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One day after finals and shortly after lunch, August took a notebook out to the grounds instead of his usual Library spot-- He was becoming too predictable. He picked an empty corner of the fountain and perchered there, unfolding the large envelope Sonora’s bird had dropped off for him that morning. He read the letter within first:



He sighed and nodded. He had known an A in Herbology would not impress his mother at all, and he probably should have complained less about the damned stairs. He tucked the envelope away in his bag but stared at the letter again. Exercise... and a gym membership. That was bloody terrible. He was not going to the gym. He just had to come up with a better method of exercise. And figure out how to talk about a magical school in a castle to his muggle family...Well at least this means I don't have to talk about Flying class. And he’d give Ferdie during the end-of-year feast. He'd miss Ferdie. Hopefully the next year's Editor in Chief would be just as fantastic.

Good. For now, August tucked the letter into the front of the notebook, picked out a self-inking quill and got started writing the story of a murderous ghost.

Peace and time alone, finally. There was only the muted mutter of evening life going on outside the office doors whe---v^v^●August jolted when someone bumped into him, and his quill made a fantastic...squiggle-splotch.

”Ah, Eliza you found me anyways,” August said wryly when he heard the familiar voice and obnoxious nickname of a Gryffindor that couldn’t seem to leave him alone. He didn’t mind Elizabeth Spektor. Minus this ink-spilling, she just had an unhealthy appreciation for snowball fights and nicknames. Ah, but this was more his fault for jumping, and the snowball fight was probably Lane's idea. "Please do watch the screaming, Human eardrums are fragile."

He bristled a bit when she peered at his writing. He could just say it was just Daily Dragon writing, but....well to be honest he didn't see the harm in telling Lizzie. Everyone in the Daily Dragon knew he went to Ferdie for writing advice on more than journalism writing. And Lizzie seemed a trustworthy sort,... As much as you could say to trust a force of nature. Could you trust a hurricane? Worst came to worst she'd laugh at him and blabber about it to the entire of Gryffindor house. "I'm writing a mystery. Not a novel, just a short story. So long as you don't say anything to everyone about it, I don't mind. It's just a first draft though." He shifted the notebook towards her and set his quill down to polish his glasses.

August was a little more chargined that the letter had escaped his notebook while handing the notebook over. He couldn't even blame Lizzie for reading it after it was just lying there for her to read. With a low grumble he folded it back into the original envelope and tucked it securely away as soon as she handed it back. "Rhimjhim's my mum. I guess you could say she's quite formal? 'Professional.'". He paused at her next comment, the slightest smirk playing on his face. Excellent, good point Elizabeth. He was too young for a dumb gym membership.

The smile quickly vanished. Kids being too young for a gym membership was the kind of detail his mother usually would have caught...what was going on here? She wouldn't have actually suggested it if she didn't think it was a plausible course of action...he'd have to ask when he saw her over the summer.

”Camp Spektor?” he murmured vaguely. "I don't suppose admittance to Camp Spektor could come with a written guarantee that its attendees will come out alive and without trauma?"