Absit Omen RPG

Dree frowned, trying not to let his irritation show, giving her a brief peck in exchange for her shimmy. "I thought that we weren't going to let him listen to that..." Not, at least, until it became an issue. If he ended up feeling left out in pre-school or wasn't fitting in because of it, they'd reassess. But he still had at least a year until that happened!

As soon as Akiva recommended the lie-down over the matter, however, Dree knew how this went. Akiva'd worry about every move he made until he at least made a display of humoring her. "I see," he said, pointing a finger in teasing accusation. "You almost had me, you know." At least he hoped that bit about Muggly was just a ploy. "Take in sounds fine, if you don't think it'll be too dark by the time we're done..." he said, wondering to himself if their barbeque utensils--the large spoons and other... sharp things--could be used to make holes in the sand. Dree had the good sense to avoid recommending anything from the kitchen be brought outside. Except perhaps the wood spoons? They came from nature anyhow. They could get that nice, natural, what was that word he'd heard someone used the last time they'd gone to buy vintage homegoods at the market... Ah! patina.

"I hate to waste the daylight hours when the weather's so nice." Dreogan was thrilled at the onset of spring and summer. The walking, even some rock climbing, picnicing out of doors... Dreogan loved nothing so much as being active, and while that was a hard feat to pull off in London, it was much easier to do once the weather cooperated. Just leave it to his body to throw him a wild card like this.

But that's just what it was--a wild card. If left to her own devices, Akiva'd probably be nodding knowingly and fretting. "It's a pulled muscle, Kiv," he said with a level, challenging gaze--and a smile, to soften it a bit. She was persistent, and he was stubborn, but neither of them liked to argue all that much, so he hoped he could leave it at that. "Gabe can do the digging for both of us."

Dree smiled into the kiss, quite pleased with himself. At the mention of Nora Dobbins, the matchmaking woman who'd taken them in--in gratitude for getting her out of a mob stampede--he could only smile.

"Haha," Dree instantly regretting the laugh: clenching his jaw and grimacing. He took a deep breath, processing. You used your back to laugh?! He curved his hand around the small of his back, thumb on his hip, fingers pressing beside the spine. There. Nondescript. He was fine. Gabe hadn't even noticed.[1]

"I'm sure she would," Dree conceded, at length. There was a bit of wind taken from his sails: Kiva'd practically already guessed the surprise. Well, still time for the reveal, regardless. "I'll say, before I go into any of this, that credit is due to Adon." Adon'd never pass on an opportunity to get credit, and Dree'd never pass on an opportunity to benefit from Adon's gift ideas. Dree held little importance in the physical--things were much more experiential; gifts sometimes seemed superficial. But not the way Adon did them. He had a knack, and his big brother was more than happy to mooch.

"So, during the Roman Period in Israel..."[2] Dree only got that far before blushing bright red. "...Okay, I hear it now," he said flatly. This is what people teased him about--mostly Adon--when they talked about professor mode. Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Well, suffice it to say," he looked at Akiva with raised eyebrows, daring her to laugh at his expense, "I thought this'd fit with the Israeli tradition of planting trees to commemorate loved ones and events... Added bonus: helps the environment." He smiled, pleased before adding under his breath, "and overcomingtheconsequencesofhistoricaldeforestation broughtaboutbysystematizedsubjugation." Another pause. "Sorry." As though he was going to pass that up.

He gestured to several mint plants, still in their white plastic containers, resting at the top of the pot. "Thought it could be a little family project to add to our garden." They were already breeding butterflies, and he heard they liked citrus particularly. He grinned, looking over for Gabe. "Gabe? Gaaaabe?"

There was a growled, indignant response of "Aaaaaaht?!" Dree looked over, puzzled at Akiva. They certainly didn't yell to each other through the house... did they? Oh, G-d. Was he picking up bad manners?

"Gabe," he called in an inside voice, beginning to walk over. Of course, if his back hadn't hurt, he wouldn't have shouted out to Gabe in the first place. But his back wasn't hurting all that bad, anyways. He came up to his son who stood motionless, holding the ball between his hands.

"Gabe," he repeated, bending down to look Gabe in the--"ooooh, ffffffffffffffffiiiiiil...lllibuster," Dreogan groaned, breathing heavily a moment. He straightened, opting instead to look down at his son. "Gabe, want to dig those plants?"

Gabe considered, looking between Lady, the ball, and the newly arrived tree. After a moment of deliberation, the ball was dropped unceremoniously onto the grass as he tottered over to the large pot, fingers already poking into the soil.  "We have shovels or something, right?" Dreogan asked, realizing he'd left out a minor detail.

1.

Because he was too busy thinking about Bear.

2.

Because our dear Dree's a bit sheepish, and our reader is curious: During the Roman Period, booming populations, unprecedented economic development, and heavy taxation led to stark deforestation in Israel. Wealthy landowners were taxed based on the number of trees on their property, meant to indicate the expanse of land and its prosperity. Instead, to evade taxes, landowners chopped down their trees.

Eli,

Unfortunately, I won't be able to make your Spring holiday work, but let's aim for May. If you're uncomfortable with Hogsmeade (I would hate to illicit the wrath of your mother, which is both considerable and mysterious), I could meet you at Hogwarts, I'd imagine. I know a professor or two (not to brag) and might be able to finagle an invite. You'll be in the thick of NEWTs cramming by then, so we can keep it brief. You probably have it handled, but let me know if you need help in any topics; Divination or Muggle Studies particularly.

Let me know . I'll run it by your mum, too. Again, last thing I'd want is to find out what those squid parts are for.

Best,

Dree

Dreogan cringed inwardly at Sasha's response, casting him an apologetic glance. He'd meant to lighten the mood with some prodding. He'd spent enough time with Adon to know, though, that if something was preoccupying a person, it was going to surface regardless.

Wish it was that simple.

"It isn't--I get that." Dreogan emphasized firmly, reaching up--he supposed he ought to get used to this growth spurt--to clasp the boy's shoulder briefly. Dreogan'd always been a troubled sleeper-- a combination of nerves, an overactive mind, and a rather dominant Sight from a young age. His time in captivity hadn't helped quiet that overactive mind. He had long since decided that there was no shame in seeking a little help; even Adon, who'd always slept like a rock, had had to turn to potions since last month. "My advice was well-meant. And from experience." When he was living with them, Sasha would have seen his nightly rituals of tea, potions, meditation before sleep.

"Look, if you want to go horseback riding sometime," the corners of Dreogan's lips began to quiver, already holding back a smile in anticipation of his own joke: "I happily volunteer Adon. But if you'd like to go walking, once school's out, get out in the open air..." there was so much they could discuss. "Hertfordshire's not so far from London, and I'll take just about any excuse to visit the country." There was a time he'd have laughed at the idea of becoming a city dweller. He'd always felt more at comfort in the mountains, hillsides or, in a pinch, even the beach. "...When does the school year end, anyhow? Do you need help moving your things out?" It could give him a good insight into Sasha's living situation... and social life. Dreogan still felt a little guilty, doubting Sasha had much of one. He just always seemed so... solitary. Transitions between phases of life were always hard enough as it was with a strong network--there were bittersweet farewells, shifting of relationships, sometimes the complete dissolution... Dreogan'd left most of his friends behind at Beit Gaddol, never really to rekindle those friendships. A few had reached out: weddings, births, funerals... but it was a mere handful--and even fewer still were in England, where he could regularly catch up. He wasn't visiting the Middle East like he had been when in his previous position.

He didn't want Sasha's friends to drop away. What was more, he didn't want Sasha to be one of the friends that dropped away.

"Kiv----aughhhhhh!" Dreogan yelped as he wrestled the nearly-50 kilo terracotta pot in a vicious embrace. There was a sharp pain--something gave, and he nearly dropped it. "Ah--fffff..." he bit off the rest of the curse, going down onto one knee heavily.

"Dree! Whoah-hey..." came a deep voice, soothing Dree as though he were a high-spirited horse. Dree cringed, trying to get a good look at the source. Clive "Ironfist" Myers[1] was hopping their fence and, in a moment, grabbing the pot with both hands. Suddenly, with near superhuman force, Clive had almost entirely lifted the weight from him. Dree craned his neck and could just barely make it out--Clive's wand, pressed between his palm and the pot, carrying out some sort of levitation. With a bit of coaxing, he managed to get to his feet again.

"Thanks," he said between a puff of breath. With Clive's help, they carried the heavy, potted orange tree down the side yard and into the back, where Akiva and Gabe were at play. The moment the pot was down, Dree was nearly doubled over, hunched and rubbing his low back.

"You need to lift from your knees," Clive offered. Jaw clenched, Dree squinted up at him, trying to craft a neutral response through the pain. Sensing the offense taken, Clive lifted his hands in surrender. "Just a thought."

The wave of pain seemed to subside, and Dree rose to his full height again, shifting slightly. "Thanks, Clive," he muttered. "I, er... thought I could do it on my own, and didn't think magic'd..."

"You didn't want to mobilis it down Drury Lane." Both nodded. "Well, happy to help. You know, I may have a salve for that," he said, pointing to Dree's back. "One old man to another."

Dree's eyes widened. He was beginning to see why Clive and Adon got along so well. Dree felt he'd aged years overnight, recently, but it hardly was the sort of thing people should comment on. "M'fine. Really." Clive was looking at him skeptically, ready to chastise him at a moment's notice. "Really," Dree added emphatically, glancing over to Akiva for good measure.

"If you're sure," Clive shrugged it off. "Akiva, Gabe," he tapped his cap in farewell before exiting. Dreogan tried to smile through a grimace, rubbing bits of terracotta and soil off his tweet coat and trousers.

"So," Dree said, smiling a bit awkwardly at his family. "I brought you a surprise..."

1.	World-renowned dueller and next-door neighbor to the Katzes-Eleor

Dreogan should have known that any mention of adding responsibility to Sasha--particularly of the academic sort--would be readily accepted. Trying not to laugh at Sasha's eagerness, he attempted to backpedal as much as he could. "I'm not sure how it all works, or if they'd even advise a double-degree; they may be able to coordinate your efforts at straddling both areas of study, is all." The boy had an air of a pup waiting for table scraps--peering up, eager, tail wagging. He hoped Laevenstrome's academic advisor would at least sort it out, make sure he wasn't biting off more than he could chew.

Dreogan frowned when he heard about his summer plans: catching up on such things like... sleep.

Dreogan made a show of rubbing his temples, his voice teasingly tired: "Why do I feel the need to remind you Sasha," he sighed, "without sleep, you will die." The phrase was an inside joke--but not with Sasha. While a prefect, Dreogan and his friend Aleron would patrol the hallways, often finding the more studious students asleep on books, tucked away in empty classrooms, corners of the library, study carrels. They'd started leaving sanctimonious notes hanging overhead in the air: "Without sleep, you will die. --Your Friendly Sleep KGB"

It wasn't his place to parent anymore, he knew, but such instincts died hard. He'd happily impart the wisdom he'd learned. A notorious sleep evader himself... "You'll need to make sure you're not catching up on too much this summer, or you'll need to catch up from your catch up." He gave a lopsided smile before adding, "That said, I hope we get a chance to catch up. Where are you going to be this summer?"

“I think it’s only a matter of time before the Statute of Secrecy fails.  I don’t think it’s imminent but I’d be surprised if it lasted more than another 15, maybe 20 years.  They should be preparing for that.” 

Dreogan shook his head with a glimmer of a wistful smile, perhaps masking a grimace. Whatever his own feelings were on the matter--and they might not be all that different from Sasha's, at present--the Ministry's official stance was plain on the matter of the Statute. And it wouldn't serve for Dreogan to take up such a subject while serving in an official capacity--and trying to encourage young people to Take up the Cause.

He'd already teetered precariously close on that "philanthropic contributions" bit, just now. The muffling charm did him no service, either. With a smile and dismissive wave of his wand hand, the charm dropped. "It's a valid concern," was all he could throw Sasha's way in response. "And a conversation for another time. I'd like to hear your thoughts--especially as your studies come underway. That's quite a lot to take on yourself," he said, his voice cautious, but unsurprised. Sasha'd buck at the notion that he couldn't take on the world, or at least its responsibilities. It was something that he admired and perhaps related to a little in him. But it worried him to no end.

How to break this down in terms Sasha would understand. Ah--rules. "In my understanding of academia, you'll need to get rather specific on your foci. I'm afraid you may need to end up picking one of those projects...but," he said more lightly, "that's a ways off yet. I'll get you in touch with my successor at Laevenstrome--" he broke off, giving a self-aware, earnest grin. "Not to sound too grand on the line of inheritance, there. Professor Hawke; she now teaches Muggle Mage Relations at Laevenstrome, and last I'd checked, they were looking into the possibility of some sort of satellite education program. Maybe some coordination of your studies to bring in the magical component could be managed on their end. But you'd have to get in touch with the school on that, I'm afraid. Policies and all that. I'm sure she'd be interested in the work you aim to do at the very least. "

And despite the fact that it was a career fair, Dreogan was a bit appaled at just how easy it was to turn this into a networking event. Sasha had always been about 20 years older than he was. Dreogan understood it; it was comfortable. He was an old soul himself. In the sight of ambitions and goals and traumas, it was easy to forget things like being young. So when "pretending to be an adult" came up on the list of prospective summer topics, Dreogan puffed his cheeks dismissively.

"Overrated. Pretend to be a teen, Sasha." He smirked. "I'll let you know as things on the summer humanitarian efforts pick up. We'd love to have you in any capacity, but you've got a lot on your plate." Worry naturally crept in. His brows furrowed. "Are you even finding the time to sleep, these days?" His expression grew even more serious. "Or, more importantly: ride?" There had been a time when that had been more important than things like sleep or breathing to the teen. Had that changed? Dreogan didn't even know, he realized with a drop in his stomach.

Dreogan chuckled at the use of the word bummer. Perhaps he'd just spent so much more time with American teens than he had British teens in the past 10 years, but with the phrase, he could almost envision the German youth in Lake Elsinore, California.[1] If it wasn't obscenely weird to propose a gaming session with kids half his age, something like the IT club sounded like a good outlet for his interests.[2] . It was good that Sasha had something like that in his life. And friends.

Not that Dreogan doubted the ability! It just seemed like... Sasha seemed, by nature, so solitary. But perhaps that had just been by circumstance, for most of his life. A ghostly echo of his train of thoughts cut through: "That night, two years ago... Christmas." Dreogan blanched slightly, looking about. A girl at the next booth over, looked over the swag--quills and gumdrops, finally settling on a gumdrop before moving on. Dreogan flickered a grimace. This hardly seemed the time or place to bring up talk of his family's murder.

"Yes, I remember," Dreogan said, voice low. He'd been there. Seen the corpses; he'd bee near certain Sasha would number among them. How did you recover from something like that. Had he?

Dreogan closed his eyes, returning his focus to Sasha's analysis, nodding emphatically. "It's specifically designed that way. The ignorance of the other side of the Statute cuts both ways." That the Ministry didn't see this as detrimental, after all it had been through, after obscuri and cases like Sasha and Fawza and Victoria...[3]

The pain didn't stop there, though. The mention of Jacoba, so recently deceased... Adon had, in ways, been closest of the Eleor brothers to the elder Schlagenweit, but Dreogan had felt a very deep kindred. It wasn't just that he'd been the one to bring her into the magical world. Jacoba was always the easiest person to agree with. Their boundaries, principles, drives were so similar--inherently aligned.

"Jacoba wouldn't have just said it," Dreogan rattled off, easily. "She did say it. Many times."

A student began to meander towards his booth. There was a momentary meeting of eyes; the girl seemed to realize what she was stumbling into, and, sensibly, made her way towards Level Nine's booth instead.

Clearing his throat, Dreogan returned his attention to Sasha, gracing him with a genuine smile. He liked the use of 'we,' just there. "I've been thinking about that. I know you probably have things pretty well lined up for after school..." Sasha would have no shortage of options, with his wealth and background, and no shortage of courting agencies and businesses for career prospects, with his smarts, "but my contacts in Africa--Nigeria, specifically--have been long at work on these efforts, and I'm starting the campaign off in a collaborative mission there. Two weeks. Volunteer-basis, of course. We'll be helping to build some orphanages, providing some training." To not only the magical folk there... "Like most humanitarian effort, there's a heavy educational component for the community, as you might imagine. But I hope we can learn from it, too. Bring it here."

Dreogan wet his lips. "And, of course, once things do take off here, depending on how things work out..." Like if the Ministry would continue to give him funding. Or support his mission. Or his methods, "there may be opportunities for longstanding volunteer work here, and other forms of philanthropic contribution."

Like money.

Dreogan sniffed, cleared his throat, looked down, rearranged the stack of Prophets, shaking his head to clear it. He could do no more to ask financial support at present. It smarted, for one, but it was also inappropriate. "But that's a ways off." He gave a flicker of a smile, regaining composure.  "What are you pursuing after school? Perhaps your areas of expertise will be of particular assistance. We can use all the help we can get." Healers, counselors, lawyers, builders, caregivers, donors, marketing...

His head was spinning just thinking about it.

1.	Location of Laevenstrome.
2.	It reminded him of the IT Crowd. Adon was binge watching just about anything on his phone the past few weeks. He routinely heard the catch-phrase "Have you tried turning it off and on again" uttered any time Dreogan approached anything electronic.
3.	Let there Be Light article

Any Eleor could tell you there was nothing more important than family, and the Eleor family was a sprawling one. As a fact, his mother's Grimm line and the Grimlishes were certainly connected in some way, though the conjoining family trees were a bit sparse, what with the Grimlish smattering of Muggle lineage and the twins' own murky parentage.[1] Once, as a lonely boy feeling cut off from the broad, extended families that so many other purebloods boasted of, Dree had brought this fact up to childhood friends Marietta and Opie. Equally hungry for family, they'd latched on to the narrative.  It didn't matter how tenuous the bond: they were family. Eleors and Grimlishes had never been too concerned about the particularities of blood, anyhow.

It didn't take much, besides, for Dreogan to feel a particular draw towards mentorship. Dreogan had been touched when Eli had reached out to him first about his budding Seer abilities--short of, he presumed--his own immediate family. He'd tried to advise; they'd engaged in some exercises while he was home for the holidays the past several years. 

From what he knew of the twins' history, they were in a much better home with Marietta then they had been most of their lives. It was no failing of either of the Grimlish sisters, of course, but after a series of...distressing conversations 4 years ago,[2] Dreogan had felt a compulsion to be further involved in the twins' lives, to compensate for where any gaps of knowledge may lie and stand in to give guidance and information where necessary--like (very) basic anatomy.  It took a village to raise a child--that sort of thing. And it took considerably more than that to expose them to the real world. Grimlish Manor and Hogwarts both were great sanctuaries for the twins, but at what cost?

All this had come back to his mind in a conversation with Akiva and Maiko.[3] He'd gone directly upstairs to write the twins, done the distressing math, and come to the uncomfortable realization every adult relative comes to, in time: children grew up faster than could be imagined, and fast grow out of reach. They only had a matter of months before they graduated, and he knew little of their life plans.

Biting back a crippling feeling of failure as mentor and real-life navigator for the two of them, he began first with his letter to Eli:

Dreogan Eleor
7 Kent Street, London E28NU

Elijah Grimlish
Grimlish Residence, Forrester Terrace Apartments
London, England

Dear Eli,

It's been too long. I ran into your mother at the apothecary just last week while purchasing squid testicles (her, not me. I knew better than to ask questions). I'll confess I was pretty anxious to break away from her somewhat graphic explanation of its intended purposes, and realized in so doing, I missed the chance to catch up on what may be going on in your life.

Of course, it's best to go to the source for these things. Do you have time to meet up when you're next in Hogsmeade? Let me know the dates and times and I can see if I can free up my schedule. We could grab some (fully legal and age-appropriate) drinks.

Best,
Dreogan Eleor

1.	Most Grimm derivatives are linked in some way, however anciently: Grimaldis, Grimms, Grimlishes, Grimmaulds...
2.	In Which The Grimlishes Study Anatomy
3.	Late Night, Date Night

The tall, lanky figure Dree had known so well--had first met nearly 2 years ago on Hogwarts grounds. How much had changed for them both in that time! The good and the bad. They caught eyes a moment, Dreogan giving a small wave, and Sasha angled his way over to the table. It was good timing; he'd just finished speaking to a group of curious girls about "FaceBook." Assuring them it--to their disappointment--that it was neither a real book, nor literally filled with faces.

"Any chance this still has Warcraft III on it?  The older games are obsolete on my new machine."

Dreogan coughed in surprise, clutching at his heart.  "Obsolete!" he repeated. "Come on, Sasha! This is the height of technology!" He patted the top of the laptop screen. It wasn't hard to keep his smile for Sasha for long, however. It had been too long--and the last time they had seen each other, over 3 months ago--had been far less than happy circumstances.

AppleCare or no, Dreogan wasn't exactly willing to schlep his MacBook over to Hogwarts, where the risk of it somehow short-circuiting, even when turned off, were almost guaranteed.  "This is a backup," he added quickly, in case the young man had actually taken him seriously. Unlikely, but Sasha always had been, well... quite serious.

"I don't think I know Warcraft... But have you played on an Atari?" Dreogan asked, interest piqued. He'd love to play on an Atari. He By its name alone,Warcraft didn't sound like his cup of tea--but he knew that Sasha more than had the setup to play it with other Muggle gaming with his connections. Somehow, Akiva's Muggle girl friends had been less interested in humoring much more than his desire to watch (very, very select) movies on their Blu-Ray and flatscreens. Technology, Dree readily admitted, far surpassed anything the magical world had to offer.

As Sasha picked up the newspaper, Dreogan felt a slight flush as a probable cocktail of emotions (pride, self-consciousness, embarrassment at shameless self promotion) coursed through him. He wasn't sure, really, how the Magical community would respond, as a whole. Probably a hearty dose of derision for those feeling crusading was unnecessary or misguided in these areas. Probably also denial, defensiveness, but Dreogan hoped enough enthusiasm and empathy to get the operation up and running. It had been no easy endeavor to gain enough traction in the Ministry, and even then, it was only a pilot program.

In the microcosm of his own family, response had been about what you would expect: Akiva was wholeheartedly and impossibly supportive, Hestia was alternatively prickly and enthusiastic. And Adon was as apprehensively supportive as he could be, adding with a vaguely ominous pronouncement that he'd support him "no matter what came of it."

Thanks, Donnie.

He was curious, though, of what Sasha would make of it. His interest in both worlds, his age group, his own personal history with the Eleors...

"So...?" he asked, trying to mask any eagerness in the tone.

“it’ll be easier to do every year now too, since you’ve done it once.”

"Mm," Dree agreed with a sage nod. "The first time is always the most awkward." There were the beginnings of a true, Adon-worthy smirk, already forming around the corners of his mouth. "All those unexpected fumblings, trying to find the right..." he caught Akiva looking at him, aghast. "...words..." he concluded, his tone suddenly defensive as he met her stare. "Honestly, what did you think I was going to say?!"

"Still." he persisted. "It's mind-boggling to consider nothing was in place all these years--sexual education or physical. Who is in charge of determining Hogwarts' curriculum?"[1] He couldn't help the air of judgment in the pronouncement. For years, witches and wizards--his professional cohorts--had looked down on him for his Beit Gaddol education, instead revering Hogwarts as though it were the finest education in the world. And the safest place, to boot--despite the fact that someone--or several someones--nearly died--or did die--for several consecutive years. They engaged in dangerous sports atop fast-moving brooms with little to no supervision, were given detention in the Forbidden Forest--which was forbidden for a reason, and now add to these charges the situation of childhood obesity!

"How were your classmates not morbidly obese, with no physical exercise? Don't they offer all-you-can-eat banquets, pumpkin juice, chocolate frogs, all that?" He looked between the two women, disbelieving. "And what's more... how have there not been more mishaps of teen pregnancy? Why, I recall very clearly just a couple of years ago having to teach two grown adult women what the Birds and the Bees were!" It was a wonder that Eli Grimlish--or any Hogwarts graduate--was as well-adjusted as they were, really.[2]

1.	See this ridiculous skit for a commentary on Hogwarts education.
2.	This thread, where Dree has to explain intercourse to the Grimlish sisters.

"That's not something I wanted to be right about," he muttered under his breath as Maiko continued to explain the proceedings.

He sucked in his breath at the stuttering question. Sometimes the ignorance of the Magical World was beyond him. In ways, they were years ahead of their Muggle counterparts and felt a sense of gloating superiority over it. They knew of both worlds; they knew cures to diseases that Muggles didn't even know existed. They knew cures to diseases that were the plague of the Muggle world.

And yet they could not communicate as instantaneously, transparently, and clearly as their Muggle counterparts could. They still lived in a world just a step away from leeching, from believing in humors and wive's tales. In ways, they were in the 21st century, just coming out of the fog of the 13th.

Everything I learned, I learned from trial and error.  Dree's eyebrow rose imperceptibly at this and he bit down any comment. He'd been twice blessed in shocking them tonight. He didn't think he'd be lucky enough to get away with a third comment. It'd come back to haunt (or taunt) him, somehow.

"Is this the first time there's been something like this? At Beit Gaddol, our gym instructors taught us..." That had been... horrifying and awkward...

Dreogan Eleor, MAO, Ministry of Magic, London

Virgil Carstairs, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Virgil:

Your hesitancy to denounce--or renounce?--me outright warms my heart. I'm sure all reports of your reputation from Counselor Biladeau Yukawa are likewise glowing.

I'll look forward to meeting you this afternoon.

Best,
Dreogan Eleor

Dreogan Eleor, MAO, Ministry of Magic, London

Virgil Carstairs, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Dear Virgil:

Thank you for your interest. It's always a relief when you manage to write something someone thought worth reading. And prompt to action. As for your concerns about guilt-tripping and, as you said, platitudes, well, Virgil, I must say, it is certainly good to hold your public servants accountable for what they say. I'll start to lay the concerns to rest: the article was meant to raise awareness, yes. Unlike you, I don't seem to think awareness a platitude or anything to sniff at. But I also know awareness means nothing if it does not, ultimately, result in action. There will be plenty of that, down the line.

One needs to open people up to the necessity, first, though, don't you think?

On that note, the first thing you can do is find me at the MAO table tomorrow at Hogwarts' Career Fair, where there will be a great deal more information on what concerned members of the public might be able to do. Have you given much thought to your plans post-graduation? If a career is already in the works--which I understand is the case for a great many already--perhaps you might consider a week or two of your time over the summer a worthy donation to the cause.

Best,
Dreogan Eleor

"M'fine," Dree whispered with a curt nod.  He looked over the edge of the loft rail, where he could hear his mother, just out of sight, in the kitchen. He couldn't see his uncle.

Good.

Akiva's hand warmed his back, moving softly and he ventured a small smile--though it was an expression of decision, rather than unmitigated feeling. She was too good. So kind. She'd spent the better part of the night last night, soothing him. When he wasn't crying, Gabe had been. Or she had. With the current events--his mother with the candle, Alberic with, well, everything--Dreogan had forgotten that it might be alright to feel hopeful again.

He glanced over at his brother, now with his son, speaking something softly to him. Gabe made a jerky lunge towards Bear-Cat, and the kitten's hackles raised as it bolted, running clear into Adon's wardrobe. Gabe gave a cry of dismay, trying to decide whether to abandon his uncle in pursuit of the kitten.

"I just don't like him being here, alone. With Adon," he rumbled in a low tone. Adon was playing with Gabe at the moment, trying to distract him, but he could tell by the way Adon held very still, expression neutral, that he was trying to listen in.

Or maybe he was just... neutral.

His heart ached at the thought. If Adon did not recover, he only hoped his brother would not know what he was missing out on. Dreogan felt the loss keenly--and only over a span of a couple of days. For it to be permanent?

No, no. He was awake. He was holding their child. He had affection. That was not neutral.

Giving Akiva  slight squeeze, he exhaled a cleansing breath. "He's gone, though. And Adon's back."  He tilted his head, craning slightly forward to catch his wife's expression, some glimpse into her feelings. She was an Eleor through and through. All he'd read thus far was that she was worried: worried about Adon, about him, probably about Gabe killing that cat with kindness...

"You okay? I'm sorry about earlier. With 'ma." That had been an impossible position he'd put her in.