Where Are You?

[Avie Mitchell]

For the past six months something in Avie's mind had slowly been building, a worry had been forming, an obscure feeling to him. It was a non important worry which had just lingered within the teen's mind, lingered longer than any previous worry. He had been able to ignore it pretty well, it just stayed deep down, but things were changing. It had just remained quiet, but as Avie's year had been pretty good, this worry had been growing, no matter how much he occupied himself it creeped back. The usually bright and active teen was struggling that morning, it seemed like the worry was making itself truly known. He'd watched during breakfast as the school mail had arrived, hoping for that letter he'd been waiting for for months but after all the owls had came and went it appeared that there was still no letter from the only person Avie really wanted to hear from. He had nothing, he'd had nothing months, not even a slight whisper. His aunt sent him the occasional letter, or package, her last one had been a few days after halloween, he still had the letter in his pocket but he didn't really know what it said, he had been able to gather from it though that he was to stay at Christmas over the holidays, but there had been no reason why he was to, usually his mother was the one to tell him this, usually she sent him letters throughout the year, usually she gave a reason for why he couldn't go home for Christmas. She always wrote in her usual cursive hand writing which Avie couldn't read, but seeing it, being able to trace the words with his finger was enough for the teen. A reminder that she hadn't forgotten about him, that despite their strange relationship she remembered him, they had always been close. This seemed like something which had now happened.

Avie was currently sitting in the Owlery, his aunt's and his mother's last letters in his pocket, too big to really fit. His mother's last letter had been strange to say the least, it had been sent over six months ago, he had asked his friend to tell him what it said, after really being unable to read her hand writing no matter how neat she made him, and it had been all about taking a journey and how proud she was of him. It had been unusually emotional, but Avie had just enjoyed hearing that she loved him to read between the lines or even understand it, his mother was on a journey he understood that, but could she not write on this journey. So, he just sat, with these letters, hoping that his mother would write to him soon, because he didn't know what else to do. He had written so many letters, he had asked her to send him a picture frame so that he could give it to Lucien for Christmas, he wanted to do that for his friend, but he couldn't do it without being sent one. All the letters he sent, were met with silence. The boy wasn't exactly crafty, no one trusted him to try to make the frame, but if he wasn't sent one, Avie would, he would just make one. Avie didn't know a lot of things, he struggled to understand many things but he knew that he wasn't bright, he knew he was stupid, he assumed that people probably made fun of him because of it, it didn't really bother the teen. He didn't mind that, he could see right passed that, he just wanted to be able to understand why his mother wasn't writing to him, to understand if he'd done something wrong because it wasn't like she knew that he couldn't read, she couldn't be annoyed with him because he'd failed to be a good and smart son, it couldn't be that.

The slytherin boy knew that he would never do well in school, he had never been bothered by any of those things, he had always had his mother, and now she didn't seem to want to talk to him, she had been proud of him, she believed he would be a great writer like she was. Who did he have left if she decided that he was no longer worth her time, Avie had the two letters sticking out of his pocket as he petted one of the school owls who had chosen to sit with him. He would sit and wait, and maybe if he waited all day, maybe he'd get something. Avie was clinging to the idea that the letters she was sending were just getting lost, left somewhere and forgotten. They couldn't get lost if Avie spent his time in the Owlery, watching the owls go in and out, watching other students send letters. He would know, and then perhaps he'd find those letters from his mother, because there was no reason why she wouldn't have by now sent him a letter. She always did, she had ever other year. She always sent him a letter. She had to, what reason could she possibly have for not? She always eventually sent him something.
​

 

[Esme Lancaster]

Esme was a frequent visitor to the Owlery, spending more time in the tall, stone bricked tower that oversaw the entirety of the Hogwarts ground and its encompassing forest than anywhere else within the castle. She was, to say the least, not the friendliest of people when it came to interacting with her fellow classmates. She was, once upon a time. She'd always had at least some distaste for anyone with muggle heritage, of course, growing up in a magical background focused on purity wasn't exactly easy, but that distaste hadn't blossomed into complete hatred until she first started attending the academy. History of Magic was the initial trigger, learning about how savage the non-magical race had been to wizardkind throughout the course of time. The Salem Witch Trials had been a big impact, especially considering she had grown up in the town. Then of course came the pressure and judgement from her family for so much as breathing the same air as a muggle-born. Over the course of the years she'd changed without even realising it, but she found she enjoyed it. It was all about status, and she felt like royalty among some of the other students. The only drawback was that this hadn't earned her too many friends, but rather a handful of enemies. So, when she wasn't around the few people who's presence she could tolerate, she sent and received letters to her brother in Durmstrang. He was the only person on the planet she felt really understood her, someone she could confide in about anything. Her parents just didn't seem to have that emotional capacity. Sometimes she'd write to Emeric and Lythande too, but when it came down to it, Emmett, her sole sibling, was the only one she could count on. It pained her to be separated from him over the school year.

So, a roll of parchment in her hand, the Lancaster witch ascended the spiraling staircase, stopping once she'd reached it's top. Usually when she came, the tower was relatively empty and quiet, or at least once you'd gotten used to the sounds of feathers rustling and the occasional hoot, or click of a beak. Even her feline, the dark-furred half-kneazle who was almost constantly at her heels, stayed behind during these trips. What she considered a messenger, he considered dinner. But a familiar face occupied the feather-littered room today. She'd only really hung out with the boy once, but she didn't mind him. In fact she'd enjoyed his company. Avie wasn't irritating like many of the other students and being around he and Lucien had made her feel comfortable. He was a dork, but kind of cute in a simple way. Lucien seemed to get along with him, so despite not knowing his blood type herself, perhaps he was safe to interact with. Last time she'd even spoken to a muggle-born her mother had slapped her across the face and lectured her for a good hour. It would have been a lot worse if she had of told her father instead, she knew. Avie didn't seem to really be doing anything. She could see the white paper poking from his pockets, but it didn't look like he was sending anything. He just kind of sat there. The Slytherin girl entered the room, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind one ear, and out of her face. She smiled softly toward the boy, a friendly expression that not many people really got to see from her. "Hello, Avie. Waiting for something?" She asked curiously, figuring perhaps he was expecting a letter, or to meet someone there. It was not the most pleasant smelling of meeting places, but the view was nice.

I do hope you don't mind me joining.​

 

[Avie Mitchell]

Avie did not often ventured to the Owlery, he enjoyed the owls and he enjoyed animals, but he didn't particularly like anything else about it. It smelled funny and it was dirty in a way that he didn't like he enjoyed the water and the mud, but this owlery had stains in it that even Avie would attempt to try to figure out, not that he would be able to do it anyway. He didn't spend that much time in the Owlery, he didn't send enough letters, and his mind was usually too active to be able to focus on this room. He was usually in and out of this room, attach the letter and then out and on to better and far more interesting things which was never sitting around in the Owlery petting an owl that wasn't actually his instead of doing something that he was actually interested in. Like playing in the lake, they had just learned the bubblehead charm, and while he'd been having some trouble with it, it was what he wanted to do today, but he really couldn't. After not receiving any mail from home, and it being so long without him getting anything from his mother he had decided that he had to go sit in the Owlery and to try to see if he could find these letters, if the owl was bringing his mail but between there and the hall they were getting lost. He was feeling pretty worried, a feeling he really didn't get often, Avie despite his many issues didn't often worry about things. He maybe lack the brains and knew he was unlikely to ever end up in a good job, but those were not things he worried about, they were things that sat on his mind but they were not worries. His mother not contacting him, that was a worry.

Avie had been pretty casually paying attention to the owl at his feet, he was sitting cross legged with the bird sitting in front of his ankles. Despite the slight worry lines on his face the boy still looked pretty content. He had heard the door open, and paused in his petting of the owl to look at who was coming into the room, upon realising that it was Esme, a girl he had met once and was from what he gathered mostly Lucien's friend, he just smiled brightly at her as she seemed to smile back at him, he would've been the first to greet her had she not started speaking first, "Hello, Esme!" he greeted warmly with a bright little wave, startling the owl with a little bit, he glanced down at the owl, and tried to mimic the noise that owls made, trying to get the owl to rewarm to him, "I'm waiting!" he told her with a bright smile, then the smile slipped slightly, "My ma, she was supposed to send me a letter by now, I think it got lost, so I'm waiting!" Avie said trying his best to remain bright, his smile faltering slightly though he was just trying to remain positive, he began motioning to the fact he was sitting on the floor clearly waiting, trying his best to stay positive about it all, "Are you waiting for something or sending something? Do your parents forget to write to you?" he asked her hurriedly. Avie then motioned to the area in front of him, he didn't know Esme that well, and she was friends with Lucien and if Lucien liked her, he would too, "Do you want to join me waiting?" Avie smiled brightly, he thought it would be better to sit and wait with someone else rather than alone, he wanted to keep his mind off it, and being with someone else might be of help to him. Avie pulled off his jumper and then laid it down on the ground in front of him so that she could sit if she wanted to. He had left enough space between himself and the jumper for the owl which was sitting in front of him currently. Avie hoped that Esme would sit with him at least for a little bit, he knew that without sitting with someone he would fall asleep.
​

This could've been better admittedly.

 

[Esme Lancaster]

Following his return of her greeting, Esme had to choke back a laugh as Avie began to make owl noises at the startled avian he sat with. It was definitely not something she could ever see herself being caught doing. If it had been anyone else, she might have thought them a freak and walked straight out without a backwards glance, deciding to post her letter another time. But the Slytherin boy was a little different from everyone else she knew. She didn't think it was possible for someone to dislike him. As he spoke to her, explaining that he was waiting on a letter from his "ma" that he thought was lost, the witch could see his expression visibly fall, that bright smile of his no longer all that bright. It was a little strange to hear, owls were generally the best at delivering letters, after all, that's why they were the most common method of long distance communication. As far as she knew none of the letters she'd sent, or those that had been sent to her, had gone missing during its travel. Still, surely it happened from time to time. "I'm positive it'll turn up eventually. Maybe it went to the wrong person by mistake?" She said with a tone of reassurance, or what she thought was close to it for someone who'd never really had to reassure another person before.

When Avie questioned as to whether she was sending or receiving, she held up the envelope in her hands. "I'm sending. My brother and I write to each other weekly. He's all the way in Durmstrang so I don't get to see him that much. This is the best we can do." She explained, her fingernails tracing the sharp corners of the envelopes papery surface. She frowned slightly at the question of whether her parents forgot to write to her. No, they didn't, they just never intended to write at all. Not once had she received a letter from her parents during her fourish years at the school. But the frown disappeared just as quickly as it had come when he invited her to sit. He'd even laid out his jumper for her. How could she say no to waiting with him? She didn't have anything else to do. "You're such a gentleman Avie. Don't ever change that." She told him, her smile warm and friendly, melting away her usual cold features. She stepped over the jumper, not wanting to dirty it with her shoes, especially considering the amount of owl droppings that were no doubt on her soles, and seated herself on the fabric. But, to answer your question, my parents don't forget to write to me. They, well, they just don't write at all. We kind of just catch up during holidays. But it's fine because I have my brother and cousins who contact me instead." She said with a small shrug of her shoulders. Speaking of her brother, the witch looked up and clicked her fingers for her own owl to come. A plump earless breed with saucepan eyes who had clearly eaten more mice than perhaps necessary descended to her side. She tied the envelope she held to his talon and the bird, her letter clutched firmly in its grip, raised its wings and took flight, soaring through the open window. She watched it go before looking back at Avie and the owl he'd befriended. Or perhaps it was his? "So, how long have you been waiting?" She asked, curious to know if he'd been sitting there alone for long. She did doubt that his missing letter would just show up in the minutes, or even hours he might sit there. Who knew if it would arrive today, if at all.

Don't say that, your posts are always great oh my god. Look at my trainwrecks over here.​

 

[Avie Mitchell]

It hadn't occurred to the teen that making little owl noises to calm the startled owl would be at all strange to anyone else. It was just a way of speaking to it, a way of showing it care in Avie's mind, with his dog back home he did the same, made little growling or barking noises, oh how he wished he could have that dog here now. His aunt had forbidden him to bring the dog, or his little stuffed toy of the dog, but he was happy to have the owl in front of him to just past the time. It was always nice to have a little company, it was a little thing that he could play with, and Avie knew if his mind wasn't doing something he would grow bored and fall asleep, if he fell asleep he might miss it, and all the sitting around would've been for nothing, he didn't want to miss another letter because she had to be sending them. It would've been mightily pointless if he'd fallen asleep, so he didn't want to startle the owl or scare it away when Esme inevitably decided she had better things to do. As he explained to Esme about the lost letters, or the possibly lost letters he had a small smile on his face, but it wasn't the usual bright smile he usually wore, no matter how much he tried as he faced the worry and reality of his mother's lack of letters he couldn't bring himself to be completely happy, the worry in his mind too strong for the usual happiness to shine through. Nothing he'd been doing had quietened it, not even the possibility of new rocks from different areas of the lake, this, sitting here was something he felt he needed to do. At her words, his expression did visibly improve, "Maybe it did, post can get mixed up! I hope they didn't read any of the letters," Avie said, the last part he muttered as more of a thing to himself, he didn't want others reading his mail, he knew they wouldn't have anything private on them but he still didn't want people reading them. The letters between him and his aunt, well, people could have at them. The teen had no concern for them. The thought that the letters existed but it was just someone else who had them filled the teen with pure hope.

The Slytherin teen glanced at the envelope that the girl was holding up for him to see, and then listened as she explained that she and her brother wrote to one another, and that they were to different schools which was why they had to write, "Why doesn't he go here?" He asked, out of curiosity, Hogwarts to Avie was the best school, was and would always be. He knew no other school would let him stay with all his antics and his difficulties no matter the extra stuff he did, but Hogwarts was a home away from home. It lacked tree-houses and vegetable gardens but it had everything else. His second question to her he knew was a little strange but he wouldn't exactly hold Esme to an answer, he would try to get a response, but if he lost that battle it would be no great loss. He didn't notice her frown, too busy inviting her to sit with him by laying out his jumper for her to sit, which she seemed to agree to, "A gentleman? I'm a gentleboy? I'm too young to be a man," he told her firmly, being a man meant being grown up and that was the last thing he wanted to do, he didn't really understand what she'd meant by it, but then as she began to answer his earlier question, Avie realised that she was now sitting on his last two letters. Avie nodded along as she spoke, though kept glancing down at the pocket, he was still listening but didn't understand why her parents wouldn't write to her, didn't they care about how she was getting along? Avie smiled however at her as much as he could with all the buzzing and worry of his mind, "My ma, she always writes, she always writes," he repeated as Esme appeared to summon her owl so she could send her letter, he took this opportunity to reach forward to the jumper pocket and remove the two letters, which he then tightly held, well crushed, in his hand, with his other free hand, he went back to stroking the little owl that seemed to nudge into his fingers.

At her question he just shrugged, he had no clue how long he'd been sat there, Avie had no watch, "Since just after the mail arrived this morning," he told her with a strange tone of pride at the fact that he'd lasted however long he'd lasted, "I've been writing to my ma, she doesn't reply. My ma wasn't there during the last break, I didn't mind you know I thought she'd found out about the fact I was getting really terrible grades and that I can't read and been too upset about my failure to want to talk to me but I thought she'd write while I was away and she hasn't written," with every word that Avie uttered he seemed to be growing more desperate, more worried, more upset, "My aunt said she's on a journey but, is it a journey where she can't write at least once," Avie's gaze had been held firmly on the owl, he knew that Esme was a slytherin, and usually he would burden these issues, on the few occasions he had any to his Hufflepuff friends, but the words had spilled out and just kept spilling.
​

 

[Esme Lancaster]

The Slytherin girl raised her head, listening as the boy enquired about why her brother didn't attend their school. She breathed out a soft sigh as she thought about it, not even entirely sure of the situation herself. She had a fair idea, at least. "He goes there rather than here because...well, the subjects that institute provides are more suited towards my families...interests, than what this school has to offer." She wasn't going to outright say that they all studied the Dark Arts, not entirely sure what his take on that branch of magic would be. He seemed so innocent. She herself simply saw it as just knowledge she deserved to have, additional skill, something that might one day even save her life. "Dark Arts" was just a term coined by the Ministry. "Dangerous and sometimes lethal, but not necessarily evil" arts was probably too long for everyone to remember. She remembered learning about how using such magic could potentially warp a person's physical appearance, but the only person known to be affected was Lord Voldemort, and he had literally had his corporeal form destroyed. But no one, not a single other person in history known to use "dark" magic seemed to change. It was all just a big lie to try and control people. "All of my other family goes there too, I'm the odd one out. Black sheep, in a way. My parents didn't think I was cut out for it. Personally, I disagree, but I couldn't argue with them. I've tried to every year, but they won't let me go. " They were so wrong. She would have fitted in perfectly. Somehow her flower-loving cousin had been allowed to go, but not her? It didn't make any sense at all. Sure, he had his two older siblings to look out for him, but she had Emmett, in the unlikely case that she was unable to look after herself. They would have ruled together. Instead she was left here, with the lesser people. It was just so unfair. Her expression had hardened again, but softened back up after Avie started to say that he was a gentleboy. She shook away thoughts of the injustice and smiled. "Of course, a gentleboy. Only a few more years before we're adults though." She commented, feeling as if time passed by at a much faster pace since she'd enrolled at the school. She was already in her fourth year, there was just three left to go before she graduated.

With her owl departed, her letter firmly in its talons, the witch sat with her friend. Were they friends? This was only the second time they'd hung out, but she liked to think so. Was acquaintance more suited? Or somewhere in between. She could do with more of them, she supposed. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn't her relative for a change. The Slytherin opened her mouth in shock once her friend-quaintance told her he'd been sitting there since the mail had arrived that morning. Her eyes shifted, gazing up towards the sun perched high in the sky. Had he really been there that long? She turned her attention back to him as he continued talking, listening to him describe how his mother hadn't been responding. She knew nothing of his home-life and thought that perhaps she didn't care about him, not unlike her own parents, but he seemed to be close to her. Enough to care and sit waiting for a letter at least. She wasn't sure how to respond, he was clearly upset but the only time a person had really been that way in front of her was usually because of how she'd treated them, and each time it had brought her some satisfaction, a feeling of power, but this wasn't the same. It was like watching an injured animal on the side of the road. The girl leaned forward, ignoring the owl between them, and touched his shoulder with slight uncertainty. It felt like the right thing to do. She gave it a gentle squeeze. Maybe she would have even hugged him if there wasn't a bird barring her way. "Avie, hey. It's alright. I'm sure there's a really really good reason behind her not writing. Who cares if your grades are bad? No one is perfect. Hah, well,, that's not always true." She commented with a slight flip of her hair across her shoulder, but it was more an attempt at some humor than her genuinely suggesting she was without flaws. She had plenty, but she wouldn't admit that. "In all honesty, not everyone is capable of getting great grades, or...reading. You really can't read?" She asked, but immediately took it back, not intending to insult him. She couldn't remember learning to read, it felt like it was some innate knowledge everyone possessed. "That doesn't make you a failure though! There's plenty of things you're probably a lot better at than other people. You just need to find where your talents lie. Whatever makes you happy is all that matters in the end. Like, throwing mudballs?" She recalled, a little hopelessly. There wasn't much she knew about him, but he had wanted to make some to throw at firsties when they first met. It was quite an unusual thing, considering they wielded wands with far more incredible capabilities than dirt and water mixed together. "Your aunt said your mother was on a journey, right? So, what if there's no paper where she is? She might be backpacking along some mountains or something. Camping out at night in a tent. I don't imagine there's much ink laying around. Or she could be traveling the world so much that it...it confuses the owls and they don't know where to go." She gave his shoulder another squeeze, not entirely sure if she even believed what she was telling him. Certainly he hadn't just been abandoned, right? If it had been her who was unable to read, or get good grades, she had no doubt that her family would have tossed her out. It was a lot of pressure trying to keep up with her classes. But his situation seemed far different to what she had grown up with. "Wherever your...ma is, I bet she's thinking about you. Try not to focus on the negative possibilities. I'm sure she loves you and wouldn't want you to think these things." Esme couldn't help but feel a little envious of his relationship with his own parent. Esme might not have minded it if say, her father just disappeared one day.
​

 

[Avie Mitchell]

Avie had heard of the other magical schools, but he had never thought about them teaching anything different from what was taught at Hogwarts, he had never let his mind be concerned with such trivialities. Not that it would've really listened or stuck with such thoughts if his mind had tried to concern itself with such things. They were pretty boring in Avie's mind so he didn't care about them in the slightest, he thought however that it was interesting that she hadn't gone, especially as she explain that she was the only one to not go, and that her parents hadn't considered her not cut out for it, whatever the it was. He frowned slightly at this, he didn't know Esme that well, but from what he knew about her she seemed more than capable of being able to cut it, how hard could it really be? He gave the girl a small smile, "I think you'd be cut out for it," Avie told her softly obviously he had no idea what she was really meaning, but he felt that she just needed a little bit of reassurance in the same way that Avie had always liked how Ciro had encouraged him when he'd felt truly desperate or frustrated during the few study sessions that Avie had had with him. He was pleased that Esme had come here to Hogwarts instead of the other school, though this was only the second time they'd hung out, he liked her, she seemed a good person and possible friend, "Hogwarts is better, it has a lake with rocks, lots of awesome rocks," he told her, of course Avie had no idea if the other school had a lake with rocks or not, but at this point that was the advantage the boy could see Hogwarts having and to him it was a pretty big advantage. Perhaps rocks were only his passion but that was a reason why he preferred this school, so that was what he would say to her. However, saving him from having to pitch Hogwarts to his friend, the teen had of course told Esme he was a gentle boy, not a gentleman and at her words he shook his head, "Never! Adults are boring, my cousins are adults and they are super boring now, all they do is sit around and talk about politics or the economy or the weather. I never want to not have fun," Avie told her as if it was obvious that he didn't want to grow up, "I'll be Peter Pan, flying around, having fun, staying young forever!" Avie had seen the Peter Pan film and he'd always loved the idea of Peter Pan, of never growing up, of having adventures. It had been everything the boy had ever desired from life, he didn't understand those who wanted to grow up. Avie never wanted to grow up, because his aunt had always told him, when you grow up that's it, you can no longer sit around all day and just have fun. She'd told him about responsibilities that he had to have, and that playing around in the mud was never going to last forever.

Avie clutched the last letters tightly in his hand, gripping more tightly as he'd grown more upset as he'd been speaking. He didn't know where his mother was, and right now all he wanted was to sit with her and for her to tell him that she loved him. All he wanted from her was to know that she hadn't forgotten about him, that they'd see each other soon, if not during these coming holidays then the next. Just knowing that she was alright would be enough for him, enough to at least calm these thoughts and worries about her. He would know that she was just too busy to write, or had simply forgotten, or that the letters had maybe gotten lost. Avie glanced as Esme squeezed his shoulder and through all the unhappiness he still managed to smile, he smiled at her, glad for what little comfort this was providing him. He couldn't help but laugh at her commented, "You are perfect, you could have a little more fun, but Avie can show you how to do that so you'll be doubly perfect," he told her, stumbling over the word perfect in his slightly more emotional state. Avie thought that Esme was pretty perfect, he didn't care much for looks, for her looks, but she seemed pretty perfect to him, her life seemed together and perfect to him. At her question about him reading he just shook his head, he could read bits and pieces but he was slow and it didn't come easily to him, he didn't even get insulted or remotely annoyed when she asked, just responding in a very matter-of-fact way. Avie didn't know how to explain his lack of reading skills and was glad when Esme continued speaking, he usually didn't mind in the slightest his lack of intelligence or his inability to really read, but right now with the worry because of his mother he was just feeling it full force. He knew he was good at other things, he was good at quidditch, he wasn't terrible at taking pictures, he knew he had talents elsewhere, but right now, his lack of academic talents like his cousins, or his mother were weighing down on his mind. Having fun was what he wanted, and what he could do, "Mudballs are just a way of being sure you hit them, cause they'll be muddy. Usually I just throw rocks, but you don't always know when you hit people," he told her his mood brightening as he talked about rocks. Avie just fell silent again when she continued telling him that maybe his mother hadn't been able to write at all because of where she was, Avie knew this was a very possible answer, he'd thought of something like that, but really, it had been months and he'd heard nothing, "It's been," he stopped visibly counting how long it had been, "Seven months since I last heard from her, she couldn't send anything in all those months, this was the last letter I got when she left," he un-scrunched his hand, and after looking at both letters and figuring out which was from his mother which he then handed to Esme. The letter was addressed to Avery, his mother being the only one to call him that, it was Avie's actual name he just preferred Avie and dated the 30th April 2038, the letter gave nothing away about where she'd gone, just that she was taking a journey and she was both proud of him and loved him.

"I've been trying to stay positive, I try really hard. Something just feels wrong, and I need to hear from her," Avie sniffled loudly as his lip trembled slightly, "I need her, I need to know she's okay" the boy sniffed, his eyes downcast, looking at the owl between them. He wanted to not worry, he wanted to go have fun and just enjoy everything that this school had. Avie rubbed his eyes slightly, taking in as deep breaths as he could manage, "I just want to go back to throwing mudballs at people and being happy. I don't like these feelings,"
​

 

[Esme Lancaster]

Esme raised her eyebrows in thought as she considered Avie's comment on adults and how boring they could be. Her own family had had long political discussions during the last Minister of Magic elections, and none of it had interested her. Did it matter who was in charge? None of it affected her for the current time. She had to agree to an extent, being an adult wasn't all that fun or exciting and she wasn't too thrilled to become one any time soon. Then again, she didn't want to be stuck as a student forever either. She longed to leave the school and all of its students and teachers behind to start her own life. Yet she still wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do with her life to begin with. It seemed so far away, that independence, having her own house and career, not having to rely on anybody else. But she knew it would come sooner than she expected. "I can't imagine sitting around talking about the weather, or economy. How dull. Listening to my parents debate politics is boring itself, participating would be worse. I don't think all adults are like that, though. Some can be fun. My cousins a transfiguration professor and he's always running around the grounds as a dog or something and enjoying himself. I heard he wanted to pull a prank in Professor Styx's office, but I think he leaves his door locked now. Would have been amusing to see. I think you'd kind of be like that when you grow up, still having fun. Or I hope so. I can't see you discussing dreary adult things." She said with a smile, trying to picture Avie as a grown man. It was difficult to envision. She tilted her head to one side at hearing the name Peter Pan, a little confused. She'd grown up listening to tales from Beedle the Bard. Stories like the Warlocks Hairy Heart, or the Fountain of Fair fortune. None were really similar to this Peter Pan character, but she didn't question it. "I think I'd like to be seventeen forever. That way I'm considered an adult and I can't be told what to do by them, but I'd still be young. It's a nice age to be. I'd be able to apparate and use magic outside of school." Using magic without being traced was something Esme was dying to be able to do. She had the capability to do so many mundane tasks out in the world, but was restricted from doing so because of the Ministrys laws. It was infuriating.

Even though Esme wasn't used to cheering people up, she was glad to see that she'd at least made Avie smile with her humor attempt. She herself smiled at his reply, giving a light shrug of the shoulder her hair wasn't covered by. "I suppose I could have a little more fun. It's been a while." The witch wasn't averse to letting him show her how to have fun, or at least what he considered fun. Though their hobbies and interests may have been somewhat different, she wasn't entirely opposed to finding or throwing rocks, or whatever else it was he did. It might have made a nice change. She considered his next comment, about mud. "That makes sense. Unless of course, the person hit by the rock yelled in pain, or started bleeding. Then you'd know. But mud does leave a lasting impression. You could always roll a rock up in mud too." It'd be painful and messy for the victim. It was a good combination.

Frowning, Esme watched her friends mood visibly dim once their conversation had moved from rocks to his mother. She listened, trying to hide her surprise when he informed her that his mother had sent her last letter seven months ago. That was a long time to go without hearing anything. Her theory that perhaps the woman didn't have access to writing utensils diminished somewhat, for that was quite a while to go without being able to write. She, slowly and gently, took the piece of paper Avie handed to her. Turning the sheet in her lap, she read over the handwritten words. Avery. Who was- oh. Was that Avie's full name? In the same way that Thomas might be shortened to Tom, or Jakobe to Jake. The more you know. The letter's contents really didn't give a lot away, no clue as to where she could have gone, or why. At the very least, it showed she cared. "She...she's proud of you though, that counts for something right? At least you know she loves you." It was something Esme couldn't be certain about regarding her own mother. Reading those words, how much another parent could care for their child, it was almost painful to look over. "So I'm sure she wouldn't just abandon you. There has to be a really good explanation. I-" The Slytherin really didn't know what to say. What could she say to someone who's mother had practically disappeared for seven months? As a Divination student, the thought of trying to use tarot cards to predict Avie's future with his mother crossed her mind, but she wasn't even sure if her own predictions were accurate yet. So far, nothing had really bore fruit. It was a dumb idea. Instead she waited for him to finish rubbing his eyes and reached out around the owl to take his hands, pressing the letter she held carefully back into one of them. She resisted the urge to simply pick up the bird and bowl it across the room for being in the way, as that might only upset him further. It was difficult enough having to watch him as it was. "I know it must be hard. All these emotions - I wish there were a way to just take them out, not have to deal with being upset, or hurt, or angry. But we can always change them. We could throw mudballs at people today if you'd like. Maybe...make a mud cake and convince a first year to eat a slice. Pretend its chocolate, or something. " She suggested, surprised to actually be enjoying the idea of watching a kid eat a slice of dirt. She wasn't the type to generally get her hands too dirty, but it could be worth it for the look on their face. "Anything to take your mind off of it, if only for a while. I'm sure things will turn out fine. Whether she's out traveling the world, or hiking mountains, or mail is just getting lost, there's not much we can do. Might as well try and enjoy every moment while you wait for it to sort itself out." Her voice was hopeful, even if her heart wasn't. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe something really bad did happen to his mother. But she was a witch, or she assumed so for Lucien to deem Avie worthy enough to hang out with. Surely she could handle anything.
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[Avie Mitchell]

Avie nodded avidly along with her, he didn't know any fun adults, even if this girl's cousin was a fun adult, he was still a professor and he had stuff, adult-type stuff that Avie had no interest in ever doing. He couldn't understand how any adult could really be fun with all the things they had to do. He took it upon himself in that moment to really find out if this professor who taught transfiguration was as fun as she was saying. He knew they didn't have transfiguration until the next term, but he knew he'd be ready for it when it finally rolled around. He assumed that the professor wouldn't be that fun, and the transfiguration classes would be like all the others they'd ever had. He didn't think any of the professor's were "fun", they were just professors they had a job to do, and surely that stopped them being fun. In the same way that his aunt had always said that having fun while learning were two things that should never mix, hence why she'd never had fun when he'd been homeschooled. He just listened along with what Esme was saying, that she wanted to stay seventeen forever, Avie didn't so much as want to stay one age, but more that he just never wanted to stop having fun, which was why this entire situation with his mother was even worse for him. He couldn't get over it, and until he did he wouldn't be able to have fun. Avie just nodded listening to what she was saying, but disagreeing with the idea of staying one age, "I just want to never stop having fun, I don't want to have to do any adulty stuff," he didn't even want to be considered an adult that would automatically make him dull. Although as she suggested the combination of rocks and mud, he paused, very clearly thinking about it, the combination of the two would probably work wonders really. He'd had to take it to Bothie and Lucien, see what they thought, "I like that," he told her avidly.

However, as the conversation turned he watched Esme do with ease something he could barely manage. He didn't entirely know what the letter from his mother said, but he knew enough and had been told enough to now know to gist of it. He smiled sadly at her when she repeated what he already knew. The letter gave nothing away about where she was, or where she'd gone, when she'd be back. He just grew upset when thinking about it, talking about it. It just wasn't good, and he didn't know what to do, the boy was young and his mind younger really. He didn't understand why she would just leave him like this with no word, he thought the world of her, thought she could fight off anything. He had been so eager for that first day of this year waiting for her letter, but nothing had come, now he was still waiting, so maybe it just wasn't coming. He didn't want to think that his mother had just up and left him, why would she do such a thing to him, but why wouldn't she have written by now. He listened as Esme continued talking pressing the letter back into his hand, talking about emotions, he didn't like feeling these things, he worked so hard to not feel any of them, or well, he mostly just felt the good ones, that filled his mind and body with happiness none of this which made him feel horrible. He didn't like them, and as Esme talked of the mud cakes, Avie found that old fun feeling edging in the corners, masked quite firmly by everything there, but a little light nevertheless. Avie didn't want to sit in this room all day, he wanted to have fun, he wanted to mess around and have fun with everything around him, "Mud cakes?" he ventured slowly, his voice tentative and holding a little bit of excitement, "I want to make mud cakes," he told her, looking up at her, wiping his eyes slightly though the ever familiar and excited seemed to have returned to his face, "I know the perfect mud too, doesn't taste too terrible either," Avie told her, suddenly seeming to remember where the mud was, he jumped to his feet, stuff the letters into his jean pockets, "Don't forget my jumper," he told her, as he essentially ran from the room. Avie knew that the mud cakes would not solve the issue with his mother, but perhaps Esme was right about just distracting himself. About taking his mind off things and thinking about fun stuff, and Avie really loved having fun and if that meant making mud cake he definitely would. He was all about having fun and when his thoughts ventured too far, he knew he needed to work to drag them back.
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Figure we can wrap this up here, either with this post, or with yours.