and... she was fine. Inexplicably, utterly fine.

She might even look mildly pleased. Enlightened, almost. barely tipsy Opeila was apparently smarter than sober Opeila, a tragic twist for everyone involved. She began rattling off observations about the ceremony with sudden clarity, connecting the design of the robes to her prophecy.



Cassius suggested looking out the window. Checking the sky. Opeila turned toward the window. She, no... more likely they would see a dark sky. Not night, but the kind of gloom that rolled in when something had gone terribly wrong. Rain had begun to whisper against the glass, too quiet to disguise the echo of screams that drifted from the ballroom just on the other side of the wall.

But what caught their breath wouldn't be the storm. The winds were picking up, the foliage was bowing. But what did not belong was the trio standing just outside the iron gates.

Two women, but their shapes were wrong. Their faces didn’t quite sit right. They were human-like, but only mostly. Symmetry fought against itself, features that almost belonged but didn’t, as though someone had built them from memory rather than experience.

And standing between them: a man. No, a giant. Or something like one. A man that was too large. Too calm. He looked at the building and he rushed towards the front door like a linebacker about to make a tackle.

Opeila and Cassius saw them first, the pair of women. They seemed odd. Eyes the wrong size, too dark. Lips too thin, mouths too large, their cheekbones and jawline exaggerated. A mimicry of humanity, too close but not close enough.

The pair moved with uncanny purpose toward the Augury, their forms gliding more than walking, like figures in a nightmare. The ever-confident August VanCleaf stepped forward to intercept, wand drawn, shoulders squared in that arrogant way he always stood. As if spells were a mere nuisance, not an actual threat. But ego alone would not be enough. Neither would power. The moment August VanCleaf raised his voice, the moment the auror's charm turned to command, the air shifted and the ladies' did not stop.

Then, to the right of the window came Finnegan Connor.

He fell, or landed, it was impossible to say from their perspective (and it still needs to be rolled). One moment, the space to the right of the window was empty, the next it was filled with a body. The angle, the height... it defied logic. Did Finn jump? Was he thrown? Even as (if) he rose to his feet, they weren’t sure he had ever touched the ground.

Inside, from beyond the Augury’s great carved doors, came a sound. First muffled cries. These belonged to the wizards for the most part: frantic, desperate. Then a guttural noise, like a giant’s warning growl. Something was moving in there and that something was big.

The crash that followed didn’t echo, it consumed the space. Wood split like bone. Glass didn’t just shatter, it screamed. And then something vast and solid met the floor with a finality that was felt in addition to being heard.

The force struck them through the soles of their shoes, traveling up their shins, twisting in their knees, climbing their spines like a thousand tiny fists. The air convulsed. The Augury's door bowed inward, just slightly, but enough to make clear: something massive had fallen against it.

And then, silence. The heavy kind. Pregnant and unnatural. Something terrible had happened.

Private Space
Augury Cloister

Ruby Red. An infamous drink with an infamous reputation... and Opeila had just chugged it.

Cassius waited for the inevitable. Would she vomit? Pass out? Stumble around the room? Any number of things could happen in the moments after consuming that much of a liquor just barely legal but to his surprise, nothing did.

Damn girl. The Ravenclaw was impressed. He had just tried a sip of Ruby Red in the past, his parents none the wiser to his looting of one of Barmishaw's liquor cabinets, and nearly vomited on the spot.

"You are so cool." He commented with an impressed grin, still slightly in shock at how well she handled the liquor.

"Are they going to sacrifice Winnie and Mathias? I saw him dead."

Who was they? The thought crossed Cassius' mind a few times since the revelation of the vision. He was here assuming Mathias was the villain, but if he was the sacrifice, then who would be the benefactor? "The value of a lesser son is negligible compared to the value of an heir. Especially if the heir is heir to a pureblood family like Athanatos." He was thinking out loud, voicing his thoughts as he wrestled with the possibilities. "What if Mathias was declared heir so he could fetch a higher price? And if that's the case then what does Thaddeus Athanatos hope to gain? I cannot think of anybody else who would benefit from such a sacrifice."

It was a possibility. Certainly not a definite but the only theory in his mind that made sense right now. Was this the fulfillment of a prophecy? Or the payment for a new one? As he glanced out the window hoping to find stars or a constellation that matched the vision, he felt Opeila lean against him. Until he felt her warmth against him he had not realized how cold and pale he had become. Though he refused to believe it, his body betrayed that he was scared.

Fear, however, was not cowardice and he pulled Opeila into a reassuring hug. As long as they were together, they were going to be alright.

"Hey, do you see that? He asked, gesturing out the window towards two feminine figures and one giant of a man. The women were odd. Wrong. Flawed imitations of human form. He felt sick in his stomach as he realized what they must be. Hags. Perhaps even the Augerine herself.

Cassius gasped as the latter began to charge at the augury doors. A wizard, maybe an auror, attempted to halt their advance to no avail. Then a familiar figure fell into view. From how high he could not tell but he knew exactly who it was: Finn.

"We need to get out there," Cassius said with an urgency in his voice. Whatever was happening could not be discovered from within this room. "I have my cloak. It will conceal us. Can you get the door?"

As Cassius unhooked the cloak that had been masquerading as a half-cape, he wondered if he ever told Opeila he had an invisibility cloak. It was not a secret -- per say -- but also not something he openly advertised. Tools of stealth lost their usefulness when everybody knew about them.

"And one more thing..."

Whatever was to happen next would no doubt be dangerous. Life-threatening possibly with the highest of stakes. If this was to be their last moment of peace together, he was going to make the best of it.

In a move worthy of a Medici sonnet, Cassius pulled Opeila into an embrace and a deep, passioned kiss. A kiss that said everything was going to be alright. That there was a sunny future to look forward to.

"I love you."

Action: Exiting through window to front lawn.
Mundane Action: Covering Cassius & Opeila with invisibility cloak.

Exiting the thread and (trying) to move to the Front Lawn.

Stats & Items

Reducio

CHARACTER STATS
Stamina 11 - Evasion 15 - Strength 0 - Wisdom 20 - ArcPower 10 - Accuracy 14

ABILITIES
Advanced Casting | Perfectionist | Perfectionist II | Spell Spread | Wandmaker |
Occlumency | Wandless Magic

ITEMS
Wand, Invisibility Cloak, Locksmith's Knife

@Opeila Winters