FOREWORD
Welcome to the first book of my Hogwarts Mystery series with Jessamyn McPhee!
Considering how long it's taken me to do my Voldemort's daughter series one chapter at a time, I thought I'd try to wait it out with Jessamyn and only start posting when I finished the entire first book.. like a normal author.
But then, with 06/22/2022 being Melody Riddle's ten year anniversary since I first posted it on , I felt the urge to actually get Jessamyn's first book posted along with Melody's sixth. (I've had Jessamyn's first chapter ready for over half a year already!)
In the time since I first started writing fanfiction and Melody Riddle came into being ten years ago today, my writing has drastically improved by milestones. There will be a big difference in descriptions and chapter length between Jessamyn's first book and Melody's, which only indicates the amount of change my writing has gone through.
On to more important matters…
Jessamyn's first ever introduction was in Melody's fifth book (and she has more appearances coming in the sixth), which is nice and all, but it reveals where she is in her life already — which I say as just a warning for anyone who doesn't want that kind of spoiler yet, and for those who don't like reading Voldemort's daughter fanfics anyway (because I do understand that to some this is, most times, a big no-no).
Another warning is the three additional characters added to Jessamyn's story that are NOT in the Hogwarts Mystery game. Because it's all headcanon anyway, it's important for me to add them, which I can also understand may not be what anyone else wants to see or be confused by in a Hogwarts Mystery fanfiction.
That being said, JC DOES do a LOT of side quests for the main character — a multitude of which one cannot possibly do ALL of on top of Cursed Vaults — so I do mean for a few of these additional characters to take her place in certain ones… though they will more than likely just be mentioned in passing as this series is solely from Jessamyn's perspective.
The three characters are as follows:
Ash Z — belonging to Acheron5
Cassandra Santacruz — belonging to CamilleHintonSavigne
And last, but definitely not least, Seraphina Selwyn — belonging to LokisPuppet
I hope you enjoy what I have in store, and as always… "Mischief Managed."
A walk down memory lane,
revealing my origins as the younger
sister of the infamous Jacob McPhee,
Curse-Breaker extraordinaire.
She is so tiny.
That was all nine-year old Jacob McPhee could think as he held his newborn sister gently in his arms. Rather than looking adorable like both his parents claimed, she looked more like an overgrown, pink, shriveled-up raisin to him. That didn't stop him, however, from feeling strong emotions while looking over her frail body.
The ordeal he and his parents had gone through to get to St. Mungo's Hospital to deliver her was one he'd not soon forget. His mum had just about broken down from pain in front of all of his friends, and his dad dictated everything he'd needed to help do for her before they set off.
Once they arrived at the hospital, Jacob was left in the care of the daycare nurses while his dad got back in his old doctor's uniform to help deliver the baby.
His mum's dream was to be an accomplished alchemist as well as a mother. Upon Jacob's birth, his father quit his job at St. Mungo's to be the stay-at-home parent — all so his wife could follow her lifelong dream.
Jacob constantly overheard other parents discussing their situation. Saying how odd it was that his father was being the full-time parent. Jacob rather liked that his family was decidedly different from the rest.
What he didn't like was feeling helpless.
Happy birthday to me, Jacob had thought wryly to himself. He wrung his hands through his sandy blonde hair as he sat in the daycare center, impatiently looking up at the clock on the wall every thirty or so seconds.
In the wizarding world, certain clocks didn't even tell time, and the one in the daycare was just as unique. It showed the individual faces of all the parents that were in the hospital for one reason or another. The possible places for the face-filled hands ranged from 'working,' to 'being cared for,' 'ready for visitors,' 'ready to leave,' 'in emergency care,' and even to 'dangerously busy' or 'on break.'
His mum spent most of the time under 'being cared for,' her tanned complexion paired with dark brown hair. His dad, sporting the same sandy blonde hair as his son, was set on 'working…' making Jacob wonder thoughtfully to himself how it felt for his dad to be back on the clock, even if it was just for the sake of his wife.
He found himself hating the general feelings he was having on being in the hospital walls. Sensations of despair and anxiety surrounded him, both from the air around him and inside his very soul.
Jacob barely registered another kid coming up next to him to point out that their mummy was in the 'working' section, and had been doing so for just about the whole day. Their attempt to comfort him by saying that, if he just busied himself with the activities the nurses set out, the time would pass by quicker than if he continued staring at the clock, none of it motivated him to move from his position.
For about ten minutes, he felt as though his heart was about to jump out of his mouth as his mum's face moved to 'in emergency care' and his dad to 'dangerously busy.' He couldn't fathom what was going on for them to go to such extreme spots on the clock. Did something go wrong? Was mum still okay? Was the baby going to be okay? Why couldn't he be clued in on what was going on instead of being left to agonize over the situation?
The nurses took pity on him. One gave him a cool glass of pumpkin juice while the other went to go check on his mum's progress. When she returned, she explained that the baby had been giving them a rough time, but they were working with it as best they could with guaranteeing the survival of mum and baby alike.
Shortly after, he was beyond relieved to find his mum's clock-face moving to 'ready for visitors' and his dad 'on break.' It was another excruciatingly long ten minute wait before his dad's actual face popped up inside the nursery, switching from tired to surprised as his son began to babble nonsense at him about how long he'd been waiting and asking what happened.
The excuse for his long wait — as was described to the boy during the walk to mum's hospital room — was that the baby was actively difficult about being born. His mum had gone through an unbelievable amount of pain trying to push the baby out, to the point that the head would crown… only to sink back inside moments later as if trying to avoid venturing out into the unknown world.
Jacob proudly declared that he should've been there for the delivery. He would've been able to coax the baby out sooner, because being the older sibling made him the automatic go-to for feeling safe.
His dad laughed genuinely as he told him that that was a very insightful deduction, and he would be sure to remember that if another baby was ever on the way.
When they finally reached the room and walked inside, Jacob did a double take as he eyed the sight of his mother… brown eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, and hair wildly unkempt compared to the luscious and recently brushed view Jacob had had of it before they'd left him in the daycare.
Wishing he hadn't seen his mother in such a state, his eyes wandered… eventually landing on the bundle of blankets she held against her chest. When she noticed his gaze, she carefully shifted her hold on it so she could hold it out to him.
"Meet your baby sister, Jacob."
Jacob tried not to let it show, but he was immediately disappointed. A sister? I've been praying for a little brother. He tentatively reached forward, lightly taking the newborn from his mum's hold, thus bringing him to his thought: She is so tiny.
Upon glancing at her features, a desperate feeling of needing to protect her overwhelmed his senses, leaving him in somewhat of a daze. What did it matter that she was a girl? She was his younger sibling all the same, and being a girl never stopped his mum from showing him just how amazing she was. With his help, she could grow up to be just as amazing. And, for a bright side, she couldn't possibly want to steal any of his toys from him — girls just liked different things.
It was decided in Jacob's mind that he would be the best brother he could possibly be. He would teach her everything he knew, and then some… he would protect her… he would be there for her if no one else was…. His little pipsqueak.
He brought his gaze up to meet his parents'. "Can we call her Pip?"
His dad barely held in a snort as he replied, "Sorry, kiddo. Your mum and I already named her Jessamyn."
"Jessamyn?" Jacob's nose crinkled in distaste. It was the name of his mum's late sister — his aunt that he'd enjoyed visiting some years back — but even to her very own face, he'd always been honest about disliking her name. And, for a baby, it seemed far too complicated.
His mum's eyes became downcast, "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing!" his dad interjected quickly, shooting his son a pointed glance. "Jacob didn't mean that… right?"
"Right…" Jacob replied with an uncertain nod, thinking to himself that his mum wouldn't believe his dad even a little. He was pleasantly — and yet also disturbingly — surprised by the calm smile softening her features, as if his nod of assent had absolutely appeased her. He couldn't wait for her to go back to normal. Delivering a whole baby obviously affected the brain too much.
"Here's a proposal," his dad continued, kneeling down next to Jacob with a small smile. "Her name is Jessamyn, that's final… but Pip can be her nickname for you to call as much as you like. How does that sound?"
It would have to do. He nodded in agreement as he looked back down at her. Pip. "Alright, Pip," he said, as if the twenty minute old baby could understand him. "I'm going to be the best big brother ever. I'll always be here for you… I promise…"
Jacob placed his pointer finger within Jessamyn's tiny hand, her grip nothing to snuff at just yet as she looked tiredly up at him. His face was the last thing she looked at as her eyelids fluttered closed, always knowing that face to be one that comforted her the most.
Jacob…?
Jacob…!
You said you would always be here…
You promised me!
"Get up, mate!" a voice echoed outside my bedroom door. "My mom cooked breakfast! Hurry up before I eat it all!"
I groaned into my pillow, savoring the comfortable feel of the soft fabric against my face for another moment before finally turning over on my back to stare at the dark blue ceiling. It must still be early, I figured, looking over at the black drapes I had covering my windows, a small amount of sunlight filtering in through the bottoms and sides of them.
What is with that dream though?
I'd been having the same dream for months now. The day I was born. It was the first time I'd actually reached the end of it, as someone was always interrupting my sleep for nary a reason other than for me to just be awake. Such a waste, really.
I wonder if that was how it really happened…? I never ventured to ask my parents if the day I was born actually transpired that way, as it had become taboo to even mention… well, his name.
My older brother, Jacob, has been missing in action for three years now.
It all started after he went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our family on both sides were a long line of witches and wizards, our dad's side of which had all attended the same school. Jacob caught wind of a legend of something called the Cursed Vaults, which was said to reside in multiple secret areas around the school. He came home each summer, regaling his tales of bravery and ambition to me, but it would always be while mum and dad claimed he was grounded for breaking all kinds of school rules during his self-proclaimed quest.
It had become a bit of a norm for me to see this, at least until the middle of his sixth year when the school's Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was somehow left no choice but to expel him. He came home in a rough state, eyes sunken in from defeat and guilt. I was never told exactly what had happened, but I knew it had to be because of the Cursed Vaults.
Jacob was home for three days before vanishing one night while we slept. I vaguely recall being shaken awake that very night, and his voice telling me how sorry he was. I beat myself up about not getting up to stop him for weeks afterwards, with mum and dad reassuring me that it wasn't my fault.
It was headline news in the wizarding world newspaper, known as the Daily Prophet, ever since. I don't know how they always kept the story coming with different aspects to look at, but they managed. All because Rita Skeeter headed the column with as many made-up factoids as she could apparently think of.
The most recent one, I was still able to recall a section from the forefront of my mind:
It's been three years since the scandal of Hogwarts' fabled
Cursed Vaults, and the weekly updates never lose flavor,
writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.
Starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
this year is none other than the younger sister to
the infamous Jacob McPhee, who brought utter
shame to his family name in his deluded quest
to uncover the legend of Hogwarts' Cursed Vaults.
We couldn't get a statement from her, however, but
we can always speculate that her first year is not going
to be welcomed with open arms. How does Jacob's sibling
feel about it? We may never know.
What we can only guess is the possible line of
delinquency continuing through her. Will she be as mad as
her older brother, or will she surprise the masses?
'Younger sister,' I thought with a barely repressed snarl, 'Jacob's sibling.' As if they could never think of me as my own entity — as Jessamyn McPhee — over seeing me as the younger sister of Jacob McPhee. I loved my brother to a fault, at least according to my parents, but where was my sense of individuality if no one let me prove myself before spouting out all sorts of ridiculous theories?
I wished I could have been allowed to give Skeeter my statement — I would have loved to chew her words up and spit them out — but mum and dad forbade it. They had dealt with her on too many occasions not to realize that she twisted their words in the worst way. Once, they said they wished Jacob would come back home, and she turned it around to say that they hated him for leaving us behind… mum in particular agonized for days over if Jacob had read and believed the article, only calming down when dad promised that their son was smarter than that. So maybe it was for the best that I not give the woman any comment.
As for the dodgy woman's words about me starting Hogwarts soon, well I didn't doubt that I wouldn't get a warm welcome. I had just gotten my acceptance letter that very week, school was going to start in a month's time on September first, and though I was so excited to go to the greatest wizarding school in the world… I couldn't stop the feeling of impending doom each day brought as time passed.
For so long, especially when Jacob was going to Hogwarts, I couldn't wait to go. Him getting expelled and disappearing from our lives… plus the entire so-called 'legend of the Cursed Vaults'… completely derailed the dream of a lifetime. Going now meant I had to put in a lot of self-reliance to survive the whole seven years. It was terrifying… but I was determined to show that I was more than just 'Jacob's sibling.'
But I also missed him.
A face then obscured my view of my ceiling, breaking me out of my train of thoughts. "Jessie." Standing over me — with ebony skin and short brown, curly locks of hair on his head — was none other than the one that had been interrupting my recurring dream over the past month. Ash. "Did you hear me? Breakfast is ready."
"Don't call me 'Jessie,'" I sighed, sitting up as he leaned back accordingly.
Ash and his mum moved in two months ago. Both of our mums had been best friends since they were eleven, when they attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the United States where they grew up. They kept in touch after graduation, even when mum moved across the world to London, England to become the accomplished alchemist she was now. Meanwhile, Ash's mum, Martha, had continued her own studies in ancient languages in an office at the American Ministry where she met Ash's dad. And the rest is history.
His dad stayed behind in America with the rest of Ash's siblings, continuing him and his wife's studies into the language of parcel-whatever-the-name-was. She'd continued her own studying, of course, but otherwise she helped out around the house so my parents didn't strain themselves too much.
Since Jacob's disappearance, mum threw herself into her work more than ever before. I barely saw her in the mornings before she'd run off to work with the famous alchemist, Nicholas Flamel. Then she wouldn't return home until late. Sometimes I'd still be up alongside dad just to greet her, hear about how amazing Flamel is, and just fall asleep in dad's lap as mum went on and on.
Dad… was on and off. Most days he was at home taking care of everything as usual… but, other days, he would practically disappear for a whole twelve hours. I was declared old enough and responsible enough to stay at home alone, but eventually mum was worried about the lengths of time he wasn't there. It was part of why Martha and Ash came to live with us, so she could take care of everything in his absence.
I felt livid at the fact that Ash mentioned his mum had made breakfast… because it meant that dad wasn't around to make it.
Dad would never give complete answers as to his whereabouts whenever I asked, and it absolutely frustrated me, but… I had my suspicions. My suspicions being that his time outside of the house was all spent searching for Jacob — for signs of Jacob — for any word of Jacob. His eyes always looked defeated when he made it back home.
I grit my teeth at the thought, not wishing to see that later on. Today was supposed to be a happy day — the day I was to get my supplies for my first year of Hogwarts — not this. I already dreaded what was to come from the scrutiny of my soon-to-be professors and classmates, I didn't want to worry about what would happen to dad if he didn't have me as a responsibility to return home to at the end of those long days.
I didn't want him to go missing, too.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" the impatient tone Ash gave made me look at him, his face blurry from where he stood. "Mom's not going to let me touch anything until you come down to the table, too, so come on."
I repressed the urge to groan as I reached over to my side table, wrapping my fingers gently around my flat glasses. The frames were a split color, white along the bottom and black on the top. I put them on, blinking a few times to wake up and adjust to my vision focusing more clearly.
I could now see his bespectacled brown eyes pleading for me to get up quickly, the black frame of his square glasses somehow always slightly crooked. He was also always hungry. So maybe I wasn't being woken up for no reason, as I'd claimed before, but I could really care less about his mum's rules about everyone being able to eat together. It wasn't like it applied to my parents, so why enforce it on me…? But.. I did promise both of my parents that I'd behave while she was in charge and, thus far, I haven't broken my word.
In all honesty, I was infuriated when they first moved in with us. Mum and dad were around a lot more than usual that first week they were staying with us, spending time with Martha and giving her and Ash tours of London. Meanwhile, a lot of the time, they expected Ash and I to spend time together.. but…
He is just insufferable. Half of the time, he tries to trip me as a prank or I get in trouble with my parents for messes he makes. To top it all off… it felt like mum was beginning to look at him as a replacement in our house for Jacob.
Mum would never outright admit it, of course, not that I stood up to her about it. It just felt like everything had been so out of whack, and she asked them here as a way to mend it. Sometimes, I think, if something doesn't mend on its own that it should just stay broken.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I groaned, standing up to follow him to my bedroom door as he eagerly led the way. When he crossed the threshold, I quickly closed my door behind him and locked it, "As soon as I get dressed."
"Wha —? Ah, Jess, come on! I've been waiting forever!"
"Then you won't mind waiting just a little bit longer!" I replied through the door, running my hand exhaustedly through my blonde bangs. I didn't even like having bangs — mum only insisted on them because they made me 'look so cute.' They grew over my eyes too fast. At the very moment, they were at least only brushing against my eyebrows, which I always felt were too far above my eyes to be normal.
I felt slight smugness as Ash released an irritated groan from right outside, a small bump sounding as if he'd dropped his forehead against my door. Was I being petty? Yes, I knew I was, but I swore to myself up and down that I was in the right. I didn't want to face the reality that they were going to be around in the long run… but it was already happening.
Frustrated, I walked over to my dresser and began opening up drawers to pick out the clothes I wanted to wear for the day. I wanted something casual so I could at least feel somewhat comfortable, but I wanted it to look good, too. First impressions were everything, especially to whomever I might meet in Diagon Alley where one could always get any supplies they need. Especially for going to Hogwarts.
As I pulled a shirt out, my attention was drawn to the moving portraits standing on my dresser. I had pictures all across of me and Jacob… as a way to always remind me of his face whenever I felt like my memory was losing sight of it. My more recent one was the one I eyed the most as it was more closely resembling the last time I'd seen him before he disappeared — and it was of the two of us just before he was supposed to hop on the train to Hogwarts for his sixth year.
His eyes were like mine, a greenish blue, highlighting his fluffy blonde hair rather nicely. He was grinning at the camera as though he had no worry in the world, his mouth wide in a constant loop of laughter, and had one hand rubbing against the top of my head with my hair standing on end from the friction. My face was scrunched up as my small arms reached up to try pulling his hand off of me, the red heart birthmark under my right eye looked squished with the action.
I smiled sadly at it, quickly turning back toward my bed as I closed the drawer I pulled a pair of smoky blue capris out of.
I got dressed, admiring the shirt as one that mum had picked out for me — it was white with an animated drawing of orange, yellow, and purple flowers that would grow and shrink back down on repeat. At the center of the neckline was a thin, gold ribbon.
Slipping my feet into a pair of pink sandals, and clipping a gold choker necklace with a flower charm around my neck, I walked to my door and opened it.
Ash still stood there, his face lighting up at the fact that I was ready to go. "Finally! God, what takes so long to get dressed?"
"It's called finding the right outfit," I said, silently eyeing his clothes as he turned away from me to run to our staircase.
Admittedly speaking, Ash possessed normal wizarding garb because that was what his mum bought and expected him to wear… something about wanting her sons (because she has more boys than just him) to make a good impression on anyone who meets them.
Today, he wore a set of midnight blue robes which actually looked pretty sweet — though I'd never admit it — because he'd added his own style to it. He had an artistic side, which he had used on this particular set to paint a beautiful version of the night sky… what he drew made my outfits seem bleak in comparison, even though the design of the shirt I wore moved like photographs do.
Ash hopped on the rail on the left side of the staircase and turned to me with a mischievous grin, kicking his feet back and forth giddily from where he sat. "Race me to the bottom?"
I swallowed a knot in my throat, recalling how Jacob and I used to do that every morning on the rails. I turned my head with a small, "hmph," and crossed my arms, "I would never do something so childish."
"Suit yourself," was his response before I heard the sound of him sliding down the rail with a pronounced, "Wheee!"
I turned back to find he'd already disappeared from view down the winding staircase, the bottom out of sight from where I stood. I jumped into action by running down the mahogany stairs instead, lightly wondering what was for breakfast… the air smelled sweet the closer I got to the bottom but, though it smelled familiar, I couldn't quite pinpoint it.
I made it down the stairs and turned quickly into the open double doors to the dining room right next to it, immediately noticing the main dish at the center of the rectangular table.
Pancakes. Golden brown, fluffy bits of heaven.
"Good, you're here," a brusque voice said, just as American as Ash's.
I cleared my throat, not trusting my voice until I'd relieved it of the knot that had built up in thought of the last time dad had made such a dish… back when his mind wasn't so.. preoccupied…. I turned my attention to the woman who'd waited patiently for me to make it down the stairs, "Good morning, Mrs. Z. Breakfast smells incredible."
She gave me a small smile in response, the upward twist of the corners reminding me of the boy already seated at the table eagerly waiting for us to join. Ash was practically a carbon copy of her, only her eyes were colored black as night instead of brown. I'd once thought it to be eerie, but it didn't take long for me to see that even if her eyes seemed to be beyond stern when Ash was in trouble… she also had a mischievous twinkle to them sometimes. It was that factor, perhaps, that made him the way he is now.
"Well, come on, Jessamyn," she said, sitting down at the very end of the table with Ash positioned on her right side. "Before the pancakes get too cold."
Once I sat down on her left, we began putting pancakes on our plates and garnishing them with whatever toppings Martha provided. She and I took turns putting strawberries, blueberries, and bananas over them before lightly drizzling maple syrup over the top. I found my mouth watering voraciously at the sight… so maybe this isn't so bad of a start to only the most important year of my life.
I glanced across from me at Ash's pancakes and froze in surprise. He'd practically drowned his pancakes in syrup, so much so that it looked more like a soup with oversized dumplings and some strawberries.
Martha tsked lightly as she also studied his plate, "Boy. What have I told you about pouring too much syrup?"
"This isn't too much!" he retorted indignantly. "It's just right! You know I don't like when my pancakes are too dry. If I don't put in enough syrup, then that's just what I'm stuck with."
"It's far too much," she said, scrunching up her face distastefully as she returned her attention to her pancakes, cutting them elegantly into bite sized stacks with her fork and knife. "When it finally gets you sick, don't come running to me. It's your own fault you ignore all my warnings."
It was comments like that toward her son that once made me scared of her, but it didn't take long to realize that that was just how they communicated. Martha loved her son with all her heart, and most of the things that sounded extremely mean were just her way of either teasing him or hoping for him to figure out how to make the right decision.
"We don't eat this every day…" he said through mouthfuls of food. "So I'm not going to turn into a balloon, mom, don't worry so much."
She gave him a pointed look, basically saying 'it's my job to worry about you, so don't expect me not to.' All he returned was a careless shrug, continuing the meal with obvious enjoyment.
Meanwhile, I was attempting to copy Martha's stance with my own fork and knife, still having difficulty cutting without the pancakes sliding away from each other. Soon enough, she noticed and automatically reached over to correct the way I held each utensil, allowing my grip to be more manageable.
"Thank you," I said with a grateful smile.
Martha chuckled, "You know, Jessamyn, it doesn't hurt to ask for help if you need it. I'd rather you ask than that you make me watch you struggle."
A nervous giggle escaped my throat, "Yeah.. sorry about that."
"You have nothing to be sorry about…. Anyway, are you excited to get your school supplies today?"
I wish Jacob and my parents could've been around to ask me that question… "Yeah… I just —"
"Oh my God, so excited! Jessie and I —" Ash burst animatedly, ignoring my low growl of "Jessamyn" as he blabbed "— could quite possibly make friends even before we get on the Hogwarts Express! Wouldn't that be awesome?"
I held back a sigh as Martha chuckled at her son's excitable nature. I nearly admitted that I wished my parents could have joined us for the trip — or even that Jacob could've been around to escort me like he once claimed he would — but it almost felt like a blessing that Ash was so outspoken. To be vulnerable to them just as I had once allowed myself to be with my actual family before everything sunk down the drain three years ago.. it just felt like too much too soon.
I finally took a bite of my pancakes, closing my eyes in heavenly bliss as I savored the delectable mixture of the cinnamony, fluffy pancakes with the sweet syrup and fruits. The more I chewed, the more the flavors popped until I swallowed it… still tasting the syrup lingering on my tongue. Martha's cooking was always impressive.
"Would you like for me to come with you?" Martha asked. "I wouldn't mind a look at the stores Diagon Alley has to offer."
That would be nice, I thought, opening my mouth to respond just a smidgeon too late.
"No, Jessie and I will be fine on our own together," was Ash's reply. He then turned to me, "You must've been to Diagon Alley many times. I won't get lost so long as I stay with you."
"Well.. yeah, but —"
"Then that's settled!" he exclaimed, turning back to his mother who eyed him wordlessly for something that registered in Ash's brain with an upfront eye roll. "Um.. but thanks for the offer anyway, mom."
"You're welcome," she said with a satisfied nod. "Now Jessamyn…" I turned my gaze back up to her so she could ask an earnest question, "Do you agree with Ash on that?"
I eyed Ash's pleading expression for a moment. "Er — yeah. I agree." I'm gonna regret this…
