Snippet #1980339

Justin just couldn’t help himself. He was elated to be back. The so-described ruckus, well… with a bit of Transfiguration and Charms work, the lanky young wizard had set most of the unused silver and flatware at the Vulpes table to performing an impromptu rendition of the beloved Disney musical number “Be Our Guest”. Forks hopped about, weaving between the dishes heaped with food with their tined heads bobbing back and forth. Spoons and knives spun gracefully around one another, occasionally colliding with a metallic clatter then falling inert to the table as his spell-work was broken. Plates rolled on their edges, making neat turns at intervals. It was a fairly impressive display, and yes, quite noisy, but he just couldn’t help himself. Brilliant though he was, he hadn’t worked out a means to shake The Trace just yet (not for lack of trying), and an entire summer without magic had nearly done him in.

The Muggle-born students of his house seemed quite amused as he swayed in his seat, using his wand like a baton to conduct the affair as, in a terrible French accent, he sang the song. Students from wizarding families were a bit perplexed, and more than a few were rolling their eyes at his antics, but he couldn’t help smirking as he watched them try to figure out exactly what combination of effects he was using to achieve the feat. It was pretty much the only reason that the bookish-by-large Vulpes were so accepting of a reprobate like Justin; lazy and goofy as he was, he was undeniable one of the finest wizards in the House, and his skills with Charms and Transfiguration paled in comparison to his Potions work.

Throughout his little performance, he did his best to catch two particular pairs of eyes; first Emerson’s, then Felix’s. They, surely, would have appreciated his showmanship and the raucous results it had. It wasn’t long at all before Professor Hutson arrived and “politely” asked Justin to discontinue… which he did, mostly because he couldn’t remember all the words to the song anyway. Besides, he had business to conduct. He’d noticed several of his more regular customers eyeing him since they’d been seated, and since he wasn’t all that hungry, he decided to get business out of the way so he could move back to pleasure. First, he slung a quick, one-armed hung around Bliss, then shot off a quick salute to Teiver. With that accomplished, he slipped from his seat, slinking down the aisle between his table and the Arietem table after slinging his messenger bag over his narrow shoulder.

What followed looked more or less like old friends catching up; he’d clap his hand on a shoulder, or shake hands, grinning and laughing and joking like a fool. Anyone watching very closely would note that vials of various colored liquids were changing hands, along with plenty of sickles and even galleons. The Arietem were his best customers- small wonder, there. When he caught sight of Bellona, he paused for just long enough to blow her a cheeky kiss before continuing on his way. He often wondered why he hadn’t been sorted into that House; he certainly had plenty of friends there. Like most things, it didn’t bother Justin for overlong. He had much more important things to think about.

This way the year. He’d decided it that summer in a fit of loneliness. This was the year that he would finally tell Emerson Caldwell how he really felt about him. This was the year that he snuck or begged or trampled his way out of the friend-zone and into the arms of one of his oldest friends. Wearing a crooked smirk that wasn’t at all indicative of his intentions, he changed course… making his way toward the Cervus table, where his not-so-funny crush could be found.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vance Abernathy - Arietem House

“She’ll be finishing out her education at Beauxbatons, for the umpteenth time,” Vance drawled, his patience wearing extremely thin. His sister’s little coven was abuzz with Nevaeh’s absence, and they couldn’t quite seem to grasp a year at Magus Grex without her. They have no idea how little she thought of them. They were little more than tools, stepping stones, but even with her gone, they go through these motions, feigning how upset they are that she’s gone. “She’s lucky, frankly. The education in Europe is much better, there’s more… tradition. I’d hoped to transfer to Durmstrang myself, but… there’s something of a legacy regarding Abernathy men and this school, and I can’t blame Father too much for keeping it alive.”

He’d been rehearsing this little song and dance all summer long. It was all he could do not to grind his teeth as one of the little sycophants went on and on about how they should dedicate the first party of the year to Nevaeh, sort of as the going away party they’d never gotten to throw. Generally, that sort of party is called a wake, he thought grimly. Beneath the table, he flexed his right hand, working his thumb and fingers a bit. The craftsmanship of the mechanical replacement was goblin caliber, but he still didn’t trust it, even if the big-eared little things were renowned for this sort of thing.

As he looked across the table, slowly scanning the faces of Arietem House, he could see the way they were looking at him. The way they were sizing him up. Without Nevaeh, his stature in the school was halved or worse. They were wondering if they had what it took to unseat him and rise to the top of the social food-chain. He almost laughed aloud. It was a testament to what was left of his composure and his breeding that he managed not to. Let them have it; he wouldn’t even fight them for such an empty honor as to be the biggest fish in this dismally murky pond.

Could he actually trust them? Trust anyone? Nevaeh couldn’t have been the only student recruited for… whatever it was his grandfather and those hooded cohorts of his had been planning. There had to be others. Being at school might keep Vance safe from the adult wizards who might want him killed, but their student-pawns? Those he’d have to remove from the board by himself.

He watched his peers carefully, looking for any indications of ill-intention. Most of them smiled at him, but their eyes were unsmiling. Vance had no illusions about his status. It was built on fear and respect, not affection. Not a one of these cretins was a tenth as adept at playing the game as he was, though. Not a one of them had blood half as pure.

He was dragged into a conversation regarding this year’s Quodpot team. ”Well, Zinkley is out,” he put in quickly, almost automatically. ”We’ll have to hold a try-out to fill his spot, but otherwise, the championship roster will go untouched.”

”And who says you’re captain again this year, Abernathy? It was starting already. The querent, a brick-faced wizard of middling heritage who certainly could have beaten Vance in a Muggle-fight, was staring at him hungrily.

”Ah, no one did, that’s true…” He took that opportunity to cut his meat, revealing his dragon-skin gloved hand in full for the first time since he’d sat down. With deliberate precision, he dissected the ham he’d taken for himself into tiny pieces. The smile he directed at the other 7th year, Barstowe, yes, Barstowe, he recalled now, was absolutely pleasant… but there was murder in Vance’s eyes. ”But of course, it simply goes without saying. Do try to keep up.” He shone his smile around the table, and most of the Arietem began to laugh on cue. Outplayed and intimidated, Barstowe stared at his plate. Let them come indeed, he decided, spearing a rectangle of ham with his fork and levering it into his mouth.