Michael Grosvenor
November 10, 2011 11:22 AM
Muggleborn Orientation! by Michael Grosvenor
On the first morning after the Feast, a notice had appeared in the commons. It read 'Muggleborn Q&A session,' in large, colourful letters. Michael had wanted to use the jaunty charm to make them flash but he hadn't really mastered it last year and, after a summer off from magic, he wasn't confident. He didn't want his lettering to go on the blink and go out or do something totally manic and spread itself over the common room, so he'd stuck to good old-fashioned felt-tip pen. It looked more Muggly that way anyway and therefore less intimidating to someone fresh off the wagon.'Being a Muggleborn new to the school gives you a lot of questions. Come and have them answered by someone who has been through it,' the poster read. 'Wednesday after dinner, chairs nearest the door.
Michael felt that 'common room' was a bit vague and that giving a description of himself was a bit weird, so he hoped that would suffice as a location. And now Wednesday night had come around and here he was where he'd said he'd be, attempting to look friendly and approachable. The poster hadn't specified that it was for Muggleborns only, though it implied it was that kind of 'ask a Muggleborn' rather than a chance for Purebloods to get an informal Muggle Studies class. However, if any of them were like Laurie, he wouldn't be surprised if he found himself describing televisions, and had tried to revise how aeroplanes stayed up just in case. If no first years turned up, he wouldn't put it beyond his roommate to take advantage of a dedicated hour to ask him questions.
OOC – hey, any interested firsties, feel free to jump in. Second years, I imagine Michael would have asked the other Muggleborns in his year if they wanted to join in, so you can write them as being there to help too if you want.
13
Michael Grosvenor
Muggleborn Orientation!
199
Michael Grosvenor
1
5
Angel Shield
November 26, 2011 10:47 AM
... by Angel Shield
After having it pointed out the first night by the Head of House, Angel always made a point to stop and look at the bulletin board whenever he was in the commons room. While he had no interest in Quidditch, important fliers and notices seemed like something he should be aware of. After the first night one such flier had appeared next to the Quidditch sign up sheet which already held many names. Ghostly fingertips had traced the differently shaded letters, brushing lightly over the words as he tried to force them to give up their secrets.He had been unable to decipher it on his first attempt, not wanting to stand in front of the bulletin board long enough to slowly decode the words. Embarrassment had lain clammy fingers on Angel’s shoulders as he stood, his lips silently sounding out the words, when he thought someone might observe his struggle. It had taken three more attempts to gain the full meaning of the words. Muggleborn? I do wonder...
The way Lady Cynthia spoke of them, one would assume Muggleborns were little more than clever beasts of burden fit for nothing but servants work. They all look the same to me Angel thought as he sat in the commons on the designated night. He had been unable to tell muggleborn from pure, although the introductions of some marked them as pure it wasn’t something he relied overly much on. After all, he gave no such introductions so assuming everyone did would be a mistake. Muggleborns inspired no ill feelings in the young albino, who knew perhaps better than most the shortcomings some Pureblood families had created in themselves.
He didn’t wish to participate in such a meeting, but Angel couldn’t deny the curious that led to him sitting in the commons, books, a single tattered quill, parchment plentiful in untidy piles around him as well as a few crumpled balls on the floor of work too ink stained to be acceptable. It looked like a diligent student’s book bag and exploded around the young pureblood. Even with the aid of his tutor homework was a painstakingly slow process, something that couldn’t be accomplished in its entity in her company simply because they would have spent hours upon hours in the library. But, Angel had meant what he said to the Headmistress, he would take as long as needed to get his assignments compete, even if it took him hours longer than any other student to produce something barely passable.
The mere thought of dinner had turned Angel’s stomach, so he chose to skip the meal all together. His quill made slow ink stained tracks over the parchment in close approximation of letters as he forced his thoughts in to half drawn words. The text book he should have been using provided an adequate writing surface as he went off the remembered lecture for as much of the assignment as possible.
Crimson eyes glanced at the door to the commons every few minutes, freezing when they landed on an older boy taking a seat in the area designated by the flier. He watched the other boy, curiosity flaring inside of him, but saw nothing to differentiated him from any other boy. Perhaps when there are more I will see the similarities? Angel wondered before he permitted his eyes to drop back to his pitiful assignment. It became almost a reward, he could only glance up after he wrote one line of his assignment. After the fifth look he gave himself, Angel sighed. No one else had arrived, it appeared that his curiosity would go unsatisfied.
The quill, after all the abuse it had taken over the past couple of days finally gave way. The soft snap of the shaft cracking went unnoticed until Angel glanced down again and saw the ink staining his fingers, a fat drop had landed right in the middle of his assignment. Quickly he pulled the now messy quill away to keep from ruining the parchment further, only have ink drip almost artfully onto his white robes which hat already been smudged and streaked with the stuff from the past few hours of labor.
He stared forlornly at the broken quill, the week was only half done and Angel had only been permitted one quill a week. Again he glanced up, perhaps there is a spell to fix it? Angel hesitated, not wanting to bother the older boy but noticing that he still sat alone, perhaps he wouldn’t be be terribly annoyed to help? After shifting the avalanche of papers around enough to be able to stand with out risking everything falling over, Angel walked silently over to the boy.
Black ink had somehow managed to streak one sharp cheek bone, and his white robes bore more than a few spots of the sharply contrasting color. Angel stopped a few feet away, holding the broken quill awkwardly in his black stained hands, trying to keep the mess from spreading to the carpet. “Can fix?” He asked in a hopeful Georgian drawl.
0
Angel Shield
...
0
Angel Shield
0
5