Magical Hogwarts

may 2005

On this beautiful day, bathed in the warm glow of the sun, Jaspar found himself in relatively good spirits. His internship at MASMA, the Magical Academy for Scientific and Magical Advancement, had proven fruitful and had now evolved into a full-fledged scholarly pursuit. Today, he embarked on a journey to the shops in Italy for an important assignment. Though the pleasant May warmth enveloped him, Jaspar still tugged anxiously on the sleeves of his long shirt as he strolled down the streets of Chatoeil, until he reached a dead end.

At the end of the street, just before a wall of trees and ivy, stood an old sun-faded tree with a chunk of bark missing. From one of its aged branches dangled a single prism of glass, suspended by tattered rope. As it spun slowly in the soft breeze, the glass emitted a mesmerizing dance of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens. This humble-looking prism was actually a portkey, destined to transport Jaspar to Neroli. While Jaspar wasn't particularly fond of apparition, and no power in this universe or the next would get him on a winged horse ever again, he had grown to prefer portkeys for their reliability and convenience. Generally, they had served him well, but fate had something else in store for him today.

Clutching the pane of glass, Jaspar sensed something unusual immediately. Instead of the familiar cityscape, he found himself surrounded by the outlines of tall trees and lush greenery as his body righted itself. Rather than landing on solid ground, he ended up perched atop a tree and swiftly tumbled through its branches before finally managing to grasp one tightly. He clung to it as if his life depended on it, his hair now a tangled mess of sticks and leaves.

Looking down, the realization of how high up he was hit Jaspar hard, causing him to swallow nervously. Glancing around, he sighed, feeling a hint of trepidation in his voice, "Oh, dear."

@Adèle Appel

When she arrived for her shift in the creature supplies store – Confort de Créaturs (Creature Comforts) – in Calais that morning, Adèle hadn’t anticipated taking a field trip of sorts. Apparently the Knarl pellets they’d ordered weeks ago were still on backorder… but her boss, the owner, had owled their sister shop in Chatoeil and arranged for a few bags to be transferred in the interim. She’d planned to retrieve them herself that afternoon, until something came up with her two young children at home. She’d asked Adèle the favor, and the nineteen-year-old had happily agreed; she liked Anne-Sophie, and was hardly one to turn down a favor (or a chance to spend some time outside) in any case.

Adèle was still not comfortable enough to consider Apparating further than the seventy-or-so kilometers from her family’s home to Calais, a broomstick was too noticeable (she didn’t have one of her own, anyways – she’d borrowed a school broom for Quidditch), and her Non-Magique house wasn’t linked up to the Floo Network… so Portkey, it was. Anne-Sophie had arranged for one in advance, and it would also return her to Calais one hour after departure.

The trip to Chatoeil from Calais was uneventful; however, by the time she arrived at the shop, the manager regretfully told her that a witch (who was also a long-time client) had bought out the remainder of their supply not fifteen minutes previously. But, he said, he’d already owled ahead to the Neroli location – and there were designated touch-activated Portkeys to Neroli (glass prisms, apparently) hanging on an old tree at the edge of town (“‘Take the tree to Neroli’, eh?” he’d chuckled). There was even a Ministère Official there during business hours to regularly replace it and the rest of the Portkeys from Chatoeil to other major wizarding towns.
 
She found the spot easily enough (though the Ministère Official himself looked rather bored and mildly unwell…) and approached the tree. Ensuring her return ticket to Calais (a rolled-up newspaper) was safely tucked into her bag, Adèle reached out to touch the prism and felt the familiar tugging sensation behind her navel as soon as she made contact, spinning faster and faster until—

“Oof!” she exclaimed involuntarily as her back and ribs slammed against something hard, abruptly knocking the wind out of her. Before she had time to process much more than a green-and-brown blur, the strangely-tentative footing she had suddenly gave way. At the falling sensation she instinctively flailed out her arms (though not before what she would later recognize to be a tree branch smacked her in the face), effectively breaking her fall under her armpit as she caught a decently-sized bough beneath it and clung on.

Her breath came in shallow shaky bursts from adrenaline and nerves – but once she’d stopped moving for a few moments, it was enough for her to process her surroundings. How in Morgana’s name had the Portkey dumped her in a tree?! All things considered, Adèle felt quite at-home up a tree – though she was still startled to find herself there at present.

Before she’d even had time to take three deep breaths, the sound of ominously-creaking branches (it definitely seemed like more than just the wind) in the canopy overhead prompted her to automatically look up – and her jaw dropped.

“Jaspar?!” she called out incredulously, twisting a bit to get a better glimpse of her former Year- and Housemate. He looked quite afraid.

“Are you alright? Did a Portkey put you up here, too?” He certainly did not look like he meant to be up here, in any case. It was then that she noticed that she must have dropped hers in her scramble to hang onto anything she could grasp.

She peered down through the branches, trying to scope out an easy route down.
“I think I dropped mine… Do you still have yours? It might take us back to Chatoeil, I think, if we put it on the ground and then both take it at the same time…?” 

Jaspar had never been the athletic sort, so he was having a difficult time hoisting himself up on the branches of the tree. He struggled to hold on, his weak arms already tiring, and his cheeks turning red with the effort. He tried not to kick his legs too much, knowing what he did about gravity and force. He'd rather not fall to his death today. Jaspar looked around, trying to understand which branch was the strongest – and easiest – for him to get to. He gamed it out, doing quick little calculations, instead of doing what would have been the most obvious and easiest thing: using his wand.

He was half through a theory about how much weight and angle a branch could withstand, when he heard a voice from below that scared him into nearly letting go entirely. He scrambled to regain his grip, looking down at an awkward angle between himself and the branch. “Adèle?!” He answered, shouting her name down at her, with a bit of panic evident in his voice. “Yeah, I did!” Jaspar was concerned about finding his friend in the same predicament, as he was relieved it was her. Adèle was far more resourceful and braver than he’d ever claim to be. Jaspar took a deep breath, telling himself, she will get us out of this safely.

“Have mine?” he called back with a puzzled tone until it dawned on him what she was asking. “I think I do,” Jaspar vaguely remembered, tucking the prism into his jacket, in the same large catch-all pocket his wand currently resided in, before he crashed into the tree. “But I can’t reach it without falling!” He took another look down, realizing he could stand on a large branch beneath him, rather than clinging for dear life to the rickety one his arm was wrapped around. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself onto the branch. His palms were covered in little scrapes from the bark, but he was mostly unharmed. Jaspar took a deep breath.

He realized step one was to get out of the tree, and very carefully, Jaspar began making the descent.