Hogwarts Reborn: Harry Potter RPG

100 years after the Second Wizarding War, and the Death Eaters are back. Hogwarts, newly rebuilt, has to muster a new courage, for the game has changed. A new story is rising. It's a new Age, a new Life and a new Generation. It's time for a Revolution.
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 Nepenthe (Flashforward: Nora & Gail)

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Sorrow Misery Grace
Sorrow Misery Grace

Posts : 2890
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Join date : 2010-08-21
Location : Aurora's Gardens

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PostSubject: Nepenthe (Flashforward: Nora & Gail)   Nepenthe (Flashforward: Nora & Gail) EmptyTue Sep 06, 2016 8:24 pm

It was in the lingering goldenglow of summer that the forest near their home had started to burn a bonfire red, letting down its sunflame carpet of leaves that cracked and crumbled under their mud-streaked sneakers. They had just turned fourteen in June and already they felt bigger than themselves, like the apple tree in their garden, swollen and bowed under the weight of its fruit. Fourteen, in any case, was far too old to have a babysitter said Nan, and Finbar had agreed wholeheartedly.  They hid the bright paint and the glowing stars and planets behind Nan’s pencil drawings and Fin’s words on the walls and with pictures cut out of magazines because they were starting to look to childish. They snuck out of the window of their room like they had been doing all summer, abandoning the books and the paint and the thick layer of dust that they swore they cleaned off of the highest of shelves but never did. The flowers from the garden, old stuffed animals, the pebbles and crystals and candles that used to weave a web of power around them until suddenly it wasn’t enough and the secrets and the whispers they were trying to capture in notebooks became as far as the sun and the stars in the sky.

They had found the place just at the end of a school year, two, maybe three summers past; blurs of childish laughter like the glittering fish under the fine surface of a lake, chasing each other in a game of shadow tag and with so little to worry their sun-shaped minds.  Nan had noticed it first, calling out to Finbar with the full force of his child voice that no, it’s not a trick and you really should come see this! Until Finbar, though reluctantly, stepped out of the shadow to look at what it was that was so important.

The staircase did not belong to anything, so far as they could see and they looked. The steps simply started from the earth, the stone curling in on itself and then ending abruptly some fifteen feet from the ground. They sat under its arch, breathing in the traces of old magic in the stone and took turns jumping from the steps, higher and higher to prove to each other that they are not afraid, and scraped their hands and knees and came back home with mud and sunburn on their faces, with branches stuck in their hair, but they would not tell anyone about the place they found.

Since then they had gone back so many times that the thought of it was barely a whisper in their minds before they were able to shadow cross and settle into their nest under one of the arches. Over the crinkly forest floor they spread out an old patchwork quilt, once two separate pieces, now worn at the edges and sewn clumsily down the middle with whatever string they could find at the time; the brilliant left side that Nan favoured, a chaotic symphony of colour since faded, and the duller right side of browns and greens, accented with a cacophony of golden strands twisted into ill-woven flowers and leaves. Fin and Nan thought it was beautiful. It was easily their most prized possession. They curled up upon it like the children they once were, still achingly were even now, holding hands and wondering what death was like and if it was as painful for a tree when its leaves died as it was for them to feel it. Finbar hid his face with his free hand, smudging the lenses of his glasses and said, “Mhamó isn’t getting any better, is she?”

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