July 17, 2019, 12:20:37 PM

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1
Britain / Re: [slaughter hall] everybody gets a shot [eris]
« Last post by Eris Rosier on Today at 10:46:11 AM »
This was probably a terrible idea, but then she’d been having a run of those lately, hadn’t she? She’d come to realise, following the evening at the O Sioda Manor, that she could no longer rely on anyone but herself. She’d known this all along, really, but it was clearer to her now than it ever had been before. There was, to her knowledge thus far, only one other person who had been in that room that she trusted – and she trusted him because of how far back their histories entwined. And because she knew he was terrified of her. He wasn’t a threat, she was. A much more palatable arrangement than the one she’d had with Gaius (not that she cared to compare them, in any way, thank you).

Eris couldn’t bring herself to leave Slaughter Hall, even if it felt ridiculous to have such a large house to herself; it wasn’t a sprawling estate like that which some of the true upper echelons of pureblood society called home, but it certainly was not pokey – any house that had multiple sitting rooms or a dining room able to fit twenty or so people was nothing less than a manor. The Rosier home, however, was in a sad state; Marcella Rosier had died only a couple of months ago, but she had been bedridden long before that – her refusal to go to St. Mungo’s (“where they let the mudbloods roam free”) had been the final nail in the coffin, quite literally. Eris hadn’t really mourned. She hadn’t been close to her mother – that tended to happen when one lived a double life and cut all ties with their family.

And so Slaughter Hall had become damp, and mould-ridden, and draughty. Eris had instructed their solitary elf to maintain the rooms they actually used and to not worry about the rest – they hadn’t the money to furnish the surplus rooms, let alone keep them clean and habitable. With Avery coming Eris had actually opened doors that hadn’t been opened in years – she wasn’t picking him the best room, but she was going to let him have the one with the least musty smell. Not out of any affection for him, mind you, but because she was proud and that was the only reason she hadn’t already sold the place. The reason she had kept up – publicly – the appearance of being a member of a still-grand family, with her well-made robes and fine taste in dining establishments.

The blonde witch ran her fingertip around the rim of her wine glass as she stared into the fireplace, the flames dancing in the reflection of her glazed-over eyes. What a life – how different would it have been, had she made any other decision than the one she had? How different could it still be?

Through the cavernous shell of the manor her ears picked up the sound of knocking on the door. Nobody knocked, nobody ever visited, so it could only be him. “Spawler!” Eris cried out in a harsh tone, and as she rose to her feet she saw the blurry shape scutter past the doorway towards the entrance to let her guest in. By the time she’d made her way to the door, the house elf had finally wrenched it open. She smoothed the front of her black gown and met his eyes. There was no smile, nor any other greeting – her expression was impassive. “Avery. Come in,”

“Take his things,” she said quietly to the elf, in a softer tone than might have been expected. “Follow me,” she spoke to Avery again now and led him to the sitting room – or, rather, the only one she used – her heels clacking on the hard wood floors. It wasn’t late, but it was already dark out thanks to the weather. Thick curtains covered every window and a fire was roaring in the grate. There were spaces on the walls were paintings had obviously once hung. The Auror gestured at the sofa opposite as she took her own seat in an emerald green winged armchair. “If I were feeling polite I would ask how you’ve been since Ireland, but I really don’t care.”

“For Merln’s sake relax, would you just relax?” she snapped quietly, “If I was going to kill you I wouldn’t bring you here to do it.” She couldn’t really blame him for being on edge, but it was high time he grew a pair. She sighed and picked up the bottle of wine she’d been enjoying by herself (a cheap shiraz, he surely wouldn’t know any different), poured some into her own glass before placing it on the low table between them, pushing it towards him. “Spawler’s made up a room for you, you’re welcome to… decorate or clean it if it isn’t to your liking. Get some muggle ornaments if it will help you feel more at home.”

She was used to at least a little bit of small talk at the Ministry before getting to the crux of a conversation, but she didn’t feel it was entirely necessary with Avery. Then again, they hadn’t talked since… well, they hadn’t even talked then. “You look terrible,” she said plainly, giving him a piercing once-over. “Do you need clothes, too? Or do you wear denim now?”
2
Library / Re: girls and boys [gene]
« Last post by Nell Jenkins on Today at 09:39:04 AM »

Nell grinned. Part of her wondered who Gene’s ‘nice airheads’ were, but then she had her own, too, and she didn’t much care to name them lest they ever find out and take it poorly (Owain, mostly – he was probably the nicest airiest head she knew).

She could feel her cheeks warming slightly as her list hung in their air between them – she could practically see it, written out in her own hand. Nell didn’t often fall victim to embarrassment, but she supposed it was happening here, specifically, because she was naming people they knew. People they knew, but whom she had no intention of ever enlightening about her attraction to them. But hey, they had each other’s lists now and it wasn’t like she suspected Gene would be telling anyone, even without the risk of her paying him in kind. Would she? She didn’t think so.

“Excuse you, Sam is definitely good looking. In that… like, normal kind of way.” She laughed as the words came out, wondering how Sam Lynch might feel about such a backhanded compliment. Nell’s eyes met Gene’s. “Well, yeah,” she shrugged, as if that was obvious. “Smart, creative… usually achievably good looking,” she smirked. “Not into that… ripped, jock type. Neither are you judging by your list.” She gave him a knowing look, then turned her attention back to her herbology homework.

She hadn’t even moved to pick her quill back up before Gene spoke again. Nell looked at him. “Uh, yeah.” The Slytherin grinned sheepishly – or as sheepishly as she tended to do. “Hey, I get it – same.” She felt like she ought to say more, but she wasn’t exactly sure what. She licked and bit her lip, stared at him for a moment longer, then averted her gaze back to her parchment.

One more interruption – a goodbye, almost, to this monumental little conversation they’d had. Their shared revelations. She smiled, genuinely. “Sure, I’ll keep an eye out,” she pulled her textbook closer, “just for you.”


END
3
Hogsmeade / Re: [MP] Is it me you're looking for? [Seamus]
« Last post by Susan Bones on Today at 08:44:32 AM »
“Right.  Cool.  Six-thirty.  Friday.”  She tapped the scrap of parchment she had passed over the bar with her address scribbled on it.  “Here.”  Susan didn’t know why she had seemingly lost the ability to speak in full sentences.  It was a bit embarrassing.  Really, she just didn’t know what else to say.  So her brain had just had her helpfully repeat the facts as though they were important investigative notes to commit to memory. 

Seamus seemed shocked to suddenly remember he was at work.  She grinned at him and the way he was talking.  Then, then?  At least they were both being idiots, then

“So…”  Susan cleared her throat too, feeling the awkwardness of his pause.  “Well, I should go…”  She rose slowly from her seat, unsure if there were any other social pleasantries they should observe before she left.  “Umm, so it was nice to see you.  And I’ll ummm see more of you on Friday I guess.”  Taking a step back, the red head shrugged.  Urgh.  Way to go and sound enthusiastic, Sus!  “I mean, I look forward to it.”  She hastily added with a self-conscious smile. 

Was this the sort of moment that acquaintances or friends would normally shake hands or hug?  Susan had no idea but decided that the bulk of the bar between them would be a good enough excuse for not engaging in physical contact.  She settled for a little wave instead.  “Ok, bye.”  With that she turned and started to make her way towards the door.  As she walked, she briefly wondered if Seamus was watching her.  If he was then she desperately hoped that she could at least walk like a normal human being on her way out. 

/out
4
Teacher's Offices / Re: Your Journey Begins Here (Graeme)
« Last post by Graeme Becker on Today at 08:33:01 AM »
Beck listened thoughtfully as Timothy explained what he knew of the history.  He ran his hands over the rough wood of the boats.  He peered into them and under them.  Yet if they held any secrets, they were not something to be spotted with the naked eye.  The DADA Professor stepped back, stumped.  He crossed his arms as he considered the boats from a distance, even tilting his head (as though the slight angle would help him notice something he had missed).  Stepping close once more he muttered a couple of testing spells, checking for what he knew of tampering or malicious curses.  The results were inconclusive. 

With a shrug of his shoulders, Beck admitted “I have no idea why they didn’t work”.  However, he still sounded intrigued rather than bitter or disappointed.  Even if he couldn’t solve the puzzle tonight, that didn’t mean he was going to abandon it. 

“We’re making an assumption,” he stated out loud as the realisation struck him, “that the boats are at fault.”  He rubbed his chin contemplatively.  “It could be some outside force or environmental factor.  Maybe the water?”  Beck eyed the lake suspiciously but that seemed an unlikely source.  The inhabitants of the lake were unlikely to suffer tampering of the waters without making some kind of fuss about it.  So far as he knew, there had been no complaints.  Magic was a funny thing though.  It didn’t always travel in straight lines.  Therefore there wasn’t necessarily a simple answer to any of it.  “It might have been something specific to the conditions on that night?  Or maybe a symptom of a larger problem…”

“Well.”  Beck rubbed his arms vigorously as though chilled.  “It doesn’t look like we’re going to find our answers tonight.”
5
Europe / [TTD] Far From Home [Piper]
« Last post by Leonard Hardy on Today at 08:14:42 AM »
Diagon Alley was a nightmare.  Overcrowded and loud; it was unbearable.  Lenny knew he shouldn’t have come.  It was Christmas season and the shoppers were voracious.  Everyone had a slightly harassed look about them as they hurried to-and-fro.  The fifteen-year-old stumbled through the crowd with his head down and his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched uncomfortably.  He was only there because he had no other option – or at least no good options.  Desperation kept his feet plodding along the street even when the vice grip of anxiety closed up his throat and made it hard to breathe. 

It was a relief when he reached his destination and stepped into the relatively quiet interior of the shop.  The young wizard swallowed nervously before shuffling his way over to the counter.  Fishing through the junk in his pockets (mostly quills and crumpled pieces of paper), Lenny pulled out an intricately engraved pocket-watch.  It was an antique, made with fine craftsmanship and materials.  Once it had belonged to his grandfather and he suspected it was an heirloom of the family.  It was valuable – or at least so he hoped, because Lenny needed the money.

“I… I’d like to sell this.”  He choked out the words and handed over the watch for inspection.  His nan wouldn’t want him to sell it, but if she were in any fit state to stop him, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.  He had never known his grandfather but doubted he would have begrudged Lenny this if it meant having food in the pantry. 

The old man behind the counter eyed Lenny suspiciously in his threadbare and mismatched clothing.  The fifteen-year-old was clearly nervous and couldn’t stop fidgeting.  His eyes flickered uneasily around the room as he waited.  Altogether he did not present a very trustworthy image.  When the shopkeeper started asking a series of pointed questions about the watch, Lenny knew that something was wrong.  His instincts screamed at him to get out – now!

“Sorry, Sir.  I think I’ve changed my mind.  I don’t want to sell it.”  He reached out to take back the watch but the old man held it away.  Lenny froze, unsure what to do.  He really wanted to leave, however, without the watch he didn’t have anything else of value to sell.  “I didn’t steal it!”  He blurted out abruptly.  “I promise.  Please.  Just give it back.”  The shop keep smiled and placed the watch up on a high shelf behind him before telling Lenny just to stay put while he contacted someone from the Ministry.  Mouth dropping open, Lenny felt anger and fear flood through him.  The absolute last thing he needed was Ministry officials asking questions about him.  They would want to talk to his parents, his gran…  No!  He couldn’t let that happen. 

Lenny bit his lip hard and then made himself shift into action.  As the old man turned away, Lenny took out his wand.  “Accio!”, he cried and the watch flew into his hand.  Spinning on his heel he ran, wrenched open the door and then kept running down the street.  Fear leant him speed as he weaved haphazardly through the crowd, bumping into shopping bags and boxes.  There was no knowing how much trouble he would be in if he was caught.  He’d just used underage magic!  Lenny didn’t stop running – until the laws of physics stopped him.

Colliding bodily with a large man as he came around a corner, Lenny was sent sprawling to the ground.  The man, similarly thrown onto his backside, was visibly furious.  He started to yell, little bits of spittle flying from his mouth.  Lenny scrambled to his feet and was horrified to realise that his watch had slipped from his hand.  Spotting it in a scattered pile of belongings on the ground, he stooped, scooped it up and hurried on down the street.  Noticing a gap in a nearby barrier, he ducked behind it to catch his breath.  Within moments a new voice, a female voice, called out to him, asking if he was lost.  Feeling panicked, Lenny was struck mute.  Looking around he saw that he was in a large open space, which had been cordoned off with ropes into smaller spaces, within which people were gathered in huddles.  A large board below a clock displayed names and times.  None of it made any immediate sense to Lenny, nor did the pile of junk that was laid out to one side. 

A cry of “Thief! Thief!” could be heard from the street.  Looking down at his hands, Lenny was horrified to realise he had picked up something else with his grandfather’s watch.  Some kind of ticket?.  He raised it to look at, dumbstruck by what he had accidentally done, while the uniformed woman who had called out to him made her way over.  Noticing the ticket, she gasped.  “Quick, quick!  C’mon.  Move it.  Hurry!”  She urged him, looking flustered, busy and in no mood for arguments.  He allowed her to steer him over to one of the huddled groups of people.  They shifted to make room for him and Lenny was still so stunned by the events of the last few minutes that he didn’t protest as someone grabbed his hand and put it on a battered old umbrella.  A portkey.  It was a portkey.  Lenny’s mind sluggishly supplied after a moment. 

“No!  Wai-“  Lenny tried to pull away but it was too late.  He felt the hook behind his navel, a pushing pulling sensation, and then he was being bodily dragged to a new location.  On the other side he landed roughly and fell to his knees.  Someone nearby grabbed him by the elbow and helped him to his feet.  Oh Merlin, where am I?  The young wizard gaped around in confusion.  He couldn’t read the signs which were clearly in another language.  Not England then.  Panic threatened to overcome all of his senses but he fought to maintain rational control over his mind.  He needed to figure out where he was and how to get home.  Another child might have run straight to the nearest adult to ask for help.  Lenny, however, was distrustful of most adults and used to taking care of things on his own.  Yet how was he going to get out of this one by himself?

Maybe he could at least ask someone where he was?  That seemed pretty harmless and a good place to start.  Making his way away from the landing zone, Lenny looked around for someone approachable.  He felt too nervous to speak to any large groups of people so he sought out individuals.  Unfortunately, his first couple of attempts did not go too well.  A young man reading a book simply snorted derisively at Lenny’s enquiry and turned away.  An old lady had stared at him blankly, clearing not understanding a word he was saying.  That was the reaction he seemed to get the most.  He began to lose hope.  Then as he was passing by a pretty witch with black hair, Lenny thought he heard her say something in English.  He paused and then hesitantly approached her.  “Sorry to bother you Miss…”  Lenny unconsciously wrung his hands.  “But could you by any chance tell me where I am?”

@Piper Morel
6
Diagon Alley / Re: a thrill of hope [ollie]
« Last post by Liam Thompson on Today at 06:56:38 AM »
The singer didn’t meet Liam’s eyes, which was disappointing for half a bitter second, but it made sense from the angle of someone performing for the job they wanted more than the one they had. Pretend they were all into it and someday they all would be. Been there, been there. He’d allow it.

It seemed he’d walked in at the end of the set, though, as the young man politely thanked them all and stepped down from the stage. Liam doubted he’d be able to track down a record of somebody who was singing covers at Ray’s grubby Tavern in Diagon Alley. Wasn’t that just the way of tonight, then, he thought, staring at the fairy lights through the bottom of his glass. He might have been disappointed, but there was something he’d always liked about feeling justified in brooding. Half the time it felt like every feeling he had was baseless and meaningless—Liam was sort of fond of the universe validating him if no one else would.

And then he set down his drink, and the singer was at the bar between him and the witch.

Well, fuck that. No point in sulking if the universe was going to put him within speaking distance. “I’ll cover that,” said Liam loudly to the barmaid, gesturing to the drink she’d just set down. “Don’t imagine she’s paying you as much as you deserve,” he added more quietly, with a small grin. “Least I can do.”

He inclined his drink toward the singer’s guitar. “Wish I’d seen more of that, mate,” he said. “You ever record anything?” If he hadn’t, then Liam would obviously have to put in a good word somewhere. Lots of sad drunks in the wizarding world these days. They all deserved some miserable music even if they had better taste in bars.

“Rigby, then?” he asked. “Not Eleanor, I hope?” He also hoped he’d gotten the surname right, or the joke would fall through.
7
France / [TTD] Learning How to Grow [Filomena]
« Last post by Thomasina Tatton on Today at 06:11:15 AM »
How long had it been? Years right? Oh, how time had flown since their last meetup. Things were certainly a lot better for this elderly witch. Wait she wasn't THAT old sixty-five wasn't that bad for a witch and frankly, she felt just as spry and agile as she did twenty years ago. No old age wasn't something that limited this witch and she wouldn't let it. Especially not when she was to be visiting an old friend of hers. Filomena had helped her a bit during her worst times when she was younger and though the two didn't keep in contact as much as Thomasina had wanted to they did send some letters every few months when needed. Thomasina wouldn't let their communication falter even if she wanted to like her old habit of keeping her social connections remained.

Today they would be visiting a section of the muggle world of Paris. Thomasina wanted to do a lesson on muggle artwork so they would be visiting the Louvre. She would normally have apparated but she had received word of a floo network she could hop into that lead to a wizarding cafe nearby the museum. This would make things a lot easier and the chance of her splinching herself certainly would be nonexistent. So when she arrived at the cafe she brushed off the soot from her blouse and stepped onto the floorboard. The gentle creak of the wood below gave her a sense of ease as she looked around at the staff who were staring at her. She spoke in fluent french and she answered their confused looks, "Please excuse my intrusion." She gave a small bow and made her way towards tables situated outside. This was to be their meeting point.

A few minutes passed by and a waitress came by and asked for her order in which Thomasina responded, "Just a cup of tea please." She didn't specify despite the concerned glances she got from the waitress. Thomasina was going to try whatever the girl had made for her either way so it mattered not what she was served. While she waited for her tea to arrive she watched the people walk by and tried to pick out who might be wizards and who were muggles. She was fairly decent at it as most wizards had a small tell when around muggles that would fly over must muggle heads. Her tea arrived shortly after with concerned looks from the waitress who stayed behind to see how Thomasina would react. She took a small sip and gave the girl a nod to dismiss her. The girl must have been new cause a sigh of relief was evident from her face as she returned to her other customers. Thomasina wondered if maybe she should have been more considerate to the girl. She didn't get much time to think about this though as she saw in the distance a familiar silhouette. That just had to be Filomena. So giving a gentle wave to the older woman to show she was here Thomasina waited for the other educator to join her.

@Filomena Bellantoni
8
Misc. Hogwarts Rooms. / Re: no need to run and hide [henry]
« Last post by Henry Murphy on Today at 04:59:17 AM »
Nell did not look like she bought it, and Henry forced himself not to dwell on that. Even if she thought he was trying to come on to her, she didn’t seem to like, have a problem with it, or at least not a big enough one not to let it go. Of course, that wasn’t much better. Well, it was kind of better. The thought of a pretty girl being receptive to his affections was rare and encouraging. But of course, he didn’t feel very good about thinking of her as pretty at all. And... he was doing a terrible job at forcing himself not to dwell on it. Nell had moved on. “None of the others have been bothering you, Jenkins?” Henry asked. She’d been sort of teasing about it, but he felt it was his responsibility to make sure.

She accused him of aiming to be the next Minister. “Well, I mean... Kind of?” said Henry, and he laughed nervously again. Did other people not have that expectation of him now? Henry hated learning his impressions of things were unfounded, non-universal. Well, he considered: Nell was Muggle-born. Did Muggles have head students? Maybe it meant something different. Or maybe it just meant something different when you were in a society bigger than your school class.

“I dunno, I mean, obviously I’m not cut out to be the actual Minister of Magic.” He hurriedly had to assure her he knew that when he realized where he’d left the conversation. “But I dunno, I feel like I should put in a bit of effort, you know?” Henry shook his head as they reached the end of the corridor. “Can’t disappoint my fans.” McGonagall, apparently, being the singular fan. Still not someone Henry felt like he could disappoint.

She teased him about the frogs again, but this time he was glad enough to change the subject to genuinely laugh. “Maybe they’ll hire me,” he said. “Not that they needed my help to do good business. I ought to start supporting more unknown retailers.”

“So how’s O.W.L. year treating you?” asked Henry. Better than his own had treated him, he hoped.
9
Christmas shopping was always a great time to Rhiannon. Sure she wasn't the shopping type overall, but when it came to her family she could do it all the time. She had gotten here with Gabriella, and some help from the house-elf probably under instruction by her father, and the two were almost inseparable. In this situation, they weren't too far from each other. Rhiannon was in this jewelry store while Gabriella was just next door searching for something. They weren't too far from each other, but the idea that she was a bit far from her mother made Rhiannon a tad concerned. Sure Gabriella kept a strong face in front of her, but Rhiannon was wise. She knew that her mother hadn't been the best in crowds nor was she always the bravest of people. So she had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind having left her alone in another store, but she needed to make a surprise purchase for her and this was the only way of doing so.

Looking around the Stringfellow store she found a multitude of items some a bit too pricey for the young girl. She was only thirteen, after all, how was she supposed to afford all these things? She had a small amount of money to cover some of the more gaudy or discounted items, but overall she wasn't rich or anything. Well that was when it came to the money she had earned or found herself. Now when it came to the money she may have pilfered from her parents then that was another question. Just a galleon here and there nothing too noticeable though, but it added up after a while. So here she was with a nice amount of coin to buy her family some nice presents. Still, she didn't much like the idea of taking money unasked from them. Rhiannon would, of course, have to smuggle some money back to them without them noticing. It wasn't stealing, but just borrowing for a short period. That was always fine right?

The young witch found herself standing near a silver necklace with a brown Sillimanite gem attached to it. It wasn't a pretty color to Rhiannon who would have much preferred to get a Flourite gem for Gabriella, but this one was on a sale today. Sure it was only a few sickles on sale, but it meant she would have more to spend on others. She continued to linger at the case for quite some time to the point she didn't even register someone was approaching her. Then when they addressed her quickly turned to the voice to see an older boy. A fellow Slytherin and student. What was his name again? Rodney? No, it was Roderick. Roderick Mcnair was someone she had known about though never really got to talk too much in school. She had also known about his family and some of their experiences. The two had a similar background though some social differences did make them distant to each other at the same time. Still, if she was taught anything by her father it was that using social networking to advance in society was the utmost importance. So she put on her kindest face and addressed him back.

"Of course," She gave a small nod to the older gentleman and continued looking at the jewel pondering if she would buy it or not. Would her mother even like this stone? Maybe she could just get her a new tome to read? Would certainly be easier since the two had a strong love for literature to bond on that, but something about a new necklace enticed her. It was probably the slightly vain side of Rhiannon that made this present choice seem more sensible. Her thoughts, of course, were interrupted by Roderick who asked if she was eyeing the stone for someone. "Yes, In fact, I'm looking into purchasing this for my mother." Mother, it still felt weird to say. She hadn't seen Gabriella as her mother for the longest time and yet here she was seeing her as just that. Not that it was a bad thing she did, but it was strange to the young girl. It would certainly take some time to get used to using the word casually.

Then came the complaints. Rhiannon had to suppress rolling her eyes at the boy's comment. If shopping was such a drag why was he even doing it? Certainly, he had a house-elf that could do the shopping for him? Even if the rumors about their family being a bit desolate were true the family was pureblooded and should have handed down a house elf for generations. Rhiannon sighed slightly and asked, "If you don't like shopping would you like to join me then?" She gave him a pointed look before continuing, "I could use an outsiders opinion and I'm sure you could bring some interesting insight into my choices." It was a simple offer that he couldn't refuse. If he was indeed in such a state like the rumors were then being by her side would make him seem less inconspicuous. Sure she was four years his junior, but if anyone should ask they could always play it off as them being cousins or something. Which probably wasn't that far from the truth anyways with all the pureblood interbreeding. "So what do you say?"

10
It hadn't been his best work, but Rod had to hand it to him - Murphy was slowly getting better at not rising to the bait. Good for the Head Boy, annoying for Roderick. He could feel the rage simmering behind Murphy's cool demeanour, so it wasn't like he was losing his edge. And that sudden drop to a lower register in Murphy's voice as he told them all off, that was definitely someone who was irritated. But the lack of overt reaction was not great for Roderick's image to his friends and lackeys. Horowitz hadn't even said anything. Roderick had been expecting more of a... of a something, from that Gryffindor.

Roderick turned to the assembled Slytherins behind him. He had to say something, make them feel like they won that ten-second encounter with the Head Boy (and also with Horowitz). "Oh, get to class, Macnair!" he sneered, in the worst Northern English accent he could muster up, pitched up into a dumb sounding falsetto. That got a laugh from the lads at least. It was important to get the last word, so as long as the other two boys kept walking away, Roderick would win.

That's what's important. Winning. Victories in class, and in these stupid hall altercations. There was a voice in Roderick's head, sounding too much like Archie, that told him to keep his mouth shut, not to try and get a reaction from Murphy and Horowitz before they turned the corner.

The voice was ignored.

"Look at them," he remarked to Newton and Trutch casually, but certainly loud enough to be heard down the hall. "Bloody Head Boy and his pet dog, walking 'round looking like they got muffs on their heads. Ought to help them out and wax it off." If Horowitz or Murphy were to turn around, they'd see Roderick's smug face smiling at them, while behind, his mates sniggered and laughed.



 


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