Sunday, 12:00 noon

Waker leaned comfortably into the back of one of her favorite trees, a smooth beech whose bark never scraped the backs of her arms or charcoal her clothes, despite its many snaking roots with the potential to trip newcomers. In short, its far-reaching shade and graceful trunk were inviting, while its location and trek were not. Just close enough to the forest without being off limits, it was prime real estate for those who wished to avoid people, or to privately meet friends. Today happened to be an instance of the latter. Waker had brought along a customary bag and blanket, and had (not quite surprisingly) reached her destination ahead of schedule. This was simultaneously a small triumph and an unsettling one, because it meant she had finished everything else early, but was also now technically wasting time.

Who didn't deserve a chance to breathe every month or two?

Waker removed her watch and set it at the edge of the blanket, very near the grass, staring at its face for a long moment before reaching into her bag for a book that was not of the scholastic persuasion. She pulled out the latest of her many diaries and opened it to the last page to proof read what she's scribed; only Waker would consider diary pages in draft form. She often had to stop herself from crossing things out, erasing them, or tearing pages (and obviously she was not always successful in this self-restraint). Still, reflecting on paper always came much more naturally and freely than speaking very personal thoughts aloud, and most of what consumed the book was 'of-the-moment' and whimsical enough to seem out of character.

The Ravenclaw kept a steady eye for passersby, though the only one she expected to was not yet within view. Another glance at the tiny clock hands reminded her that it was still early. Though they would probably soon fall into their routine study niche, Waker was also admittedly curious to ask her friend about the most recent family-oriented holiday, a subject which they had so far avoided in favor of rigorous exam preparation. It wasn't as if she had had her own clan of muggles visiting, but Waker knew that Jasper's family life was sticky at best. And so much had happened in such a short span of time-- the hijacking of the Memorial Ceremony platform, the death of George's uncle, Kyle Gibson's fugitive escape, the Daily Prophet articles-- that even the most tantalizing textbook couldn't keep the anxious and heartsick thoughts at bay.


outfit

The truth was, Jasper really wasn't late. Well, maybe a little, he considered as he checked his watch. Noon, Waker had said around noon. And here it was, noon had come and he was still striding down the hall, not yet on the grounds. Knowing Waker, she had probably gotten there thirty minutes in advance. Either way, Waker - he was sure - was wondering what was taking him so long. And the truth was rather simple.

Jasper had overslept, getting up at nine o'clock  rather than his usual eight o'clock and the whole thing had messed him up. He liked his routines and he certainly didn't appreciate having them disrupted by a faulty alarm spell. Breakfast was hurried and rushed, him jamming bacon and waffles down his throat in a desperate race against time to make up for his lost time. Jasper hated having his routines disrupted. Everything became chaotic. He hadn't had time to practice his trumpet, something Jasper had been wanting to do for a while and it was irritating.

Jasper was dressed casually, black shorts, a green-white-silver striped Slytherin-themed polo shirt, a soft black cloak that didn't quite seem necessary but he'd brought along anyway. He had a brown canvas messenger bag's strap across his shoulder, the messenger bag itself full of his books and other study items. His hands were full, a thick dusty old book tucked under one arm, a large checkered bundle of cloth clutched securely in his hands. It didn't take a terribly long for him to finally  finally reach Waker, only fifteen minutes by Jasper's watch, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, he was there.

"Hey," he smiled warmly, plopping himself onto the soft, lush green grass. "Sorry I wasn't here sooner." Carefully, he placed the red checkered bundle on the ground and it hastily unfolded, revealing several plates of food, eating utensils, and two empty plates. It was all very neat and organized and was only - of course - possible through magic. "Hungry? It's about lunchtime, so, I figured I'd grab some food up from the kitchens." Jasper subtly placed his book down, along with unhooking the messenger bag from his body.

The sight of Jasper approaching, belongings in hand, caused Waker to incline her head. She blindly but gingerly closed her book of handwritten reflections, and pressed it into the depths of her open bag. A glance at the watch on the edge of the blanket told her that she hadn't been imagining the jump in time. She might have been more perpetually preoccupied with it (as was customary), if she weren't suddenly so busy reflecting. The beech tree had an unspoken but unmistakable pull, a quality that readily invited getting lost in thought if one wasn't diligently pouring over textbooks. Waker supposed it was better to do that here than anywhere else. Surely it would be looked down upon in the library.

Straightening her shoulders and extending her lanky, patent-boot-clad legs for more comfort, the Ravenclaw reflected Jasper's smile just as he dropped down beside her. "Hello," she returned, her eyes roaming the picnic being unfolded, and not without a vague glow of praise. She decided that she was indeed hungry. While Waker was slightly less rigid about meal schedules on weekends, her stomach expected food at certain times-- like now, for example. The small bag of granola in her bag would hardly suffice for the two of them, and Jasper's haul was much more inviting. "Well, I can't say no to all of this, can I?" She reached first for a for a fresh, warm roll of bread, glancing at him in silent thanks. The boy's brand of organization, from schoolwork to lunch spreads, was very like her own. She only hoped they wouldn't be scolded for stealing plates, but as the elves would readily lend out healthy kidneys and their firstborn brood-- and as Waker frequently employed their services in all matters of caffeine-- she was fairly relaxed.

"Is everything alright?" She asked at length, and as casually as possible, only after Jasper had settled in and they'd started to focus on the food. She didn't want to sound overly suspicious; she wasn't. But, well, she was curious. He had been a bit late, a rare feat. Even her self-indulgence with the diary hadn't let her ignore the time entirely. "I think this has been the most eventful two weeks in the history of ever. We'll have to revise all of our timelines for Professor Greyfriar," she offered humorously. She slowly took a bite of mashed potato and carrot.

And... Waker's eyes fell on the dusty old tome he'd set down with his bag. She didn't need to read the cover to know it wasn't one of their textbooks. She knew more about the physical attributes of each of their required readings than she did most people... which was slightly sad, to be sure. Swallowing, she spoke with subtle nosiness. "What's that?" The Ravenclaw studied its binding, which was not very helpful in determining what it might be. Most probably it was one of the books on their lengthy list of library loans, something annoyingly out of print and hard to track down, but eternally useful for extra points. She reached to pick it up.

It was nice to see a smile on someone's face. It seemed, in the aftermath of the holidays, hardly anyone was smiling at all. Or doing much, anyhow. Jasper had hardly done a thing besides study in the past few days. And write angry letters, but that was a different thing altogether. He settled down into the meal, loading a bacon sandwich and a pair of rolls onto his plate. Just as he had chomped into a particularly tasty piece of his sandwich, Waker decided to speak.

"Is everything alright?" she asked casually. Jasper shrugged, hastily gulping down his mouthful. He hardly paused to chew and it scratched his throat on the way down. He coughed for a moment, rubbing his neck, before he answered her. "Yeah, I just woke up late." he scowled openly, "My alarm charm's faulty. I should probably renew it, but I don't know.." his voice trailed off, "I was thinking of getting one of those muggle alarm clocks. The meckyangle..." Jasper didn't have a clue how to pronounce it properly, "Meckyanical sort...Er, the one that doesn't use electricity?" The latter word was enunciated slowly, as Jasper had only ever used it in Muggle Studies and even then only a few times. "They're supposed to be bloody accurate, last I heard." He shrugged again.

"I think this has been the most eventful two weeks in the history of ever. We'll have to revise all of our timelines for Professor Greyfriar," she added and he nodded, smiling. "If we're lucky," he added with a chuckle. "I'm sure I'll have to entirely redo mine. So much has happened." Kyle Gibson, the murders, the shriek-match between Jasper's mum and dad and the embarrassment that followed that particular incident...

"What's that?" Waker leaned over to pick up the old, leather-bound book but Jasper snatched it up before it could quite reach her fingertips, hoping it didn't seem too rude. He quickly yanked a bit of parchment in which someone had written in large angry letters away and hastily tossed it off to the side. He opened the book and on the first page was the title - Bealucræft Mæst Seldcúþ. The remains of the title on the outside and on the binding had long since worn away.

Jasper tapped the title with his wand, muttering a spell under his breath, and the letters shifted, forming themselves into Magick Moste Rare. "It's an antique." he said excitedly, moving closer to Waker so she could see the page better. "I owl-ordered it and it came in just this morning. Waker, it's written in Old English, and there's only maybe fifty copies around today!" And he'd been lucky to see it in the Ever-Updating Catalogue before someone else had, grossly underpriced to 20 galleons when it was easily five times that. But Jasper was glad, because he'd certainly spent his entire monthly allowance by now.

"Mechanical," Waker confirmed with a small smirk. In instances like these, it was a good thing she'd been raised by muggles; on the flip side, it was nice to have a friend who had grown up in the wizarding world. No amount of obsessive reading could quite make up for not experiencing certain things firsthand. "I think charms are better, but I'll help you find one, if you want. There are some good clock shops in London... or Colchester." As usual, the second word was lackluster when the Ravenclaw spoke it. She liked her hometown well enough, but it could get boring fast if one knew its every street corner. "Or you could always find something in one of those massive places that sell everything." It would certainly be less expensive, if more overwhelming. There were often dodgy muggle children around the department stores in London, ready to nick wallets from unsuspecting tourists. Waker had always been tempted to subtly return the stolen property with a wave of her wand, but had not been a legal witch until now. "Would you like a candy floss machine and snorkel mask with your alarm clock?" She enticed jokingly.

Glad to hear it had only been his pesky alarm to ruin his schedule, and not something more pressing, Waker held off on any further investigating into Jasper's personal life for the moment. Instead she carried on with the comments on recent events at large, which would undoubtedly lend themselves to other topics. "Do you think they'll find him?" She asked, obviously referring to the seventh year Gryffindor, whose name needn't even be spoken aloud. It made Waker want to shiver, to think someone she'd viewed as a respectable student was capable of murder. She hadn't really known Kyle well, but she'd respected him-- until that horrific point. And poor George, who had only several days ago mentioned his then-living uncle while conversing in the Trophy Room. She didn't know what to say in these situations. The whole thing made her queasy and angry and guilty. "I can't imagine... if they don't chuck him into Azkaban for life..." Her voice became quieter, but darker and more far away. She didn't always like to share these less put-together thoughts. Coming out of her reverie, she shook her head.

She supposed now as good a time as any.

"Have you talked to your dad?" She paused awkwardly for a moment, but kept her eyes keenly focused on Jasper. She felt a little conscience-stricken for interrupting an otherwise pleasant lunch with a barrage of rather unappetizing subjects. "About all of this or... other things?" She wasn't sure how he could have avoided the man for the duration of last week's festivities, but then this was Jasper, and Waker supposed it was entirely possible. For someone who was not exceptionally close with her own parents, Waker felt Jasper's relationship with his father was exceedingly unhealthy. Of course, she was on the Slytheirn's side (not that any of it was her business at all). But she still wondered from time to time whether they mightn't try to mend some of what was broken. "You know, we'll probably be at the Ministry a lot this summer, if we get those internships. He won't be out in the field everyday, Jasper. You might run into him. More than once." She continued to stare steadily at the boy, taking her chances and waiting for a reaction.

Relieved for the moment to have something entirely different to discuss, the Ravenclaw was nevertheless taken aback when her friend pulled the book away. She knitted her brows, but reached for an apple in lieu of speaking, and took a small bite while waiting with an air of slightly irritable resignation for Jasper to explain. Waker knew there was no use arguing about whatever those hastily-hidden papers might be. She wouldn't have liked to be confronted about her diary, even by her closest friends. But it didn't stop her mind from racing. Lucky for the girl, the book itself seemed nothing short of fascinating, and she was successfully pacified as she leaned closer to examine it.

Waker gingerly ran her fingers over the impressive, freshly-morphed lettering of the rare relic. She glanced sideways at Jasper as he explained its origin, a faint but obviously interested smile playing at her mouth. This was the slight difference between them; Jasper's Slytherin degree of ambition gave him a slight edge that Waker did not wholly possess. She would have admired the book from afar, maybe scoured the school library for it, but would likely not have thought to make it her own. Now that it was here, in Jasper's ownership, it was entirely impossible to resist. "All of it is in Old English?" She asked, equal parts interested and hesitant. She immediately felt foolish, and winced at her own stupidity. "Of course it is, Waker," she said under her breath, saving Jasper the trouble. The spells they'd learned in Hogwarts had always been explained in great and careful detail in their modern tongue, both in text and during lecture, despite the many dead-language incantations that accompanied. The Ravenclaw wondered whether the majority of the undoubtedly-alluring magic in this book might be hard to understand.

"Mechanical," Waker confirmed with a small smirk. Jasper nodded, yes, that was it. Mechanical. What a funny word. But then, muggles were funny in a bizarre fashion.  "I think charms are better, but I'll help you find one, if you want. There are some good clock shops in London... or Colchester." Waker went on, her voice faltering on the name of her hometown. "You'll have to show me this summer, then." Jasper commented, between bites. The muggle world was so fascinating. He always felt like he knew nothing about it, though, but hopefully that would change. "You're lucky, you know? You can wander through the muggle world without causing a kerfluffle. Me, I'd be lost out there." he shook his head, feeling a touch of jealousy.

"Or you could always find something in one of those massive places that sell everything. Would you like a candy floss machine and snorkel mask with your alarm clock?" Jasper blinked and stared at Waker, confusion settling into his face. "What's a snorkel mask?" he tilted his head as he wondered aloud. "Is it made out of snorks? And why would you need a whole machine for candy floss? It's not that complicated." His eyebrows knit together with his bewilderment.

"Do you think they'll find him?" Their conversation shifted to a more somber topic and Jasper frowned. Him was certainly Kyle Gibson... "I can't imagine... if they don't chuck him into Azkaban for life..."

"If they find him, yeah, it's Azkaban for life. He killed a man. Two men. High-ranking ones, to fill that cauldron higher, and in front of everyone." he shrugged as he spoke. He'd heard whispers of doubts that Gibson really hadn't done it, but Jasper didn't believe them. Gibson certainly had the temper for it, he figured, and everyone had seen him do it. Sure, there were ways of impersonating a person, but who would go through all that trouble. "I hope they find him soon. All the hitwizards and Aurors will be on top alert for him, I'm sure. I can't believe nobody saw the warning signs before. A murder in our midst." His nose crinkled in disgust.

"Have you talked to your dad?" Waker asked suddenly. Jasper bit his lower lip. His father wasn't his favorite topic and Jasper's good mood soured. "Unfortunately." he grumbled. "He and my mum had a shouting match at the Memorial Ceremony...trying to outdo Gibson's work, I suppose." He scowled. Jasper's relationship with his father wasn't the best - the truth was he'd hardly had any contact with the man since he was five, excepting the monthly payments Lukas sent every month and would send until Jasper turned seventeen at the end of the summer. Each and every time he'd seen him since then, Jasper had been with his mum and the former couple had engaged in wild screaming and shouting arguments which Jasper occasionally joined in. And each time after, Kayla - Jasper's mum - had reminded him of how Lukas had neglected him when he was small.

"Here," he tossed the piece of parchment he'd previously hidden towards her, making a split-second decision. He could trust Waker, he was sure. Certainly, she wouldn't go blabbing to everyone in their year about his personal issues. "The latest."

"You know, we'll probably be at the Ministry a lot this summer, if we get those internships. He won't be out in the field everyday, Jasper. You might run into him. More than once." He shrugged, chewing the sandwich a bit longer than he needed to as he tried to come up with an appropriate response. "W-well," he said, trying to sound as he always did but not quite managing, "If we get the internships, we wouldn't be in the same department. Hitwizards don't visit the Department of Mysteries terribly often, do they?" Jasper ran a hand through his hair, obviously stressed. "But then, I might run into him when I floo in. Ugh," he grumbled, "I hate not being able to apparate in until the end of summer."

They peered at the book and Jasper chuckled at her words. "Sort of." he turned the page, "And sorta not, Waker." He thumbed through the thick, dusty tome. "The incantations are in Latin, as always, and the text explaining it is in Old English. I looked up Old English in the library a bit - and although the spell translates it well enough, it's very literal. The words might not be in the right order."

"You're lucky, you know? You can wander through the muggle world without causing a kerfluffle. Me, I'd be lost out there."

Waker had to hold back an acerbic laugh at this. While, only a moment before, she had indeed been thinking herself lucky, to actually hear the words aloud reminded her that the grass was always greener elsewhere. There were times when Waker would have given anything to grow up knowing what Diagon Alley and Hogwarts were, where to purchase the best cauldron, and who to consult about weary owls. Maybe she would have been less stringent, more loose. But then she would not have been Waker. "Maybe we're both unlucky, and the people who have one muggle family and one wizarding family are the ones basking in all the glory. They've got us wrapped around their fingers. You should have seen me the first time I stepped into an Apothecary." Her face twisted into something unpleasant, but dissolved into a small, defeated smile. "Anyway, it's not that hard once you've got muggle currency. People speak in pounds before they learn English. It's a giant myth that it's our first language, English. Don't walk in front of cars, and you'll do fine." Easier said than done in London.

"An underwater mask, you know, for swimming, so that you don't get salt water or chlorine in your eyes... it has a little tube attached so you can breathe. I've only used one once or twice." Miming this muggle creation, Waker felt slightly foolish. She pushed her lips together while her fingers flourished upward, as if practicing a new charm technique that she would later try with her wand. "Deep water divers just use aqua lungs." Or both. Realizing immediately she should expand on this, she added, "Which is kind of like carrying around oxygen in a tank on your back. It has the effect of gillyweed, in that you can breathe under water, but you don't grow gills." While gillyweed seemed the safer and more convenient option, Waker might have preferred diving tanks for the mere reason that she wouldn't have to swallow anything with the unpleasant texture of soaked brains.

Waker tilted her head, blinking slightly with narrowed eyes. "Not everyone can use heating and spinning magic, Jasper," she chided jokingly. "With the machine, you have to heat the sugar and whirl it around in a metal bowl with electricity, so that it solidifies with centrifugal force." Could that have sounded any nerdier? Waker almost bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut at her own habit of interjecting textbook phrases, but was saved by a routinely self-imposed grace. "Poor muggles, we also use overpriced popcorn poppers and ice-cream makers," she concluded sadly, but it was obvious she was only poking mild fun at Jasper, who, of anyone she could name, seemed one of the most likely candidates to understand Waker's sense of humor. "Have you tried either of those in Muggle Studies yet?" She inquired a little more sincerely, her brows inclining mildly.

Waker's gaze seemed to silently agree with Jasper's logic. Where her keen eyes could often be suspicious or scrutinizing, here they were yielding and assured. It was the only conclusion: Kyle had to be permanently punished, and even then, a perpetual imprisonment would not bring back the lost lives or heal the wounds of those affected. "I do, too. Those men's families must be a mess." She couldn't help thinking of one person in particular, whom she hoped she could offer comfort even if such matters were not Waker's forte. "I knew he was sort of aggressive, but I always thought it was just because he was a talented wizard who liked dueling. Dueling as an art, you know, to improve your skill... not a way to kill people." Her voice became dark and scathing again. The idea of Dueling Club was suddenly repulsive.

"Unfortunately. He and my mum had a shouting match at the Memorial Ceremony...trying to outdo Gibson's work, I suppose."

At this, the Ravenclaw flinched. Perhaps it was the macabre reference to too-fresh events, or the fact that this parental screaming sport seemed not to be an isolated incident in her friend's life. With chary fingers and methodical hush, she picked up the slip or parchment he'd given her permission to examine. Waker's decidedly impassive expression became more obviously discomposed as she read. "Well, he seems very humble, doesn't he?" Waker nearly rolled her eyes. "Your family is none of your business and he's the only one who matters," she summarized, plainly not fooled. It was true, she could not begin to fathom the context of this letter, or the content of every letter exchanged between father and son, but Waker knew there were some things parents should never say to their children. And this particular piece of paper seemed to be brimming with them. "So glad he cleared that up. Now you can sleep at night." On sheets that Mr. Quinn so graciously provided, no less. It were as the man expected Jasper to thank him for being allowed to breathe. For every moment Waker almost worked up the nerve to convince her friend to make amends, there was equal time spent privately chastising a man she'd never properly met, and believing that Jasper should cut ties and be done with the pain and nonsense.

"If we get the internships, we wouldn't be in the same department. Hitwizards don't visit the Department of Mysteries terribly often, do they?... But then, I might run into him when I floo in... Ugh, I hate not being able to Apparate in until the end of summer."

Waker did not fail to note the slight uncertainty in the Slytherin's tone, but she let it go unmentioned. "I suppose not. They're more likely to spend time with the Aurors and Law Enforcement," she conceded. But she was still not entirely convinced, and Jasper's annoyance with the Apparation age laws brought new things to ponder. Having recently earned her own Apparating license and now wholly feeling that it was something she could never live without (despite having been unable to put it to much use beyond the winter holiday), Waker felt sympathy. "You could side-along with me," she offered, wondering if that might not be even less desirable. It might only rub in the fact that Jasper wasn't allowed to Apparate. "If we get them." She couldn't help repeating it. It was so anxiety-inducing, waiting. She half expected her resume to be returned with a giant frowny face stamped atop it, like the marked-up homework sheets of the bad students in muggle primary school.

Her attention now fully dedicated to the book, Waker tried not to let being corrected make her feel too foolish. It helped that the source material was so mysteriously put-together and uniquely ancient. Taking the liberty to turn a page, too, she pointed to the first incantation that caught her eye. "This one looks interesting. Have you tried it? Or any of them yet?"

"Maybe we're both unlucky, and the people who have one muggle family and one wizarding family are the ones basking in all the glory. They've got us wrapped around their fingers." Waker commented, and Jasper was reduced to a nod as he crammed the last bits of his roll into his mouth. "Yeah, the half-bloods," he said as soon as he'd finished chewing. "They've got one foot in our world, one foot in the muggle world. I wouldn't mind living like that, I think." But Waker was already going on, "You should have seen me the first time I stepped into an Apothecary," he smiled, just at the thought. Apothecaries could be gruesome when you were little (and sometimes even now, though Jasper would never admit that), but he'd grown up wandering into them now and then and they were just as familiar as a grocery store. Her face twisted grotesquely, but slowly formed into a small smile.

"Anyway, it's not that hard once you've got muggle currency. People speak in pounds before they learn English. It's a giant myth that it's our first language, English. Don't walk in front of cars, and you'll do fine." Pounds were, quite apparently, money and Jasper idly wondered how they managed to carry around so much weight without the help of magic. And cars, cars were those muggle contraptions he'd seen shrieking and roaring down the street, startling with their fierceness. Muggles were so peculiar. But he nodded to her, as though her words had made far more sense to him then they really had. Yes, he'd need to spend far more time studying the mundane world.

As Waker explained the use of the 'snorkel', which evidently was not used in any form of hunting but rather for swimming of all things, which Jasper had never particularly liked in the first place, she mimed exactly where they went and he chuckled, mimicking her. "Muggles," he choked out, sounding incredulous, "they really go around with such contraptions on their faces? Ohh," he shook his head merrily, putting his hands down and resting his palms on the ground. "What will they think of next?" And soon enough, the Slytherin had his answer: another abnormality called 'aqua lungs', which was hastily explained by Waker to Jasper's obvious bewilderment.

He looked away as she chided him, as though ashamed, but the small smirk on his lips betrayed his real emotions as Waker explained the hidden complexities of making candy floss. "Poor muggles, we also use overpriced popcorn poppers and ice-cream makers," she concluded sadly, to which Jasper grinned before drawing his face in his best impression of pity and sorrow. "Waker," he said with mock-somberness, placing a hand over his heart, "You know what this calls for, don't you?" He leaned over, touching her hand gently and spoke with a small sniffle, "We have to join the-" he looked away, cutting himself off as he struggled to remember, "-the, urh, Muggle-Wizard Alliance, the Muggle Club, the...the...Muggle Exploration Club (that's it!) and do a charity bake sale for all these poor, poor Muggles who've been taken advantage of with their misguided popcorn poppers and ice-cream makers!" Jasper managed to keep his face as straight and serious as he could, but inside he was cracking up. He shook his head quickly at her question. "Not from the muggle machines, nope. I'll try some this summer, okay? Or if not, during my Coming-Of-Age trip." If I can afford to do one, anyway. I hope so.

"Speaking of that," Jasper added, trying to sound casual, "have you decided where to go during yours?" Or to go at all? The latter question was unspoken, obviously, but Jasper wondered it none the less. He'd never seriously discussed it with anyone before. But everyone knew that you went on a Coming-Of-Age trip during the summer after you graduated and before you started work. It was a tradition, a big cultural tradition full of watch-giving and prestige. Jasper knew his mum had gone on one, her parents before her, their parents before them, and so on. As for his dad, he wasn't sure, but he figured the answer was yes. "I'm thinking that'd be fun." Of course it would be. Way to go, Jasper, state the obvious. he chided himself.

As the topic shifted to a decidedly darker theme, Jasper looked down and away. The events of the Memorial Ceremony weren't exactly the things he desired to discuss most, but they had to talk about it sooner or later and now was better than never. "I knew he was sort of aggressive, but I always thought it was just because he was a talented wizard who liked dueling. Dueling as an art, you know, to improve your skill... not a way to kill people." Waker explained and Jasper nodded - for lack of anything better to do - and replied in a quiet voice that was actually serious for once. "I know, right? But...do you- do you ever think you could kill someone like that? Just....off them.." he looked her dead in the eyes, his own green eyes dark with thoughts, "Like Gibson did. Because - because I, I don't think I could. Not even my own dad, and I figure I hate him more than around anyone else." Jasper shook his head softly. "A-and I was thinking...the war, ten years back, lots of people who fought...they couldn't have been much older than us. And they - they killed and murdered and were murdered and...killed and all. Even Harry Potter, he was just about seventeen and he murdered someone. Likely several someones. Harry Potter was the same age as Kyle Gibson, I figure. "

Jasper watched passively as Waker read the parchment his father had so generously provided and was pleased to see she was on his side. Not that he'd expected otherwise, but... It was always nice to have a supporter in things like this. He shrugged, "My dad's always had an 'It's-All-About-Me' personality, I suppose. There's not much to be done about it besides writing angry letters," he gestured towards the parchment with his hand. "But I hope he doesn't carry through with his threats and stop sending money. I need that money," the latter was spoken quietly, as though he didn't quite want Waker to know but he didn't want to hide it from her either, "Or I'll have to reject the internship - if I get it - to get a job." He scrunched up his nose. It wasn't as though a job was so repulsive, but the internship at the Ministry was so much more prestigious and interesting.

Money was a funny thing around Jasper's house. His mum, Kayla, had grown up the wealthy pureblood daughter and once she found herself on her own with a five-year old in tow, she'd been entirely helpless. They had their home due to Kayla's parents generosity and desire to keep their only daughter and their only grandson off the streets. She was unable to keep down a job for more than a year and was entirely inexperienced and lazy when it came to trying to keep a job anyways. When they had money - due to Lukas' monthly payments - she splurged and although Jasper never went hungry, he never had much spare change around, either.

"Oh, you'll get the internship for sure." Jasper assured her. "You're Waker Nolan, dear. Me, I dunno. And thanks, but -" he hesitated just a moment too long, "I should probably just floo. I wouldn't want to hold you up in the morning. Every morning."

Looking at where she had pointed, he shook his head. "No, I haven't tried any of them yet. I was waiting for you."

The girl nodded. It would have been the most advantageous outcome, to be raised in both worlds, that much was undeniable. And Waker was rather keen on half-bloods as of late, but she kept this thought to herself. She supposed she'd done fairly well, though, in her few short years as a fully-aware witch. And she knew Jasper could learn anything about the muggle world, if he wanted it enough. He was perhaps the most ambitious person she'd ever met. He didn't seem to dispute her advice on currency and cars, either.

A smile crossed the Ravenclaw's face when her friend asked what muggles would 'think of next'. She decided it was best to hold her tongue on that; if she started going into detail about space shuttles and the Internet, they might spend the rest of their lives under the tree. Waker didn't fancy having dead leaves for a wardrobe and squirrels for adopted family members, though she did enjoy telling Jasper all about the muggle world. For some reason, it sounded a lot more interesting than it actually was when all of it was so foreign to the audience (in this case, the Slytherin). "Don't make fun of me," she said simply. "I'm only relaying the truth. Would you rather we-- they-- drown?" There was a hint of humor in her voice, nonetheless. She was glad she had no aspirations to become a mime. If demonstrating a snorkel looked this ridiculous, she could only imagine the other hurtles she would face.

Waker knitted her brows, looking convincingly peeved to anyone in passing, as the Slytherin mocked her facetiously melancholy tone. But it was really only a harmlessly amusing suggestion that followed, and one that seemed to entertain the Ravenclaw as much it appeared to humor her friend. She smiled. She understood that even while Jasper could make a career of sarcasm, he didn't feel negatively toward muggles in the least.

"Jasper Quinn, you are a terrible human being," she lied, after he'd concluded his satirical speech. She was obviously kidding. She'd been the one to start the whole silly woe-is-me dialogue. And Waker could never him terrible, as Jasper was one of the few people she'd learned to trust mutually. No, Waker would leave the exchange of real insults to her friend and his callow father. "I'll force you to join that club and add it to your extracurricular transcript. You'll bake so many biscuits, you'll never want to look at sugar again." Suppressing another grin, the girl appeared to turn her full attention back to the picnic, carefully choosing an oatmeal biscuit even as they bantered on the topic of bake sales. When finally her gaze returned to the Slytherin, it was airy but fiendish. She bit into her cookie in a rather self-satisfied manner, as if daring the boy to argue her empty threat. Secretly, very secretly, Waker had pondered joining the muggle group on more than one occasion, if only with the outward claim of wanting to diversify her resume. She did, in fact, feel rather passionately about the acceptance of witches and wizards of all bloodlines, but it was not something she always chose to discuss without provocation. She'd already revealed too much of herself in the Remembering Day Project history class, and that was about as much as she could handle right now. Looking back, though, it had been something of a satisfying moment, and a definite hurtle finally overcome.

It was always a strange sensation, to know someone so well, but to possess wholly different experiences. Just as Jasper had probably known about Diagon Alley all his life, Waker had taken for granted things like candy floss machines and pop-corn poppers. "I'm sure there are more interesting things to discover on a trip like that," she laughed, pushing her hair into place before leaning back on her elbows for a moment. She had never considered a Coming-of-Age trip to be an absolute-must, mostly because she'd only learned about the tradition after she'd decided she was going to intern her heart out and be offered a full-time Ministry position. It was one of those strange things that had slipped through the cracks in her fingers as a muggleborn, no matter how diligent a learner she also happened to be. Of course, if it were a rule to go on this legendary trip, Waker was wary to break it. And she always admired the idea of being an exceptionally worldly individual. Travel seemed a requirement there. But it was that whimsical, unplanned, carefree element of backpacking across the globe that was ironically the most appealing and the most challenging bit for the girl. It was desirable, definitely, but so very foreign. "I never really..." She began, but trailed off. "Is it that huge of a deal?" She knew how pathetic she sounded, and almost cringed at herself. "I mean, not that I wouldn't want to, but I didn't realize how customary it was." Which was silly, because she'd always striven to know as much as the Hogwarts Library could offer. "Like the watches you get on your seventeenth birthday-- I swear, a boy almost had a heart attack a few years ago when I asked why they were so important."

Sitting up more properly again, Waker reflected. She had the distinct feeling Jasper was more attached to the idea than he was letting on. She was good enough at analyzing people, and they'd known each other long enough for her to have some idea, even if the Slytherin was also very good at hiding things. "Yes, it could be fun," she agreed, trying to sound more encouraging. She felt guilty for not realizing how it important it was to him. Long trips abroad were the sorts of things Waker planned ages in advance and had panic attacks over when she couldn't predict the outcome. "I always thought I would get a head start on work before everyone else starts applying and I have hard competition." She grinned a little at this. "I mean, if I pass my N.E.W.T.s and don't ruin my chances this summer." There were a million things that could wrong in the next year. "But... maybe. Spain might be nice," she admitted with an innocent shrug, thinking of a conversation she'd had with George several days ago about Barcelona and... other things. "What about you?"

The next question was a heavy one, and Waker hadn't anticipated it. Though, for the sake of school, she had gone so far as to formally debate Michael Jaymez in one of their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, arguing in favor of the Ministry being allowed to use Unforgivable Curses, Waker had never, even fleetingly and childishly, fathomed raising her wand to end a life. A tiny chill ran through her and she shook her head in one small, swift motion. "No, I couldn't either... I... Well, I'm sure there are times when... aurors, maybe..." She tried to sound dignified, but her carefully chosen words sounded more like a lack of experience to her own ears. She hated fumbling when she spoke. "When they've got children and old people and puppies to protect," she elaborated, sounding more like herself, but ending the thought abruptly and prematurely. It wasn't something she could allow herself to joke about. Not after what had just happened. She felt ill for even trying. "I couldn't just kill someone out of spite or do what Kyle did." She didn't think she could kill anyone, at all, ever. In the very back of her mind, it worried Waker that working at the Ministry might one day require something of her that she couldn't fulfill. What if they were faced with something like what Harry Potter had faced? Jasper's inquiry had opened the flood gates. Waker was lost. It was the sort of thing she assumed one had to decide right in the moment, and that was opposite of everything she'd striven to be her entire life. She took comfort, though, knowing that they seemed to share a similar fear.

However unpleasant a person Mr. Quinn presumably was, talking about him was infinitely easier (for Waker), than discussing death and killing people. And then there was the fact that she was sincerely curious and worried about her friend's unhealthy relationship (or lack thereof) with the man, and had been the one to bring it up. "That's awful," she admitted. "If you want a more boring father to exchange letters with, you can write to mine." She grinned mildly, trying to appear casual and cheerful, though the expression was not entirely without reservation. What sort of parent perpetually threatened his child? It made Waker feel ashamed to have ever complained about the Nolans-- which she did quite habitually, mostly in her diary, though very occasionally to friends whose own parental troubles were infinitely worse. "I don't know how he could stop supporting you and show his face at the Ministry everyday. That would be ridiculous."

The idea of Jasper having to pass up the internship he'd worked so hard earn made Waker angry. Suspending reality and her own worries that they might be rejected before they could even dream of stepping foot into the government building, she shot down his alternative prospects. "Absolutely you will not," she insisted. "Or I'll walk straight up to the Minister of Magic and tell him exactly what kind of upstanding citizen he has protecting his country-- one who can't even be bothered to make sure his son has a roof over his head." What a man. While Waker was no Gryffindor, and arguably didn't have the nerve to do such a thing, some things inspired scathing boldness in her. Jasper was too good a wizard to let his father stand in his way. And Waker had very little tolerance for people who shot down those who legitimately worked hard for something they wanted. Coming back to her senses, the fear of uncertainty washed over the Ravenclaw once more. "No, I'll only get it if you do. There's no way you could be rejected if I'm accepted," she insisted. If I'm accepted. Her competitiveness in the classroom didn't mean that there wasn't room to applaud similar-minded people. And Jasper was far more of an academic ally than someone Waker sought to perpetually beat. (Though they of course had their occasional fun challenging each other while studying for tests.)

Waker silently agreed to let him Floo to the Ministry, knowing that option was far more sensible for both of them. But if he were ever in a pinch, she would obviously revisit offer. Turning her attention back to the book, the Ravenclaw found herself pleased to hear that they would be able to investigate its contents together, here and now. "You didn't have to wait for me," she laughed, but she was glad all the same, and her tone implied as much. "Hmmm... I guess it could definitely aid our studying, no?" She tried to reason with herself, even as she privately decided that this book was worth more attention than all of the ones in her school bag combined. Giving her own curiosity a scholastic purpose made it more legitimate. She leaned closer to the page, cautiously running her pointer finger under the incantation of the spell that had caught her attention. Her lips formed the word silently, as if trying it on for size, but she did not actually speak it. Leaving her wand on the blanket, Waker instead lifted a quill and began to practice the wand movement that the book described. "I think we could use a standard Shield Charm to block it."

George had been preoccupied. It had all been fun and games before the ceremony. He’d been with Waker, enjoying himself in her company.  Then he’d gone with his aunt to the Memorial Ceremony more as a feeling of obligation… and now, his Uncle Leon was dead. He’d watched him fall off the stage, had been with his aunt as they tried to get to him, tried to figure out what happened and, for George, when he’d be okay.

How could his annoyingly self-righteous Uncle be gone? The man who’d helped George get an internship the summer before… who’d been there with his infuriatingly correct assumptions of George and his situation. He couldn’t even imagine how his aunt and cousins were dealing with it, let alone his grandparents. Hades, he hadn’t even gone past how he was feeling. And the bottom line of how he was doing was: not good.

As soon as he’d found out his uncle had died, he blocked himself off from others. The questions and condolences were overwhelming; after a while, they started to sound meaningless. He’d never lost someone so close to him… the last person he remembered was his Aunt’s husband, and that had been a long time ago… this was way too real. Unsure of how to handle it, not understanding his own feelings and emotions on the matter, he was finding outlets for his pain and anger.

Don’t let him hear anyone defend Kyle Gibson, though. He’d all ready been held down for nearly jumping on a younger student for mentioning it in passing. It was best to stay away from the castle as much as he could. George acknowledged he’d been a bit reclusive, which was very different for him, and hadn’t been very helpful to his friends… or Waker. Easier to push away right then, though.

That was why he was emerging from the mind-numbing water, stumbling slightly in the tangled weeds and loose mud under his feet. Letting out an exasperated growl into the water, he pushed himself up and tugged his foot out of the clump it was stuck in. Finally he was standing, knee deep in the water, dripping wet and shivering, but not noticing it very much. He had too much on his mind. George fixed his trunks as he started to walk towards the area he’d left his clothes.

That was when he saw her. Or… thought he saw her. Near the forest he could have sworn he saw Waker. The issue with stopping in mid stride was that his foot had sunk farther and was harder to pull up out of the mud, forcing another stumble. Brushing some water off his arms, he checked to make sure he had his wand before moving closer to where he thought she was; lucky for him, it was near his clothes as well.

His time down under the depths had given him time to think about a few things, and one of the things he'd realized was that he kept pushing away the people who wanted to help, or at least wanted to be there. And though he didn't like people feeling sorry for him, he was attempting to look at it from their point of view. The very person on his mind at that moment was there! Unless he was just overly dehydrated... He had broken the surface coughing and sputtering because he'd been reckless with his bubble head charm and had lost his air supply ten or fifteen meters from the surface...

He lifted a hand and waved it, a sharp intake of breath coming as he stumbled backwards, his arms flailing out to keep himself up. Cursing under his breath, he hoped she hadn't seen him and started to stomp-wade his way to where she was.

He shook his head lightly, jokingly, though it was sincere. Muggles, bizarre and detatched from his world, were still too essential for them to possibly just not exist.


"Jasper Quinn, you are a terrible human being," she lied and he smiled. "Oh, I know. Isn't it lovely?" Jasper asked sarcastically. "I'll force you to join that club and add it to your extracurricular transcript. You'll bake so many biscuits, you'll never want to look at sugar again." He smirked. "Aww, the poor muggles would die of food poisoning, 'specially since I can't cook." It was mostly in jest, but it was true that Jasper was incapable of cooking, and he was even worse with cooking than Potions - at least with Potions you weren't trying to solidify anything. And there was always some sort of magical solutions to the Potion messes, but not necessarily to cooking.

As they approached the topic of the Coming-of-Age trip, Jasper was distinctly startled to learn that Waker didn't realize the importance of Coming-of-Age trips and watch-giving. "Like the watches you get on your seventeenth birthday-- I swear, a boy almost had a heart attack a few years ago when I asked why they were so important." And, with a start, he realized he had absolutely no clue. They were just so customary and familiar. “They-they’re traditional,” he stammered, and Jasper never stammered, “You can’t be just legal without a watch to tell your own time. That’s why I got you that watch back when it was your birthday. And Coming-of-Age trips used to be….just for the wealthy, upper class and such. But as of- as of hundred or so years ago, all wizards and witches began taking them. They’re for…finding your own way,” he looked away, “Finding, y’know, who you are and all.” They discussed it some more and Jasper just listened as Waker told him about Spain and at her question, he just shrugged. “I’m not too sure, really. I think I’d like to go to Italy. Or the Americas.”

He was glad to hear she didn’t think she could end a life. A grin popped on his face as Waker suggested he write to her father. “Dear Mr. Waker,” Jasper tried not to grin as he spoke in a monotone and mimed writing with a quill on the air. “You don’t really know me but I’m Jasper Quinn, your daughter’s friend and I was hoping you’d be my owl pal? I was hoping you could start with an explanation of the muggle mail system. It seems so funny to put your mail into a box.” He smirked.

Jasper flushed, looking away. “It’s okay. I mean, it’d suck but I could live. You don’t have to get all worked up over it,” he scoffed, looking rather uncomfortable in his own skin. “And you’ll get the internship, Wake. How could you not? You are, like I said, Waker Nolan, dear. Though,” Jasper added, “I hope they owl us soon. I hate waiting.”
“Alright.” He agreed, “Let’s see, fulgur. It says ‘flash bright for humans spark’.” Jasper looked at Waker inquisitively. “So like a beam of light? Like a directed lumos, I guess.” He shrugged. “I’ll just shoot it off and….we’ll see what happens?” Jasper pulled out his wand, pointed it in a direction he didn’t think anyone was in. “Fulgur!” a bright blue light flashed out of his wand, jagged and obviously dangerous. It charred a bush as it passed on and Jasper ended it with a quick finite, leaping to his feet. “Great goblins! I hope nobody was…in the way.”

"Aww, the poor muggles would die of food poisoning, 'specially since I can't cook."

"That's true, I don't think I'd want to unleash you on the school quite like that," she admitted, still smiling. "Maybe I'll force you into a cooking class instead of the muggle club." Waker could certainly stand to have lessons, too. She was pretty good at following recipes, but she followed almost too exactly, so that there was never anything adventurous about what she made. And they were all her grandmother's-- or worse, her mother's-- rather bland creations. She wondered if cooking, like quidditch, was just one of those things people either took to immediately or didn't, and that was that. Of course, she constantly argued with herself over that theory, too. "I bet you secretly make brilliant chocolate chip biscuits."

She listened to Jasper readily defend the importance of such a tradition, and felt even guiltier for not understanding its full meaning. She would definitely have to do some reading on this; perhaps a wizarding novel or two might be better than an encyclopedia or history book. Teaching for the watch, which was still sitting on the blanket, Waker held it up and flashed its face, sure to let Jasper know that it was still in mint condition and that she would always cherish it, even if she wasn't wearing it at the moment-- which, again, made her feel a little criminal. She carefully strapped it on and stared down at the time. It was as accurate as the Atomic Clock.

"And Coming-of-Age trips used to be….just for the wealthy, upper class and such. But as of- as of hundred or so years ago, all wizards and witches began taking them. They’re for…finding your own way. Finding, y’know, who you are and all."

Looking up from the time piece, Waker studied the Slytherin carefully. It was beginning to make more sense, she had to admit to herself, even if watching him struggle to explain was a bit awkward for both of them. At least it was Jasper she was talking to. There were only two or three people in the world she could stumble over her own words with, and not squirm in the process. "Well, then it sounds like something we both need to do, doesn't it?" She asked quietly, but encouragingly. She didn't want him to think she thought it was entirely ridiculous; she didn't. "Maybe you'll pick up Italian," she laughed. "Or a Yankee accent."

The Ravenclaw had to smile at the idea of such a letter. She could imagine her father writing back to Jasper with enthusiasm that was nevertheless rushed and full of nerdy, wonderfully vanilla humor, in his messy doctor's script. "That's Dr. Waker to you," she prodded. "He'd probably be thrilled, though, really. He'll write you a whole novel on our post system if you ask that." Somehow or another. Even if he worked quite a lot, the man was better at committing himself to paper. She supposed it wasn't an uncommon trait for busy fathers. Even Jasper's father wrote to him-- hostile as it was.

Waker held her tongue, but privately decided that if push came to shove, and Jasper's father pulled the rug out from under him, she might have to say something. But what? "Let's not worry about it," she said, quite uncharacteristically. "We both have a good chance, and I don't think you'll have to choose a job over an internship. There has to be a way for things to work out." If only she could believe herself. "And when you get your owl, come by the Ravenclaw table and we'll open them together, alright?" She encouraged. But then she frowned a little. "Actually, I don't know if I could wait."

After practicing the spell a few times without her wand, Waker watched with silent admiration, but also a bit of apprehension-- the spell's intention was still not quite clear-- while the Slytherin decided to give it a shot. And a shot it was. The spell flashed past with force and ferocity, causing Waker to stir. As it singed the neighboring foliage, the Ravenclaw quickly climbed to her feet, leaning close to the boy and attempting desperately to determine what, if anything, it had hit. Her eyebrows rose and fell again, furrowing as she squinted. "Is that... a person?" She asked, her voice uncertain, but struck with a touch of panic.

Waker took a few steps forward, her lanky limbs suddenly feeling like a fawn's. She looked back at Jasper, her face becoming more blanched by the moment. She walked briskly, and then began running in the direction the spell had traveled. Despite long legs and a practiced pace, the Ravenclaw couldn't match the magic's speed. She could only hope Jasper had uttered finite in time, or that her own mind's eyes were playing tricks. That the spell had taken a turn, or fizzled out.

She saw someone materialize before them. Definitely human, definitely familiar, definitely... "Oh, god." Any color that was left in the girl's face drained completely as she realized the spell's probable victim. Waker dug her fingers into her scalp. She felt a scream climb into her throat, but it didn't come out. The only thing that did, the only thing she could manage, was a name. "George!"

He realized quickly how much of a pain it was to try and get out of the lake from where he was heading towards. He had distracted himself from his surroundings when he saw Waker. Once the trees got in the way, however, he focused on the area in front of him and stared at the steep incline; a short ‘cliff’ so to speak. It was probably as tall as him, had he been out of the water. Mud and roots and tufts of grass… Well, he could just pull himself over it. That made sense. Easier to go through an obstacle than around it.

Or maybe that was the wrong way to look at it… maybe he had it backwards. Nevertheless, he felt the need to see her again, and as the bushes and other bits of nature were suddenly in his way… well, his brain worked far enough. Once he was to the little wall of dirt and roots, he jumped out of the water slightly, grunting as it threatened to pull him back under, the pull of wet clothes hampering him slightly. Holding on to the roots, however, he slowly put a foot up and held on, taking step by step as he hoisted himself up.

It wasn’t all that bad, considering he was just in some trunks. George did mind all the mud now getting on his feet, but he figured he could just wash himself off with his wand once he got up. A hand came up and over the edge, grasping onto a nearby root, slowly pulling himself up over it. Once his chest was on solid ground, he took a moment to catch his breath.

Perhaps if he’d stayed there a little bit longer, or had slipped on the way up, or any other number of things, he wouldn’t have been hit with the spell. Perhaps it was fate, for those who believe in it. Or perhaps just a very cruel master who wanted to watch one of their disciples wither in pain. All depended on how one looked at it. Whatever it was, he was the unlucky one who got to be the guinea pig for the spell hungry teenagers, unbeknownst to him.

He had just hooked his knee over, pushing himself up from his hands and knees, when he heard his voice. The spell was quicker than his head, however, and it slammed metaphorically onto the top of his head, igniting like a spark. The sudden heat hit him, and as he realized what happened, he stood up suddenly, tripping in the now wet mud. His mouth opened in shock and he tried to shake it off, not realizing until after he put his hands to it that it would burn.

And did it burn. It seemed to spread then to his hands. His scream came out sudden and deafening as it seemed to spread to anywhere it touched. Scrambling around, trying to put it out, he finally stumbled backwards into the suddenly welcoming lake, his screams muffled by the sound of splashing followed by hissing water. The flame ran down his back as he scrambled forward to a deeper part of the shore. He didn’t notice the boulder he ran right into, collapsing into the water as his world went dark. At least there it wasn’t as painful.

They chattered on and on about muggles and Coming-of-Age trips and Waker's father's apparent interest in the muggle post system. Jasper's heart wasn't really in it, and he felt as though he hadn't aptly defended the roots of what he saw as british wizarding culture. It was hard and bizarre to explain at times, just too different from the standards of the muggle british culture.

Mere moments after he'd shot the spell, worry and doubt shot into Jasper sharply. "Is that... a person?" Waker breathed and Jasper's eyes went wide with panic. "Oh, Merlin, no." he hissed out to himself, palms feeling sweaty with fear and panic. Waker shot past him, looking for any victims of Jasper's spell. Merlin! That was so reckless. How could I do that? he thought to himself, but a deep heavy shadow in his mind told him he knew the answer. He'd been showing off and there was horrible reprecussions. "George!" she shrieked and Jasper sprinted over to her, adrenaline shooting up through his veins. Oh no, oh no. He finally caught up with her and was relieved to see all that was relieved to see there was more of George left than just a lump of smoldering flesh. "Oh my merlin! Are...are you alright?" It was a stupid question. Of course he wasn't alright.

Waker watched, horrified as George screamed and made contact with a heavy boulder in the water. She could only pray that the hexed, fiery substance had been extinguished. Instantly grabbing Jasper's wrist, she pulled him into the shallow water with her and waded through reeds to where George had fallen. Waker used her wand to cut away at thick bits of sea plant that seemed to be trying to trap them all. It was all she could do to stop herself from sinking into the thick mud underfoot and giving up in a fit of panic and anxiety. She tried desperately to stay collected, to breathe as she pulled the boy out of the water. "Grab his other side," she murmured to her friend. She was whiter than a sheet now.

When they'd pulled George close enough to the shore, Waker lifted her wand again and sent a spark flying in the direction of the castle, as close to Professor Greyfriar's office window as she could manage. Though, at this point, Waker would take any help they could get. She sent another spark toward the gamekeeper's hut, as it was the closest place to where they were. With that done, she tried to stead her hand and silently levitated George's unconscious form into the air. The boy's limpness did nothing to put her at ease. She was hesitant, terrified, but touched his wrist. At least his heart was still beating.

"Let's get him to the castle."

The Ravenclaw had no choice but to use a quick drying charm on her boots before moving any further; they were full of water. She ignored the soaking ends of her skirt, however, and began to trek further up the shore. When they reached solid ground, she moved faster, bringing George along with them. She hoped help would reach them sooner. Her eyes darted everywhere, seeking out a human-- anyone, anyone who could help.