The search begins PV Mikey Forville

Since​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ breakfast, the wind had gotten stronger, throwing little curls of mist over the area and pulling at Mikey's hair as he walked along the edge of the forest. Hands deep in his pockets, his head slightly lowered, he was still holding the weird letter that had been folded neatly in his robes. He did not open it partly because the handwriting on the envelope was familiar and partly because…well, he was not ready for it.

He kept on walking. The sort of walk that is normally done to clear one's mind and, at the same time, avoid one's thoughts. He had met a few students here and there, but the forest, as always, was quieter and calmer. until all of a sudden, it was not.

Initially, he assumed the sound was the wind whistling through the trees. However, upon further thought, he realized that it was a singing voice. Mikey stopped, perplexed, and followed the voice until he found a girl crouching among a heap of orange and gold colored leaves, speaking to herself and the leaves like an investigator at a crime scene. He was watching her for a while, feeling both amused and a little intrigued, before he decided to ask about what was happening.

"Excuse me," he spoke softly, his voice reaching just enough to be heard over the wind, "but if you are taking on the role of 'lost woodland spirit,' then you are definitely doing a good job." When she faced him, he realized he didn't know her. She must be one of the new first years. "You look like you lost something. Want some help?"

He came forward a few steps, feigning great seriousness, and looked around the ground. Dragging his glove back through some moist leaves, he then looked at her with a smile. "I'm Mikey. What are we hunting for?"

The leaf that was stuck in her hair started to flutter, and then the leaf that had come off landed between them. "If it's something as little as this," he said, pointing at the leaf, "we might be here for a while." He was only joking with her. Maybe, he thought, if he helped someone else to find what they had lost, then he might be able to find his own lost thing as ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌well.

✵ Jrue Aberdeen Peterson ✵ mentions ~ @Mikey Forville speech ~ #4b6075

An abrupt voice, stark contrast to the stillness of the forest jolted Jrue’s attention away from the leaves and lost book for but a moment. Standing in front of her was a Ravenclaw. He hadn’t been on the boats to Hogwarts, so he must’ve been in the year above her.

He was taller than her, with fluffy brown hair that covered just his forehead. He greeted her with a soft smile, his eyes a bright blue that blinked expectantly. She folded her hands neatly in front of her, leaves sticking to the hem. “if you are taking on the role of 'lost woodland spirit,' then you are definitely doing a good job."

Jrue let out a soft, airy laugh, brushing her hand against her forehead. ‘ ‘ I am that shrude and knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow,’ ‘ She curtsied, quoting her favorite play. She smiled at the boy. ’ ‘ No, I didn’t lose something, ‘ ‘ She gestured at the leaves. ’ ‘ at least not here..’ ‘ She bit her cheek.

Mikey. She’d seen him around campus before, but had never had the chance to talk to him. ’ ‘ I scrapbook, and was collecting stuff for my latest spread, when all of a sudden, poof! My Scrapbook disappeared. I hope I left it in my dorm, I don’t know what I’d do without it.’ ‘ Shaking her head, she reached down to the leaves again and pushed a few about.

’ ‘ I’m Peterson. Jrue, that is. Not Peterson. That’s my last name- ‘ ‘ She brushed another leaf out of her hair. ‘ ‘ If it were a single leaf we were looking for I’d have given up hours ago. Can you image- ‘ ‘She giggled, stifling the laughter by burying her nose in her scarf. ‘ ‘ Anyhow, my book had rounded edges, and a little leather and gold tassel and clasp. It’s brown though, so good luck to the both of us finding it here… ‘ ‘ She pursed her lips again, smiling at this witty boy

Mikey’s‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ smile turned into a grin at the curtsy. “Robin Goodfellow, was it? Well… I’ll be the unlucky mortal who has to give the sprite a favor.” With a grand bow that would have made Shakespeare groan he straightened up, eyes scanning the carpet of leaves. He took off his satchel and placed it on a tree stump. “First order of business. We’ll do a sweep I guess. Small grids, two steps at a time. Very official. Very search party like.”

He got down on the ground next to her and raised his wand. “Promise I won’t set fire to your collage.” A quick breath followed, then, “Lumos.” Little light through the leaf-litter, turning the edges into tiny gold rims. “Alright, Puck,” he said, half-jokingly, “we flip sections on my count. If anything jumps out, it’s probably just a pissed off beetle.” He tapped a square of leaves with his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The heap moved slowly, rustling, and twigs hanging like fishing line. Mikey moved his hand across the soil beneath. There were some small stones, a lost button, a very unhappy worm, but no book. He tucked the leaves back gently into place.

“Not a thing so far. But after this, we’ll follow your trail back. Retrace steps and all that.” The sun was still shining through the clouds, but it looked like it might lose the battle at any minute now. “Let’s get moving before it changes its mind and October weather comes.” He moved two steps to the right. “Grid two. Let’s do it?” Another careful lift of the leaves, another sweep. “If we don’t find it here, I bet we’ll find it in the most obvious place. Bag, bench by the path, even your common room.”

A moment later, he saw that her knuckles were dirty and wet. Trying not to make a big deal of it, he took a mostly clean napkin from his pocket and offered it to her. He looked over at a tangle of ferns. Near a root, something shone in dull gold. Mikey stopped, a smile appearing on his face. It was too far to tell what it was, but he figured it was worth investigating.

[quote] “How unlucky? Oh but to be in my presence is an honor and a privilege-“ Jrue said smugly, smiling the entire time she spoke. She watched the boy drop his stuff, pull out his wand, and instruct her on the search party. “A search party? How grand and official for something so silly as a book.” She puffed up her cheeks, face pink and cold from the outdoor air.

She watched him speak an incantation, hand flicking precisely and evenly as he casted his spell. At being called Puck, Jrue chuckled softly, not hating the silly joke all too much. She watched the leaves float, using her thumb to attempt to remove at least a little bit of the ground’s remnants off of her hands.

”You don’t even understand how horribly and irrevocably embarrassed I’d be…” Jrue shivered jokingly, splaying her hands out in a ‘stop’ manner. She smiled. It was true, but she wouldn’t die from embarrassment… hopefully.

As he handed her the little napkin, Jrue smiled, tilting her head downwards slightly so he wouldn’t see her constant smiley nature. He was being so kind and outgoing, it warmed her heart. But the dirt would ruin it! ”I feel horrible, it’s goin to stain, Mikey. I insist, let me buy you a new one!”

She tilted her head at the boy. She’d just started letting him help her, and didn’t even realize, they were complete strangers. He didn’t need to go out of his way to help her! “Mikey, this is too much. It shouldn’t be your problem to worry about my book! It’s really not necessary-“ She felt embarrassed now, having accepted his help so quickly. She kicked at a pile of leaves, following him as they moved in the box pattern.

When he stopped at the group of trees, she blinked, looking around. Jrue was a little bit of a clueless little cloud, just floating around. “I don’t even know anything about you. I’m embarrassed-“ She leaned against the tree he’d been staring at, throwing a hand over her forehead.

Mikey​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ was one of those people who could take any joke, and seeing her one hand thrown over her forehead as if she’d just fainted in a play, he couldn’t stop the soft laugh that escaped him. “Are you really embarrassed?” he said, with eyebrow raising and a little laugh. “There is really nothing to be embarrassed about.” He got down beside her and with the help of his wand shifted a curl of leaf that had been brought down by the wind while giving her a smile. “And yes, Puck. It is your name now, I don’t make the rules. Shakespeare does.”

When she was thinking about the napkin that she might have stained, Mikey looked down and chuckled again, noticing the dirt on the cloth, and decided to put her at ease. “Are you serious? This thing has been through an Herbology lesson, Quidditch mud, and one hard day in Potions where things just had to explode.”

With a casual wave of his wand and the incantation “Scourgify.” The napkin was changed immediately, it was clean, fresh, and very bright white. “There,” he said, with a playful gesture, presenting it one more time. “Good as new. One less thing to be embarrassed about, Puck.” Mikey left her no chance to say no to the help he offered. Instead, he gently bumped her in the shoulder with his own. “And before you start spiraling, helping you isn’t too much. It’s just… helping. People do that here. Well, some of us do.” His smile got wider. “Besides, I was going around here not wanting to think, so in fact, you’ve saved me from getting stuck inside my head.”

Mikey adjusted his scarf to loosen it. All the talking and movement was doing wonders for warming him up. He stepped toward the tangle of ferns again, pushing a branch aside with his boot. “Anyway,” he added, glancing back at her with that mischievous grin, “running around a forest searching for a scrapbook with someone who may or may not want my help is way better than sitting alone thinking about… well, things.” He paused, letting the sentence trail off before it got heavy, then brightened as he crouched again. “So if today’s mission is rescuing your book, Puck, then I’d say we’re doing pretty brilliantly so far."

[quote] "A bit, yeah.." She scratched the back of her neck, leaning back onto one leg. She cleared her throat, eyes darting around a bit. "I never ever lose stuff, so this is highly embarrassing for me. Honest, last time I lost something was probably a tooth-" She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head.

She'd only ever been called Jue Jue Bee, by her father. Nicknames were totally silly and new to her. But again, she didn't hate it. "Gee, thanks Shakespeare-" The edges of her mouth curved up into a pleased little smile. As he waved his wand at the handkerchief, she folded her fingers up under her oversized sweater, smiling. She totally forgot about that spell! Her mother used it on her budgies' cage all the time. Now she felt silly.

“And before you start spiraling, helping you isn’t too much. It’s just… helping. People do that here. Well, some of us do.” Huh... Back home, Jrue was mostly left to her own devices. Sure, her parents would hire people to help on the farm, or clean the house when they were busy. But if she needed something she could generally figure out how to do it on her own. As the boy bumped her shoulder, she blinked at him.

"Oh dear, I wouldn't want you getting stuck in your head," she paused to clear her throat, "terrible idea. I never recommend it. What could have you so caught up?" She crossed her arms, nudging more leaves with her feet. Mikey was, despite nothing but kind and helpful, obviously preoccupied with his thoughts.

As he kept charming the chunks and piles of leaves, Jrue leaned down, eyeing a little patch of wilted wildflowers, each barely the length of three inches. She plucked three, tucking one behind her ear and holding the other two between her fingers. They were leaned over and a bit dry, but nonetheless beautiful. She wrapped the smaller one around her pinky, tying off the end to make a delicate ring of sorts.

She stood up and trailed her feet through the bunches of leaves, leading herself over to Mikey. As he spoke, she took his right hand and tied the other white little flower around his pinky, her two front teeth resting on her lip as she finished the knot. She smiled, her cheeks cold and stinging from the outside air. She turned around to sift through more leaves, poking at them with her wand (whom knew no spells as of yet)

Mikey‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ looked at the small flower circle that was now tied around his pinky with surprise, changing on his face from shock to a smile. “Well,” he said in a low voice while looking at his hand, “this is definitely the fanciest my pinky has ever looked.” He smiled at Jrue’s turned back and wiggled the finger once. “Thank you, Puck,” he said.” The question she asked a moment before was still there amongst the leaves. ‘What could have you so caught up?’ Mikey changed position, his boot hitting a small stone as he bent down again to move more leaves with his wand.

“Ah, that,” he said with a light tone, but his eyes showed something uncomfortable. “Just… letter stuff. From home.” He gave a little shrug with his eyes on the ground instead of her face. “You know how it is. Sometimes owls bring good news, and sometimes they bring things you were sort of hoping to be left alone”. He did it with a smile, but after a moment of silence, he got rid of the heaviness with the same gesture. “Nothing dangerous. No curse or long lost evil twin. Just… complicated grown-up things. Very boring. Much less interesting than the saving of a scrapbook from the clutches of the forest.”

He pointed at another square of leaves. “Wingardium Leviosa.” They rose, moved, and settled again in a new patch, this time only twigs and a beetle that walked away as if it had somewhere better to be. “Still nothing,” he sighed. “I am starting to believe that your scrapbook has become alive and has gone abroad, maybe to France.” They continue doing the same thing for a little while more him carefully removing sections of leaves with his wand, Jrue looking with her wand and her boot and the two of them not quite figuring out each other but moving through the woods together.

The sky had changed from light grey to something darker, and now and then a few cold gusts came down Mikey’s neck. He exhaled, seeing it briefly fog in front of him. “Tell you what,” he said finally, getting up and brushing the dirt off his knees, “we’ve covered a pretty decent chunk of this forest floor. If it is here that it is hiding, then it must be doing it really well.” He looked at her with a sorry smile. “I don’t want to keep you out here until you actually freeze. Maybe check your dorm, common room, that sort of thing? If you have a routine, it might be there, the most obvious place, laughing at us.” He reached down for his satchel on the stump and threw it over his shoulder. The weird envelope inside made a soft sound when it moved, but he didn’t pay attention to it.

“Look, if you don’t see it in the castle, let me know, alright? I am free most evenings after dinner. We can do Round Two if you need assistance.” After that, he stepped a few steps backward between the trees, a small wave with his flower-ringed pinky his way of saying goodbye. “Good luck, Puck.”

Mikey was walking back to the path, which was between the roots and fallen branches, when he decided to put his gaze to the nice warm castle that he thought he would be glad to be in shortly. The wind was chilly and was lapping at his ears. His toe, however, was on something solid and thus, he tripped. He fell forward in a very undignified manner, a very undignified flail was part of it, and only his hands saved him from making a faceplant on the ground.

Leaves flew all over the place around him in a crunchy little circle. For a moment he just lay there and stared at a particularly judgmental mushroom. “Brilliant,” he said to the dirt in a low voice. He turned and glared at the offending root with one eye while shifting onto one knee. Only, it wasn’t a root. Half of the corner of something brown and worn was under the leaves, and a tiny bit of dull gold was gleaming at him from underneath a smear of mud. Mikey’s eyes got very big. “You’re kidding me.”

Both of his hands pushed leaves aside, revealing a book that he recognized, with rounded edges and a little leather and gold clasp, now a little bit dirty but still there. One of the leaves that had been pressed slipped out from between two pages and flew down onto his leg. He picked up the scrapbook gently, got up, and turned around with it. “Puck!” he ‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌shouted.

[quote] "Much less interesting than the saving of a scrapbook from the clutches of the forest..." This was one of Jrue's pet peeves. She didn't let the boy see it, but when other people diminished their problems by saying hers or anyone else's were worse, she got real annoyed. She could tell something had him preoccupied. And if Jrue didn't know the looming frustration of home problems, nobody did.

Her grandfather on her dad's side had gotten very sick recently, beginning of 2025. It was a sunny spring weekend. Her dad was on a work trip to Ireland, research on pediatric illness prevention, and her mother was in England, tending to the shop. She didn't hear from them for a few days, which was pretty standard, but unexpectedly received an owl from the pair bearing news of his declined health. She couldn't drive, being only 11, and the Nanny was instructed to keep her home and tend to her needs. It sent her spiraling for days. There was nothing to do but worry and panic until her parents came home from Bristol.

His health had gotten a bit better. He was at home now, with her Nan, praise the heavens. She didn't know what she'd do without them. She liked talking through problems, they made her soul feel light and warm. When her mother was upset, sitting and talking made them feel more connected, at ease. She didn't know this boy too well, but maybe she could help his soul feel a bit lighter.

"I think my scrapbook is far too average for France. She's pretty basic, more a United States lass..." She chuckled, shaking her head as she wrapped her hands around her elbows. As the cold wind chilled them both, she was starting to lose hope as well. I mean, it was just a notebook, Jrue was sure she had more at home. Absolutely sure, in fact. She had two sitting on the shelf above her desk. But this one she liked. It had pictures she loved, and receipts and flowers from her favorite spots. It made her happy having here at Hogwarts. Mikey was right, however. It was cold and far too dark to find it now. Plus, she didn't want to lose house points over a silly notebook.

"Farewell thou, lob of spirits-" She smiled at him with a modest little wave, her hand shy and close to her torso. Turning around to grab her satchel off of a shallow planted root, ruffing up more leaves as she bobbed her head up and down, she hummed to herself a made up tune. As she picked up her little brown bag, Jrue heard a loud kerfuffle in the distance, and whipped herself around, her white scarf thwacking her in the face. Mikey was now face down on the ground, helping himself up as Jrue rushed over, leaves swirling around behind her in a cyclonic manner.

"Mikey! God, you've fallen!" She spoke in a panic stricken manner, hair bouncing into place as she stopped in her tracks at his side. "I know CPR- wait, no, you're fine- Are you in shock? Lie down on your side-" Rambling out symptoms and cures, she actually took the time to look down at him right as he muttered to himself, the leaves rustling about and settling as she spotted what he'd found.

My Scrapbook! "Blimey! You've found it!" Jrue exclaimed, her hands latched to her face. She hopped up and down, shooting her hands into the air as she spun herself in circles, the Mikey shaped imprint in the ground replaced as more leaves and dirt were brushed around from her celebratory dance. Right as he stood up, Jrue was turning around, almost falling onto the boy as he held the book out.

"You saint! Angel! Divine creature!" She praised, a leaf falling onto her head. She didn't brush it off, her skin too tingly with relief and excitement to notice. She fluttered her lashes, brushing the dirty cover with the end of her scarf and snatching it from Mikey, clutching it close to her chest. She didn't care about grime or the frightened and confused ladybug that buzzed away from the leather book. "Now I feel stupid! There must be something I can do for you! A Galleon at least, or-"

Jrue's mind instantly flashed back to the two's prior conversation. His letter from home- she thought, her gaze flickering from the leaves between their feet to the boys soft expression on his face. She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking tenderly, "You know.. sometimes talking about the uh... 'grown up things', that preoccupy our brains, and hearts, makes us feel a loooot better..."

She watched his face briefly for some expression or response, even if he didn't verbalize it. "But like, if not it's fine- you'll just magically find that Lady Rowena snuck 6 or so galleons and a few chocolate frogs onto your pillow before you go to bed-" Jrue shrugged her shoulders, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She bobbled up and down on her heels, the air now feeling thick and heavy in her lungs and on her arms.

Mikey​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ was still vigorously dusting his coat with great gestures when Jrue’s words finally sank in with him. 'You saint! Angel! Divine creature!' He laughed, snorting; his cheeks were both rosy from the cold and embarrassment. “Maybe divine creature is a little over the top,” he said, extending the scrapbook to her as if it were some priceless artifact. “I was just dramatically losing a fight with the ground you know.”

However, the way she hugged the book to her chest made his smile widen. There were some leaves stuck on the cover and a bit of mud smeared across the leather but it was obvious that the book was really loved. “I’m glad that you have it back, Puck,” he said. “It would have been quite unfortunate if the forest kept it. I don’t think it’s really into scrapbooking the way you are.”

The idea of her suggesting they talk was still hanging in the air between them. He moved his satchel a bit higher on his shoulder and felt the letter under his side crinkling. He was unsure of himself, but still gave her a small smile. “You’re not wrong,” he said, looking down at a heap of leaves and scraping his boot against them. “Talking does help. Eventually.” He looked at her for a very short moment and then looked down again. “I’m just… not quite at the ‘put it into proper sentences’ stage yet.

He tried to joke it off, but couldn't think of something clever to say. “But it means a lot that you offered. Really. Makes it feel a bit less heavy knowing there’s someone around who’d listen, even if I’m being a coward about it for now.” He moved his finger with the flower slightly and gave it a gentle wiggling movement. “Tell you what, when I feel like talking about it, I will come find you. Deal?”

Before he could get too serious with himself, he stood straight and looked at the sky. The clouds had grown heavier and the light coming through them was a dull grey. The wind put its cold fingers along the back of his neck once more, and he tried to get rid of it by adjusting his scarf. “Anyway,” he said, a little mist coming out of his mouth as he breathed, “if we’re staying here any longer, one of us is really going to become a ghost of the woods.”

He was looking towards the castle, not very far away, with the warm windows just barely visible between the trees, when he said, “How about this?” His tone turning lighter as he went on, “I accompany you back to the castle, making sure that the tree roots that want to kill you don’t take their revenge on me, and then you promise that I won’t be able to faceplant again. You’ve already shown that you’re really good at saving in emergencies.”

His eyes shining with humour, he said, “Basically, you were almost going to give me CPR before I’d even finished falling. That’s dedication.” Mikey started walking down the path for a couple of steps but then stopped and looked at her again. “Apart from that,” he said softly, “you’ve been out here a long time. You are surely in need of some nice hot chocolate, or tea, or whatever it is that Hufflepuffs drink when they’ve just had a close call with a scrapbook disaster.”