4 Jul, '95 — In someone's yard just off High Street

Charley lived for the rooftops. They were her favorite places to sit, soaking in the sights and breezes that drifted through Hogsmeade. They were faster than walking, too, with no people up here to get in her way. And the thrill of leaping between them, ignoring the pointless gawkings and shouts that might follow from below. The urchin could get almost anywhere in Hogsmeade in half the time by the roofs alone.

And the best part about all that was that she never fell.

The urchin counted on her steady footing, just as sure under her as the sounds of owls around the post office. Her eyes could judge the space between buildings just as well as any bird sighting a windowsill to land on. She might stumble once or twice, but a skinned knee and a tear in her trousers were small prices to pay for the freedom she found on the roofs of Hogsmeade.

The best part about it was that she never fell.

Never, not once. She, who had chased after hoodlums from Hogwarts from above, tricking them into thinking a ghost was after them. She, who had soared on magical wings. She never fell, not even if Jimmy Fletcher himself were to appear with a wand and that awful look on his face.

Charley couldn't fathom, then, why she suddenly found herself on the ground instead of with shingles underfoot. Her eyes could make out the clear line to the roof, looking rather shabby now with boards missing from its peak...which might have been the same boards that were strewn around her now. The glaring sun bore down on her in the way it never did up there, down on her capless head and body that felt too stiff to move.

It all had to be a dream, because the urchin never, ever fell.

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Acacia Darlington

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Acacia was headed away from High Street, done from a day of shopping. It was still an adjustment that she didn't have as tight of a budget as she was once used to. Still, Acacia didn't like to spend too much in one go. Her wardrobe was primarily picked out by her sister-in-law during her first year of marriage, and since then she has been getting advice from her sister-in-law and Darling Whitledge every now and again when a season comes around. She would need to head out again, now that her body was getting back to what it was since her pregnancy. But this was not that trip.

She had only been on the outskirts of High Street when she heard a crash. It was sudden, loud, and it didn't sound intentional. Acacia glanced around and could see a small dust cloud nearby. She glanced briefly at her lady's maid, motioning for the young lady to follow her before making her way towards the noise. The young lady protested, worried about thieves, but Acacia elected to ignore the chatter.

Her instincts were still sharp despite the gap between this day and the day she was asked to leave the hospital due to her pregnancy. She made her way over to the young girl, sprawled on the ground. This girl, who certainly had at least a broken arm. Possibly a broken rib, if not more. She seemed conscious and alert, which was good. "Young lady? I'm a healer, and I'm going to need you to stay still for me, alright?" Her healer voice was there, though there was now a mix of 'mom voice' now.

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A Blessing from Kit

She must have laid there for hours, and actually, some of it was peaceful. Charley didn't often take the chance to look up and watch the day pass, the birds flying and the clouds floating by. Maybe they, too, were stunned about her predicament, slowing down to watch her as they passed overhead. She was pretty stunned herself, an urchin girl like her was better at keeping her feet underneath than all splayed out like she was.

That was a better way to meet people, too, rather than on the ground with a face obstructing the sky.

It was a pretty face, if Charley was honest with herself, and that sort of thing sometimes scared her. Especially as the woman might have been mistaken for a statue. She was carved from porcelain, or near enough, because her skin was a pale tone that even Charley had never been able to keep under a Scottish sun. What shook her the most was that the woman's hair was a bright and fiery color, and it gave the urchin the barest taste of envy for keeping hair that pretty looking so fine.

"I en't much of a lady," Charley returned, almost wrinkling her nose at the suggestion. She couldn't, try as she might, not in the face of the splendor looking her over. If the woman was a butterbeer or a sack of galleons, Charley couldn't have been more gobstruck than she was now. "Not really."

That moment passed quickly, and then as the birds winged away and the clouds floated on, the urchin tried to get herself up. Her arms felt alright, after she freed the one pinned underneath her, but her hip smarted sharply when she tried to move it. Her voice made it clear just how much of a shock that was. She really did like her feet underneath her, and her hips did a thankless job to make that happen.

"Reckon I'll be doin' that, actually, 'cause I en't goin' nowhere right now." Charley said sourly, leaning back to rest against the ground again. She hadn't gotten far at all. Her eyes glanced around, spotting the edge of her cap poking out from underneath some debris nearby. Something that must have given way underneath the urchin as she was leaping to the next roof, and landed just right to keep her cap far enough away to reach. Not until her sore hip was mended that is. "Wasn't s'posed ta be all the way down here, y'know? Musta stepped on a wrong shingle or summat, coulda happened to anyone!"

Excepting her, because she never fell. Not ever since she was a little girl climbing on trees with her brother. Or when little girls pushed her out of trees, and gave her a bruise to last a week. But Charley didn't like to think much of that day, some of those were better forgotten than remembered.

"Gotta be grateful for solid roof under yer boots, I say." Charley kept talking, it felt better than focusing on the sprawling hurt creeping up her side. If she had broken a bone, this mishap was going to be even more embarrassing. Her face succumbed to a wince as she added, "An' for sturdy hips."

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Children weren't much for listening, were they? Acacia had a brief memory flash before her eyes of Chrysanta getting her own childhood injuries and being just as stubborn when told not to do something. Still, Acacia offered a patient smile and remained calm. Losing her patience wasn't going to help matters. Especially after the girl moved only a bit and was right back where she started by the end of it. "Well, in any case, may I know your name so that I may best address you?" Acacia responded while she took out her wand and set about clearing away some of the debris from around the young girl.

Satisfied enough thus far with the area that she had to work with; she paid more attention to the girl in question. Well, the arm wasn't as bad as Acacia's initial findings, though she still wanted to take a look to be sure. Her hip though... she'd want to take a look as that seemed to be a trigger point of pain. With all of the talking, Acacia was cautiously optimistic that the injuries weren't too severe. "Can you please tell me where you are in the most pain? I'm going to need to gently test those areas with a quick spell or two to make sure it's nothing too serious." She didn't want to startle the young girl; would anyone truly want a random person casting spells on them? Part of her training was carefully talking through the process in an easy-to-understand manner.

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A Blessing from Kit

Her side was hurting more with every breath, though it had started to harden into a dull throb instead. The change didn't really help the pain much, particularly as the urchin still needed to breathe. Try as she might, that one tricky part of being human still kept her away from swimming out too far into the lake or staying too long around a smokey fire. It didn't stop her from lying here, though, not able to move much while the woman flicked the broke boards away from them.

"Hey, mind the cap!" Charley said in alarm, pointing to her erstwhile head covering lying too many feet away from her. It had flipped over now, open to dust and splinters that were sent flying with the debris from above. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at the porcelain-carved woman who had appointed herself the urchin's tender, wishing more often that the human part of beauty would come with brains. "I'm Charley, an' that's mine."

Getting restored to her cap would be just a little boon to her day, but one that would make Charley feel much better. Some witches couldn't separate themselves from that wand of theirs, while more than a few women lived by their dresses and calls. For her it was the cap, not just a sturdy piece that completed her urchin outfit and kept the sun off her head, it was just part of who she was around Hogsmeade. And most everybody here knew the urchin by it, too.

She could usually count on that, just like counting on her feet underneath her. Or the hips that kept those in the right place, too. Charley supposed today was just one of those unreliable sorts, and the grimace spreading on her face when she tried to shift only confirmed it. "It's my side, the one I landed on. I'd show ya, but ya might wanna cover yer ears first."

Charley put her hands on the ground like she was going to push herself over, and probably would if no one stopped her. All she did before pushing was pause a little to let the woman get herself all ready. "Hurts like mad, jes a little less than afore. I en't screamin' now but might start up when I twist yer way."

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

One. Two. Three. Don't let out a puff like some overgrown child. Acacia listened patiently and kept mindful of the cap. "I understand. Please keep in mind, however, that your safety takes priority." Merlin only knew how many splinters might snag on the young girl as Acacia tried to do her best to heal her. Still, she motioned for her lady's maid to grab the cap with care after setting their purchases down. Ugh. Hopefully nothing will be taken by the time they were finished.

Acacia glanced briefly to see her lady's maid make busy work of mending the cap while keeping an eye on their things, and Acacia was grateful to not be alone in this. Finishing her task of clearing the debris as best as she could manage, Acacia turned her full attention back on the young lady. "I am Acacia Darlington, if only the circumstances of our acquaintance were better." she greeted politely as she gently started pressing her hands on the young lady's side for any internal injuries. Spells could only do so much, and Acacia wasn't a mediwitch.

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   Charley Goode

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A Blessing from Kit

Truth be told, Charley was a bit disappointed in herself. Rolling off the injured side didn't hurt nearly as bad as she thought it would. After a solid clench of her teeth and blowing out her breathe, the urchin rolled halfway over with nary more than a little whimper. For all her dramatic warnings and theatrical learnings, she thought that could have garnered her a frightened look of sympathy in the eyes of the statuesque woman.

It would have felt better than the subtle shifts in the healer's porcelain face that she got instead.

"Shoulda told the roof 'bout safety or summat," Charley muttered sourly as the woman gave her side a thorough patdown. She could have doubled for a package of meat just then, or a nice juicy melon, showing off her firm spots to convince a crafty shopper to take her home. Once or twice she nearly giggled as fingers pressed at a spot that felt more ticklish than sore, enough to crack a grin on the urchin's face. One that only narrowed a little when the healer pressed her hand into the tender spot on her side. She sucked in a short breath, surprising herself that the pain was tolerable now that the rest of her wasn't sitting on top of it. "Oof, ya found it, right there."

The urchin didn't often find herself so incapacitated, and it felt a bit silly to be lying out here with a statue leaning over her. Acacia, really, when the porcelain woman gave her name. Darlington, too, which meant, "Dontcha got that big manor house way out there, Miss Darlington? Thought yer sort didn't touch stret muck like me."

She might have newer clothes this summer, that fit without holes or hemlines now, but Charley was sure they already looked shabby enough compared to the finery of Acacia's wardrobe. Not to mention the healthy layer of dust the rooftop's debris had gifted to her, giving her a real chance to blend in with the town's ghosts. Street muck still felt right, and the urchin didn't deny it either. She flashed her grin wide, still white between her lips, to show her appreciation anyway. "I en't complainin', mind. Reckon I musta earned up some good karma lately to fall right when you'd be happenin' along."

Talking so much under Acacia's delicate fingers, Charley was almost starting to forget why she'd landed in her path to begin with. The dull throb that occupied her side still made its presence known, but more like some sort waving a sign her way instead of nearly knocking down her door. It was a good sign in her book. "Name's Charley, by the way. I'm nobody 'round these parts, so just Charley'll do."

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

It was a good sign that the girl was able to smile every so often. Still talking. Only a few breath hitches. "Perhaps a kind letter to the home owner. A note of safety concern. I wouldn't mention that it was you that fell, though. Say..." Acacia mused for a moment, "you saw a bird. It didn't fall per say, it flew away, but the damage was done." Acacia didn't want to see the young girl get in trouble for jumping around roof tops. Young children seemed to be doing such things all of the time, she remembered noticing a child or two every now and again when she lived at her father's home. She wasn't going to assume any guilt. And if Acacia was wrong? Well, a lesson learned. She hated assuming the worst of people when everyone seemed to do so with her.

"I am a healer before anything else, I assure you. Besides, I cannot find myself respecting such judgmental nonsense. You deserve care the same as I." Acacia gently released the girl's side. Not nearly as bad as she had first feared. Primarily bruising. Quick fixes. Though Acacia still wanted to look at that arm. She got her wand back out and gently muttered a familiar spell over the girl's side.

With a gentle smile, she was quickly done with that. "There. Now, Miss Charley, let's take a look at that arm."

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   Charley Goode

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A Blessing from Kit

Charley tried not to laugh at the idea of writing a letter of concern to the home's owner. The posh sort sure did like to see themselves as scholars of words, like those alone might be undeniably convincing. When that wasn't enough, though, they had gold. She didn't have much of either, any folk who gave her a first glance hardly lent a second once she opened her mouth, plus all the gold she'd ever earned would look small even in her hands. The urchin might have held back until Acacia mentioned the little birdie, and then she had to giggle at that one.

"Ow, not tryna finish me off, are ya?" she asked, clamping a hand to her side where the woman's had let go. She couldn't hold back the peals of laughter even when they sent new pangs through her side, and not dull ones this time either. Charley sucked in a new breath of air, her face not quite sure whether it wanted to be amused or angry at the well-to-do healer. Her voice sang a little rhythm as she let it out, sounding very much like a chant of, "Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow! " along the way.

"No really, a little birdie?!" The urchin's question was real, or part of it anyway. Her lungs gasped again, pulling up tight as her muscles on the injured side, but when she relaxed them again the next breath was easier. So was talking and moving, though she still wasn't doing as much of the second one yet. "Might be a wee bit more believable for it to be a cat. Or a tiger, yeah that'll do 'er, escaped tiger from the zoo perchin' on Hogsmeade roofs."

She laughed a bit easier this time, feeling more silly than delirious now. It was a relief to fill her lungs with air without any stitch in her side, like she might have had for a day or two after any other fall like that. Not that she ever fell, that is. Acacia was honest enough about being a healer, and it lent her a sort of trust that Charley didn't often have for the richer folk of Hogsmeade.

"En't sure 'bout the deservin' part," the urchin mentioned as she managed to sit up at last. That sure did come a lot easier to her than the last time she'd tried. If not for the healer's reminder, she might have hopped back up and been on her way. Her arm didn't feel all that bad, but Charley offered it out for Acacia to look at all the same. "But I'm thankin' ya anyhow."

Her free hand reached up to the lady's maid for the cap she held, beckoning with her fingers until it came close enough for her to take. Seating the cap one-handed wasn't the easiest, but Charley managed it near enough for comfort. "For the healin' part, leastwise. Dunno yet 'bout the letter notion, might hafta get a bit richer afore someone'll take me that serious."

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Acacia kept at her work as a healer, attempting not to snicker at Charley's exclamation, "No, but please be sure to hold still." A trained steadiness kept in her voice despite her mild amusement. This girl certainly reminded her of a younger version of Chrysanta. Headstrong and spirited. Well, maybe even today's current Chrysanta. Acacia tried not to think about that. Her hand hesitated for a moment when the girl went on about a tiger. Flashes of '87. A flying tiger attack that never happened. Quickly, she brushed the thought aside. "You'd be surprised at how large certain bird species could get, and no need to alarm the town."

Finishing up with the arm, she gave a quick glance around the girl's body for any other signs of injury. Satisfied, she put the wand away. "I could co-sign as witness." She would hate to see a young girl get in trouble over an accident. Children play on rooftops or find less conventional means of travel, and it was clear that an adult wasn't minding her to tell her 'no'. "As your temporary healer, my professional recommendation is to stay off of rooftops from now on. Aside from doing official work, of course." She would not judge if the girl was a chimney sweep, though the lack of soot suggested otherwise. Still, she could have been headed into work and kept herself tidy.

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Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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A Blessing from Kit