Victor Calza
It came as no surprise to Victor that he hadn't been able to sleep.
His mind had been at work, churning, producing new angles, devouring them instantly, processing, analyzing. He'd lain in bed for perhaps an hour...two? Just staring at the ceiling, staring out the window, listening to nothingness. Eventually he decided to rise, slip into some comfortable clothes, and go for a walk. There would be no sleep tonight, he knew. Might as well get reacquainted with old Magus Grex.
He'd missed the opening speech and the feast, and whatever other festivities had occurred last night. Not that it mattered. He could recite Rockwell's speech back to the old man from memory. And he probably could have told anyone what happened after that. Students gorged themselves. The quodpot jocks pounded their chests and the girls with yawning cavities in their skulls swooned at them. Pollack probably tried to keep everyone in line. Hardy and Flint undoubtedly tried to pull some stunt. The elder Turner girl secured herself a new boy toy. And surely Beauregard once again demonstrated his complete inability to do anything remotely subtle. Victor knew the story. Even if all the rumors, the beliefs spread by word of mouth, even if they were all nausea inducing to him, he still heard them, still recorded them and stored them away. There was very little that couldn't be used to an advantage, if one was aware enough to notice the opportunities. And occasionally, a rumor would float by that actually caught his attention. Like what his father had mentioned to his mother in passing two nights ago. Something about Nevaeh Abernathy going to Beauxbatons this year.
Beauxbatons. Very curious. He wouldn't have guessed it, not with the way Nevaeh had ruled Arietem House the past few years. Who would fill her place, and command the hordes of adoring, ambitious little witches? Barsotti? Venator? That preachy, do-no-harm little ΕentΓΌrk? Victor's bet would have been on Priscilla. She had a combination of ambition, charisma, and sheer strength that surpassed the others, in his opinion. Though she'd never rule as unanimously as Nevaeh Abernathy, which brought him back to the line of thought that her transfer to Beauxbatons was very curious. He'd always steered clear of Nevaeh, more out of respect than fear. The Abernathy girl was a little too public with her power for Victor's taste. But now that she was gone... he was interested in hearing what Vance had to say about it.
And there his mind went again. The Abernathy rumor hadn't even been the reason for his sleepless night, but rather issues within his own family. His father had requested he deliver a sealed message to the Valaras, at their manor. Across the state. On the very same day he was to depart for his final year at Magus Grex. Of course Victor had been displeased with his father, but requests from Drakus Calza were not turned down lightly, least of all by Victor. He suspected his father thought he lacked ambition. Lacked the necessary drive to help his family. It probably had something to do with his placement in Vulpes House. He didn't doubt his son's abilities, or his intelligence, only his commitment. Victor aimed to put those fears to rest, whatever that meant.
So he'd delivered the letter, and whatever it entailed, to the Valara Manor. The Valaras had always been close friends and allies to the Calzas, and Victor was welcomed warmly, but he hadn't been able to stay, as he was of course now going to miss the boat. Hours later, he found himself being transported across to the island by that reeking oaf Herve Wicks. After unceremoniously dumping his things in his quarters, and assuring the good caretaker that he'd go straight to bed, Victor proceeded to remain awake, and ponder his future.
He found himself now wandering in the direction of the Great Hall, one silent footstep after another. Victor had long since become adept at moving silently, even without the help of magic. He was a quiet person in more ways than the obvious. Power, plans, control, ideas, information, these were all things that were not meant to be shouted to the world. They lost much of their value that way. No enterprise is more likely to succeed than one concealed from the enemy until it is ripe for execution, said a wise man who Victor had studied thoroughly.
Something caught his eye in the Great Hall. Movement. A head looking up towards the heavens, and then back down to record. Victor found his lips curling into a genuine smile. There was only one person that could be, at this hour. He wasn't sure if Teiver saw him enter, or if she was just ignoring him. It crossed his mind that she could be angry with him for not being around the castle last night, leaving her to deal with all the idiots by her lonesome. Garrison certainly saw him. The cat was a sharp one. Still, he made his way quietly over to her, sat down on the bench, and gazed up at the stars. It was really quite gorgeous. He'd never really payed attention to Astronomy any more than was necessary before he met Teiver, but now he had to admit it was one of his favorite subjects. She'd opened his eyes to quite a few things, in fact.
"So I was thinking about trying out for the Quodpot team this year," he said, calmly and quietly as he always did, but with the slightest hint of a smirk.