Robbie was a special brand of idealist.
It used to be that Robbie looked into the future and could almost completely visualize scenarios some pleasant and idyllic that he would be struck with a romantic mood that could only be stolen from him with the most irritating of news. Thoughts of a perfect retirement, of a peace treaty rendered between factions, of a daughter swearing in as Minister of Magic... These would take his heart in a vice-like grip, and anyone who knew him could see the spring in his step, the dreamy quality in his eyes. And he lived with that thought, almost a prophecy, until he opened the Prophet and saw market crashes, or a run-in with a neighbor turned up news of a death in the community. And the dream would slip away, and he'd watch it go, a little sad to lose it but certainly happy to have met it, and vaguely hopeful for the next.
These days his dreams were less sensational. But all the more unlikely.
Today, the idealistic thought born, almost upon waking, was that the day would transpire without a hitch. It's not morbid or cynical to consider this an unlikely possibility for Robbie, considering that when he awoke and began to get his life in order, he still made coffee for two. It was long past a habit now - it was a chosen lapse in reality, a quiet hope and a dangerous dream that he would return to see the pot empty. But every night, he he poured the stale coffee down the sink, washed the pot, and made no resolutions to be rational the next day. And so it continued.
And if this were not enough to promise that his hopes for a good day were naive, there was the matter of his schedule. He had to go the Ministry for not one, but two purposes. The first was to register yet another magical ability displayed by Jerry the Duck, who had now taken to turning into a gold statue of himself and refusing to reanimate for hours at a time. The Ministry had long ago lost interest in trying to diagnose exactly what had been done to the duck to make him such a collection of quirks, but he was still required to update the roster.
This, of course, put him in the war path of one Marcie Davis. He supposed he had to stop jumping into closets to avoid her and try to endure her icy reception, but the likelihood of him not diving into a closet was also low, if history was any indicator.
And finally, he had to head to his sister's office in the Department of International Wizarding Communications where he was certain to... he was... well, actually, there probably wasn't any danger in that, truth be told. And as he was just there to collect Yuna for lunch, that could prove to be more than pleasant.
Somehow, he made it through his first meeting without Jerry starting any fires or laying any strange eggs. And if that wasn't enough, he learned that Marcie was on a conference in Berlin and he was able to loiter in his favorite department, checking in with new creatures brought in and consulting on a few cases where his healing experience proved helpful. Once he left, he was feeling fully validated in his steadfast belief that luck had finally turned its kind gaze back upon him once more.
As you might remember, Reader, it's always important to set up a great fall. It made the plummet all the more satisfactory.
He had just turned town the hallway towards his sister's office when Jerry, who had been tucked comfortably under his arm, suddenly went rigid. Robbie glanced towards the duck who was rapidly turning his head to and fro. "Jerry?" Robbie asked, coming to a stop as he looked curiously at the duck. This was new. "What's wrong, chap?"
Jerry made a small hissing noise, not unusual... And then he opened his beak wide and-
You know those high frequency noises that, supposedly, old people can't hear? Well, Jerry picked just a pitch just high enough for anyone within a fifty yard radius and under the age of forty to develop an excruciating headache.
"Jerry!"
He had dropped the bird to cover his ears and now risked the assault of noise to whip out his wand. "Silencio!"
The noise got louder.
Robbie scooped the duck up against his body's instincts and closed a hand around his beak, cutting the noise off immediately. The silence that followed was deafening, and his ears rang with the reminder of the noise. But, he supposed, it could have been worse.
And that was when he realized half of the department had come out of their offices to glare at him.
Yes, it could have been worse, he supposed. He just wasn't sure how.
by Robbie Fairfax Wed Feb 22, 2017 6:05 am
