(1939-02-03) Gryffindor's Illegal Pillows: Part 2 of 3: The Fight
Details for Gryffindor's Illegal Pillows: Part 2 of 3: The Fight
Summary: …but then Garrett had to come in and ruin it all, with talk of house points, the use of familiar names, and deadly insults to the Great 28 Families. Some did not take well to this, and there may have been fists and pillows thrown about…
Date: 03 February, 1939
Location: Gryffindor Common Room
Related: This is Part 1 of a 4 part series. Links full series:
Part 1: Prologue
Part 2: The Fight
Part 3: Aftermath
Part 4: Epilogue

The big, round common room of Gryffindor Tower is full of squashy stuffed armchairs and couches upholstered in rich red fabric. Tables are placed in useful spots around the room and a bulletin board is up on one wall, where school notices, ads, lost posters, etc. can be posted. The wooden floors are covered by old Persian rugs and the walls are covered in burgundy wallpaper that depict various mystical animals in golden silhouettes. Illumination is provided by a large window that looks out onto the castle grounds and is supplemented by a fireplace that dominates one large section of the wall providing not only light but also warmth.

The impossibly incorrigible Garrett Wilifred Sykes, Esquire, storms into the Gryffindor common room like a tornado. His black student robes spin with a grand flourish as turns to take a seat in an empty chair adjacent to the fireplace. The crimson under fabric of the cloak flash vibrantly next to crackling flames before the settle coolly over his thin, boyish frame.
"The LION has arrived." Garrett roars his entrance with all the style he can summon. And his blue eyes sparkle with mischief. "Who doesn't deserve a career Angie?" Garrett's smile twists like a cobra. "You? In Quidditch? I know, I didn't want to say anything about you as a Chaser, but… The lion's out of the bag now!"

Well Angelus certainly doesn't have that problem. The smug smile that slips across his face shows confidence of his own abilities as he flicks his blue eyes to Ulysses again. "Then you've saved him from being humiliated later on. How thoughtful," Gel remarks seconds before his gaze is drawn away, landing on Garrett as he makes his grandiose entrance. A grin tugs at his mouth before Gel is letting out a chuckle. "Not very stealthy, are you?" He smirks. "How are things, Sykes?" A brow arches, and the youth slides a little in the sofa, head lifting as he uses his hand to shut his book. "Need something from the Star Chaser?"

"Sadly, I doubt I discouraged him at all," Lys responds, shifting to sit up fully in his seat now, despite the little Siamese on his lap. "Likely he'll see himself as a martyr to the cause, and grouse about it for a week." A chuckle escapes him…
…until the noise arrives. Oh Merlin's beard… the noise. Fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for just a moment, "He is to stealthy as dragons are to subtlety."

Variel comes down from the dorms, a length of black-trimmed red ribbon in his hand. He seems to be considering tying it to his wand for whatever reason…

"Haven't you heard, Angie?" Garrett smartly replies to Angelus' comment. "Stealth is a skill for those who have something to hide, or hide from… Star Chaser." A flippant hand snatches a comic book off a nearby table as fingers casually walk through pages of moving images. "However things are the usual, you know. Father wants to kiss old Grindie's buttocks, and everyone's out to shove Muggles over cliffs. Uninspired boredom ad naseum."
Garrett flips another page. "What about the Eibons? Are they still up to no good?" A stiff glance darts toward Ulysses. "Or do the Selwyns hold the monopoly on mischief these days?"

A smile cracks into a grin until he ends up laughing at Ulysses' comparison. "Some of us just can't be skilled at everything," Angelus says simply as he looks to the seventh year. "Hey, Weasley, what do you have there?" the youth pipes up curiously as he catches Variel, offering a salute style wave his way if he looks up. When Angelus returns his gaze to Garrett, he gives him an impatient look, releasing a heavy sigh as he taps his fingers against the cover of his book. "Please," he says with a smirk. "It's Gel." And pulls face exaggerating at the name 'Angie.' "Sounds about right," he says in agreement to the 'norm,' bobbing his head. "Oh, not me, certainly not me, I'm just reading a book." He shifts his eyes, smirking as he again rests his head in his hand. A hum escapes him, and he glances back to Garrett. "Why? Do you have something in mind?" A grin crosses his face.

"Mischief? Oh heavens… what has Elric done now?" That's Lys, quick to assume the question means something is wrong. A careful gaze goes to Variel as the others mention him, and he smiles. "Weasley," is offered to the young man.

"Have some respect, Sykes," Variel suggests firmly as he arrives. "Grindelwald is looking for the solutions to some big problems. Your father has the right idea backing him, even if sycophancy is going overboard." He returns Angelus' wave, the motion leaving his pendant gleaming a moment. "It's an idea. A competition, school-wide, if it takes off. Probably just duel clubmates, though. Hullo, Selwyn," comes his affable reply.

Angus walks in to the word 'Mischief'. And, automatically, "It wasnae me! There werenae any wutnesses! An' I didnae dae it, anyway!". A pause, "Whut didnae I dae?"

"Well, 'GEL', I do have immediate and pressing concerns to tend." Garrett tosses the comic book aside. "That is… IF these two glorious houses," The blue-eyed boy squints between Variel and Ulysses, "can stop pressing their lips to Grindlebutt's cheeks and help out their houses for once!"
Standing up the chair, he blows out his robe, so it billows with each dramatic gesture. He points to Angus and Angelus. "We need to work together, ALL OF US, in order to make those slithering snakes regret the day they were ever hatched." Garrett starts to back and forth across the fireplace, casting wild shadows across the walls with his steps. "How dare they have more points than US! We're Gryffindor. And they're embarrassing us. Either we get those points back, or get THEM back. I'm for either. But something has to be done."
Suddenly he stops. "I don't know. What do the Sacred 28 have to say about it? The honorable guides for all wizardom. Our role models in life. Uly, Vary? Don't you want to use that wealth of inherited pride to beat those SnakeHeads back into their holes?"

That was the wrong thing to say. The wrong name to use. To say that Lys' gaze goes murderous is to say that the sky is a shade of blue, "Sykes." His voice is still strong as he sets the cat to his side and stands up, "I will not repeat this. That name is not yours to use. Not if you wish to keep that pretty little nose of yours in any shape other than crushed, am I clear?" All other conversation? Ignored in that single moment.

Variel reacts more mildly, to say the least, but not at all pleasantly. "I don't care about House Points, Sykes. I'm more worried about the state of our world, about violent, underhanded zealots and what they might do next. The Snakeheads you're preaching against dragged my bleeding, cursed body from the burning wreckage of your relatives' ballroom. I don't care if you want to rally the house in pursuit of excellence but I've no patience for jealous, immature grudges. Leave me out of it and try to remember that its pronounced Grin, Dell, Wald."

Well Angelus can't help but let out a sigh of disappointment, slumping his shoulders and flopping in the sofa. He could do with tagging along on some fun, but he simply shrugs, tapping his fingers on the book in his lap. "Oh," says the youth on a sigh, lifting a hand in a wave even as a single brow arches. A spark flicks in his eyes at the mention of points and Slytherin, but Angelus decides to hold his tongue. And a good decision, too, because the youth plainly watches Ulysses strike out verbally at Garrett before his blue eyes flick onto Variel. Probably don't want a little third year saying anything, so he doesn't, and just gauges the situation. Though he does turn to look at Angus as he lets out a snicker. "No, you're safe, Macmillan."

"Are you clear?" Garrett starts to undo the robes draped over his shoulders. "You've clearly gone mad, Selwyn. Especially if you think that just because your family are a bunch of fat, old money-grubbing big shots that I'll stoop down and lick your precious little boots!" Sykes tosses his robe into the nearest chair, rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. He twirls a long white aspen wood wand in his hand.
"You're clear alright. Transparent! I can see through you, Selwyn. Lording over the rest of us. Well I won't have it!"
Garrett sneers. "You aren't head boy. You aren't even a prefect. You're nothing to brag about." Cold eyes dart toward Variel as he too sings Grindlecrap's praises. "And I'm not surprised to hear that WEASLEY sticking up for you. Spitting on the Sykes too, Vary? Ridiculous. How can you change the world when you can't even change your house points?"
The young Sykes taps his wand to his temple. "That's the problem with you two. Too much pureblood coursing through your stilted brains. You won't be of any help to GRIN-DELL-WALD when the time comes, if you're of no help to your school now." He looks to Angelus. "What sort of example are you setting for little Gelly-Beans over here? He'll get nightmares thinking of all the horrible things you've been saying. Instead you should focus on where you are and what you can do with what you have, right now. Where's your responsibility to Hogwarts?"
"Off worrying about explosions and the course of the world. You still have NEWTS to take jiminy sakes!"

Angus goes and seats himself on a table, "Och. Way I figure it, it isnae like we can change the wuruld. We jest have tae change oorsulves."

Make fun of his name. Fine. He'll just be pissed. He might lash out. But attack Ulysses' family? His line? That is simply to far. He doesn't stalk, he doesn't pose. In that moment he is simply running fists, aiming directly at a single goal… Garrett Sykes.

"For Jiminy Sakes!!" No sooner than the words leave Garrett's lips does a fist fly toward his mouth. It's Ulysses' fist. Garrett doesn't even have to think up an insult when he lifts his arms to brace the impact. He doesn't get the punch, he doesn't take a swing, he just stands there forcing himself against the older boy, struggling to both wrestle himself into a decent position and keep hold of his wand.
"What are you doing, you dumb goat!?" Garrett sputters a few words after the exchange.

An impatient sigh escapes Angelus as he rolls his eyes. If he were to say something, would they care to listen to a third year? Lifting his head from his hand coolly, he flips his book from his lap back onto the side table where his cloak and book strap are. He shifts in his seat, and turns to look at Variel, at his pendant, and letting out a sigh. "Sykes," Gel pipes up impatiently. But before he can warn his team mate to cool it, he's lifting his legs onto the cushions when Ulysses throws a punch. Immediately sliding himself up onto the armrest and jumping onto the floor behind, intending on getting out of the way of the two starting a fight even as he sighs. "This kind of thing wouldn't happen in the Slytherin commons." As he backs up to the common room exit, Angelus props it open before he hisses out. "Blimey! Is that Dumbledore on his way here?"

Angus launches himself at Ulysses. Unfortunately, whilst high velocity, he's low mass, and whilst he's dangling from Ulysses arm, it impedes him not at all!

Funny thing about pondering tying a ribbon to one's wand. Variel's specific reaction to the words of Garret might have initially gone unnoticed, but Considering his options means having both ribbon and wand in hand, and as the trio collide, the latter is put to use. "Oppugno," quoth the redhead, his tone flat and controlled. Immediately, the cushions on the nearest couch- all of them- fly off the couch and start beating Garret about the head and shoulders. This is simultaneously cathartic, makes it very hard to land any further punches, and makes it hard for Garret to do much of anything at all. It'll take a few moments for the cushions to stop- hopefully long enough for the fight to die down. Variel's expression is frigid. He isn't scowling. He isn't grimacing. His expression is flat and cold and honestly disconcerting, and his left hand opens and closes slowly around the ribbon.

"GOAT? GOAT!" Roars the seventh-year, as Lys pushes, and pushes, trying to get Garret backed up against something where his sheer size can be an advantage. All else is ignored, Angus swatted away with practically less than an afterthought, "You, talk of houses and pride? Your family… should be ashamed to have such a weak little speck of dust like you claim relation to it. Mocking families who were wounded at YOUR family's gala? Mocking MY family? You? You are so far buried in the mud that you couldn't possibly raise yourself high enough to lick my boot heel, Sykes."
And then… Pillows? He actually blinks, looking around. At first he looks to Garret, almost disgusted that the boy would resort to hiding behind pillows… but then, as they seem to be going AGAINST him, Ulysses simply pushes away, instead, grunting in disgust.

Angus hits a table on the way over, groans, and lies quietly

Pillows seem to lift from their chairs, cushions take flight and swarm Garrett Sykes while in the midst of his standoff with Ulysses Selwyn. The boy takes a thump to the head and a few heated words from the other heated Gryffindor before squeezing his wand and shouting, "Immobilus!"
…And then more pillows hit him over and over. However there is a helmet of protection around his head that gives him a moment of reprieve from the Variel's betrayal. "I guess Weasleys and Selwyns are tight as knots now." THUMP!!
"The both of you wouldn't know anything if all the books in the Hogwarts library fell out of the whomping willow and landed on your heads!" THUMP THUMMBPT!! "To blame MY family for all of this, your brains must be warped! You coward. I'll spit on your shoes and your face. Both your faces." THUMP WACK THUMP!
Garrett stands, beet red and humiliated by those damnable pillows. Every word he says is cut down by the ridiculous nature of Variel's jinx. "I wish Dumbledore WOULD see you make this common room a mockery. He'd have you out of here and into Grindlewald's arms in a second. IS THAT what you want?"

Angelus shrugs. It was worth a try. A smirk slips against his lips as he looks to Variel, his blue eyes flashing when he casts his spell. "Nice one, Weasley," he remarks. And then he turns to look back to the duo. "That's not how we're going to get points, fighting amongst our House." He lets out a heavy sigh as he rolls his eyes. His hands spread out in reaction as Angus is knocked back, a painful grimace and an, "Ooooh," escaped from the blonde haired third year. Gel leaves his spot from the entrance to head over to Angus without thought. "Are you alright, Macmillan?" he offers down a hand.

Angus isn't moving right now.

Ulysses… just grunts. "You are pathetic, Sykes." He frowns, looks over at Angus, and grunts, "I'll go find a prefect. Damn it. You weren't supposed to be hurt. Points be damned, we need to get him help." A finger goes to Garrett, every ounce of it a threat of further violence. "We're not over…" And thus, without so much as a further word from him, he moves to stalk out of the room.
Nell arrives from Gryffindor Girls Dormitory.

"A moment, Ulysses." Variel calls over as he starts to stomp away, moving over towards Angus, ignoring Garret's plight for the time being. He crouches and pats Angus' cheek and revive the boy, "Angus. How hurt are you?"

"Hey!" Angelus calls out over his shoulder when Angus doesn't respond. But it isn't needed, because Ulysses and Variel are apparently aware. So a soft breath escapes him and he steps away from his year mate, giving Variel room as he watches.

Angus 's eyes flick open at the spell, "Och, Duggie! If that's the best shot yehs goat, you're never gonnae win against me."

Garrett Sykes groans just as the pillows drop to the ground with a soft thud. "Using magic against Gryffindor students? What loyalty you Weasleys have." A deft hand brushes his shoulders clean of humiliation as he saunters over toward his robe. With a marvelous gesture he twirls the smooth black sheet over his head and across his shoulders, where it settles keenly on his young frame.
"THIS is why we're losing to the Slytherin. The sooner you graduate and get out your filthy stink out of this school, the sooner Gel and I can start fixing the mess you've left behind." Garrett snorts!
"With pure-blood friends like you, who needs enemies? The wizarding world is DOOMED with fools like you running about, swinging your wands at any shadow that frightens you. Grindelwald have you! I'm sure you'll only drive his political aspirations right into the river."
The angry child coolly saunters over toward a cushionless chair. Spying the pillow on the ground, he slams his heels atop of it to keep it in its place. "I have half a mind to write the headmaster about this. But we'll settle it on the dueling stage!"

Nell skips into the common room from the direction of the girls dormitory, her smile swiftly fading as she slows to survey the scene unfolding. She squints, gaze shifting from Variel to Angus, then from Garrett. "Everything okay?" she asks in a small voice, her eyes reflecting unspoken questions.

Ulysses stops just before the door out. Seeing that Angus is successfully rennervated, he offers a slight sigh of relief. Garrett, though, gets a roll of the eyes now, "Pathetic, and a dramatic child." He looks to Variel, shakes his head, and continues out the door.

Angus gives a bit of a groan and gets up. "I'm _fine_, Quine!" It seems to be an answer to Nell's question. "Gonnae go have a wee lie doon. Then Ah'll be back tae kick yehs both in the erse!"

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