An Owl about The Incident on Teppenpaw Commons

Li Ài Héng Montoir

February 14, 2020 2:07 AM

An Owl about The Incident by Li Ài Héng Montoir

Ài Héng’s quill moved hesitantly across the paper. She had composed it in her own head several times over, settling on the sentiments that she wished to express, and had even rehearsed it once or twice in English. That did not make it easy to write now.

Still, she recognised the necessity of contacting Dorian’s school. She was not keen to talk about The Incident. Her instinct said to hold it close, bury it as deep as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was tell people. She wanted, more than anything, to protect her child from unkind thoughts. However disappointed she was in him, he was still her son. But the fact remained, something had to be said. School could not just resume without a conversation of some kind. She had settled for the briefest version possible in her letter. It still pained her to think about what had unfolded over the holidays, and even if she would have to speak it, that seemed more manageable than the fixed and permanent truth of writing it down.

She posted it off the evening before term to ensure it would get there in time for the first day of school. Thus, when Professor Xavier entered his office that morning, he would find a small, slender owl perched on his window sill, waiting to be let in and deliver him the following note.

Dear Professor Xavier,

I hope you are well. I am sorry to begin your term with bad news, but there has been a serious incident at our home during the holidays. I would prefer to discuss this with you face to face, and ask that you Floo me when you are available.

I will be available from 7.30am in your timezone, though I understand that this may be too early for you to be working. I am available all day, but would prefer that you call me before the wagons are due to arrive.

With sincere thanks,
Li Ài Héng Montoir, mother to Dorian.

13 Li Ài Héng Montoir An Owl about The Incident 0 Li Ài Héng Montoir 1 5

Nathan Xavier

February 14, 2020 7:25 AM

Is Dorian hurt? by Nathan Xavier

Nathan entered his office still wearing his bathrobe over his flannel pajamas. He’d had a handful of Teppenpaws stay over the break this year, but midterm break was very informal and it wasn’t over quite yet, so he felt no compelling reason to get dressed before eight o’clock. He frowned when he saw the waiting owl, and hurried to let it, hoping it was just a belated Christmas card, and not anything more dire.

It was distressingly early in the day for just a routine card that was already a week late though.

He absently fed the owl a treat for its early morning flight, then turned his attention to the attached letter. The details were sparse. That was always ominous.

He checked his clock. Seven thirty six. Best get this over with; find out what was going on. He cast a tidying charm on his hair. He’d already shaved so that was fine. He wasn’t dressed professionally at all, but it would mostly just be his head visible. He took off his fuzzy robe and hoped his pajama top’s collar looked enough like a normal shirt collar to be presentable. It was plain navy blue, it should be fine.

He let the owl out again then took the letter with him back into his quarters and headed for his private fireplace. He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the already burning flames and watched them flash green. He called out his destination and stuck his head in.

He hated the floo. Floo calls were even worse than using it to travel. He wished wizards would just catch on to telephones. Old fashioned rotary ones wouldn’t be too hard for the wizarding world to swallow, would they? They would be so much easier on the stomach.

Once the swirling ceased, Nathan waited a moment to let his nausea settle before opening his eyes to a nicely appointed parlor where an Asian woman was sitting on a nearby settee. He did not see Dorian.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” he began. “I’m Professor Nathan Xavier. Your note said there was an incident. Is Dorian hurt?” there was genuine worry and concern in his voice. Isis had one of her students get in a car accident over break a few years ago. Nathan did not know off hand if Dorian had broken the seventeen year mark, but he was right around the right age for learning apparition. Splinching was a very real concern for beginners.

1 Nathan Xavier Is Dorian hurt? 28 0 5

Li Ài Héng Montoir

February 14, 2020 10:20 PM

That's not quite it by Li Ài Héng Montoir

Ài Héng moved around the room, straightening the already straight vase on the table. It was still early. It was likely to be hours before the professor called her. She should probably do something to occupy herself, though she had no idea what could possibly absorb her attention right now. She realised she was just pacing pointlessly around the room, hands looking for something to adjust, and decided instead to sit down. To try sitting calmly and compose herself.

She returned to the settee, clasping a pillow against her chest in an attempt to either occupy or comfort herself. She realised, after a moment of sitting, tense with a rigid back, that she was twitching her foot. She could not sit still, and the Professor was unlikely to call so soon, maybe she would get back up-

She jumped as there was a rush of green in the fireplace, and a faintly familiar head appeared. Somewhere between the concert, and the photos in Dorian’s yearbooks, she had seen this man before.

“Thank you for calling so soon,” she replied, dropping the cushion to the floor and kneeling down so as to be able to talk more closely with him. He did not prolong the small talk though, jumping straight to the matter at hand, although doing so with a question she found impossible to answer. Both a nod or shake of the head seemed to belie the truth of the matter – a shake pushing off the worry for relief, when that wasn’t appropriate, but a nod… It was not exactly the case either that Dorian was hurt. She pressed her lips together instead, apparently searching the ceiling either for a way to answer or the will to hold back the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

“Dorian… Dorian made some choices that were not good ones,” she stated, not particularly wanting to elaborate on that point. It was not, after all, the reason she was talking with his Professor. “His brother found out about this and decided that it… it was his responsibility to correct Dorian. Or he lost his temper over it. He attacked Dorian,” she said, and her tone shifted from neutral, casual reporter, betraying every drop of stung outrage she felt over her son’s behaviour.

“They’ve never got on but this!” she shook her head, “His own brother- he shouldn’t have-” she was forced to stop as a sob choked her words and she brushed at her eyes with a small handkerchief.

“We have made it abundantly clear to Matthieu that this was unfor-” she cut herself off. Because that was one of the horrible things she was still wrestling with, deep inside her chest. She had to forgive him. He was still her son. It was still her job as a mother to love him, whatever he’d done, however appalled she was by his actions. “Unacceptable,” she stated. “His… his temper. It can’t continue like this. “He’s always been a rough boy, but I thought it was confined to the Quidditch Pitch. I had no idea it had carried over to everyday life,” she continued, tears streaking her cheeks. Her voice carried only grief; it was not an excuse that she had been unaware, only another failing, another thing to be hurt by.

And maybe it wasn’t even relevant, what she thought about Matthieu. What they were doing to deal with him. He had asked about Dorian.

“Dorian’s…” she searched the ceiling again, not wanting to prolong anyone’s agony – her own or his – but still struggling for the words. “We healed his injuries. But obviously he’s…. he’s…” she looked for a word beyond ‘upset’ which seemed far too petty and small to convey the last two days. She gave up trying to find it, assuming that Professor Xavier could imagine for himself. Since the incident, Dorian had either been red-eyed or just… hollow. Barely speaking to any of them. Except for the point at which one particular subject had been raised. “I wanted to keep him at home. Until I knew he was alright. But he insisted – he said it would be easier if he could…. Could get back to normal,” she explained. And it had pulled at her heart, not being the thing Dorian needed right now. Having to let him go, back into the arms of other people. Especially when so much was still wrong. But she had never been able to deny him what he wanted. “He is coming back. I just… thought you should know. And please, you… I know you always take care of him. But… even more this time? And call me? If there is anything – even a small thing? I want to know if he is okay.”

13 Li Ài Héng Montoir That's not quite it 0 Li Ài Héng Montoir 0 5

Nathan Xavier

February 18, 2020 9:29 AM

I see by Nathan Xavier

Nathan was not sure how much he should try to read into Dorian making choices that were not good ones. There were any number of ways that could be interpreted from the relatively benign to the very serious. Nathaniel, in Nathan’s opinion, had not made good choices when he opted to send Howlers at his mother. Dora, when she emptied her cereal bowl onto the floor and then threw herself in the milky soggy puddle because she ‘wanted to go swimming’, had not made good choices, also in Nathan’s opinion but not hers. Nathan, in removing her from said puddle and dropping her into the bathtub had not made good choices according to the two year old, in spite of his clear reasoning that the bathtub was more like swimming than a puddle in the kitchen, but Dora was not one for logic yet, and viewed the entire incident as paternal betrayal of the rankest order. There was no way to know which severity level was at play here.

Dorian’s choices seemed to be the lesser matter though. His brother seemed to have made worse choices in retaliation, choices of a violent nature, and Nathan’s eyes widened in alarm as that became clear. He was glad to hear the injuries had been competently addressed, but dismayed to hear they had happened at all. His mother was understandably distraught, and he waited for her to finish without interruption, if not entirely coherently.

Nathan nodded in promise. “I’ll look after him,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “And I’ll let you know if he’s having any trouble readjusting here.” Within the bounds of confidentiality, of course. He would need to talk to Dorian when he returned, make sure they both understood what Nathan was and was not required to report and to whom. His responsibility was, first and foremost, toward his student’s safety and well-being.

“Is, is there anything else I should know to best look after your son while he’s here?” he asked carefully, not sure himself if he was asking after Dorian’s choices or the subtle clue that Nathan didn’t think he’d imagined that this was perhaps not the first time his brother had been violent outside of Quidditch.

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Li Ài Héng Montoir

February 19, 2020 2:32 AM

Quite by Li Ài Héng Montoir

The professor did not give much away in his reaction. He looked somewhat shocked, but then why wouldn’t he? What he was hearing was shocking. He was quiet, calm and professional in his response, and she had no idea whether he thought she was a terrible parent, other than the fact that it seemed self-evident that most people would conclude such a thing. She had not only raised a monster but somehow failed to realise it. And that was only one part of it…

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, when he promised to look after Dorian, and to keep in touch with her. She pondered his question of whether there was anything else she wanted him know.

She wanted him to know that she loved her children, and that she really had tried. She wanted him to know that, in China, they’d never have been sent away like this, and that she blamed the system. She wanted him to know that Dorian was special and precious. She didn’t want him to know that Matthieu had a temper or that Dorian was… different. And she had already had to confess to one of those things.

Her hand moved to fiddle with the pendant she was wearing – which she always wore – a little gold jasmine flower, next to which hung three pearls. Her fingers twisted the middle one anxiously.

“I think that this matter should remain somewhat private. I understand that you may need to communicate to the rest of Dorian’s teachers that he may not be himself, and to assure them that the situation is being monitored – and to let you know if they have concerns. But Dorian is a very private person, and I don’t think he needs or wants the details reported to everyone.”

13 Li Ài Héng Montoir Quite 0 Li Ài Héng Montoir 0 5