| Details for Little Lion Man |
| Summary: | Students gather to make use of the Charmitorium and Billy stands up to an older Slytherin. |
| Date: | June 16th, 1941 |
| Location: | Charmitorium, Hogwarts Castle |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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When word came down that the Charmitorium was to be opened up — under Staff supervision, of course — Anson was one of the first to arrive. He comes swaggering in, taking in the shape and lay-out of the room today. There are quite a few minor obstacles laid out throughout the room, and spongy areas of floor where a student might safely fall if he or she fails to navigate the course. Today, the semi-animate room seems to be interested in testing agility and creativity.
There is even a water obstacle, that will require students to summon various pieces of wood to get across. Anson eyes that particular piece with satisfaction, turning to grin at any other students present. "We'll have to work as a team to get across some of these," he says cheerfully.
"Or to drop him on his backside in the water…" murmurs Morrow, sotto voce, from where she already stands with a few Ravenclaws and some other friends. Well, of course Anson comes bumbling in, expecting everyone to need his help. And yes, he might admittedly have some superior skills in the athletic realm. But when it comes to logic and problem solving? Witch, please. There are several blue-and-bronze trimmed uniforms here, just waiting to prove that brains triumph over brawn.
With Professor Viridian wafting about in the background, offering helpful advice to a group of First and Second years as they try to untangle a web of ropes, the remainder of the students gathered naturally drift into their own huddles and cliques. Morrow, of course, just waits for people to come to her. Why wouldn't they, after all? The brunette casts a perfectly pleasant smile toward the Gryffindor jock, before shifting her attention to a housemate that approaches and starts a discussion about how best to traverse the nearest obstacle.
Enter young Billy Marlowe, Gryffindor and Chaser for the season. He is dressed today in a set of second hand Hogwarts robes that are noticeably a few inches shy of his ankles due to a recent growth spurt, but if his meager family wallet puts a damper on his spirits, it cannot be seen in the smile on his face or the confident swagger with which the young lad carries himself. His eyes glance around the Charmitorium as he enters and upon spotting Anson he lifts a hand in greeting as he ambles over and offers an enthusiastic, "Hey Anson! What's up?" He casts a look around as he chats up the Gryffindor as if to say, "See, I'm friends with older students. I'm awesome."
"'lo, Morrow." Anson's voice is deliberately casual as he passes her, heading toward that first obstacle — a sharp ascent required to reach its bridge. "I don't suppose you'd want to work together, eh?" As though the Ravenclaw would be any use at all in Anson's brawny approach to obstacles. He grins at Billy, then glances around at the other, younger, students. After all, the boy wants to be included with the cool kids. Anson decides to oblige. "'lo, Billy! Hey, come over here and work with me. We're going to have to try an ascending charm on this first one, I think."
He glances smugly aside at Morrow. See? He has lackeys too. The big Gryffindor draws out his wand and ostentatiously limbers up his wrist — various fantastical twists and turns, pointing the thing in all directions, though careful to keep its tip from any of the other students. There. All limbered up, it appears. "I'm going to give it a go," he says.
Oh yes, whoop whoop, bring on the dancing girls, Anson has a lackey. A lttle Muggleborn lackey. Positively terrifying. Still, Morrow keeps these uncharitable thoughts to herself, save for a sardonic twist of her lips in return to the Quidditch-jock's airy greeting. That's all he's getting; hello, she's in conversation here. With her focus returning to the discussion surrounding her, a contemplative expression seizing her features, the pretty brunette nods a touch in assent to whatever scheme her fellows have been conjuring. But first things first - let's see how the Gryffindors fare. And, hopefully, get a cheap laugh out of it.
"Ohh, that's not what I would do, Abbott." she calls up to him, ever so helpfully, as she drifts subtly away from the group that has grown around her presence. Folding her arms comfortably across her midsection, she watches the 'golden boy', her vivid blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Well, what fun is competition if you can't be a little unsporting every now and then?
"Ow, hey!"
The sound of an unfortunate Third Year's protest precedes the arrival of Oberon Lestrange, favored son of Hogwarts's own Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. The tall Slytherin steps into the room wearing a cocky smirk, eyeing the gathered students like a predator looking for the weak point in the herd. But when his eyes fall upon Professor Viridian, his smirk fades a bit. He gives the formiddable Charms teacher a nod and turns his attention elsewhere. Ah, Gryffindors showing off, and a gaggle of sycophants surrounding that Ravenclaw, Morrow Selwyn. Oberon meanders toward the group, unceremoniously elbowing a few of Morrow's worshippers out of the way. "Hey, Selwyn. Two Sickles says your boyfriend ends up on his arse."
Billy doesn't seem to notice the cocky way in which Anson welcomes him to his team, even though they ARE real teammates! He shrugs his shoulders as he moves over to join the older student at the obstacle and gazes up the wall with a dubious expression upon his young features. He glances toward Morrow as she speaks and his brow furrows more, after all she is a Ravenclaw. They are supposed to be good at these things. He looks back at the obstacle and spotting a small wooden pallet large enough to stand on leaned against the wall, crosses to it and drags it over to lay before the obstacle. Drawing out his wand, Billy flourishes it in the air and points it at the pallet and intones, "Perfusorius!"
"You won't fake me out again, Morrow. I know it's the right call." Is it? Or perhaps Anson is simply unwilling to back off, once he's taken a position. He rolls his wrist again, preparing to cast, but is suddenly cast into a bit of disarray by Oberon's arrival and wager. He frowns, opens his mouth to speak, lingers on the verge of a proclamation, and decides against it. Gryffindors don't need to brag. Anson never brags, right? He'll just show he's good. It's certainly not because he's wary of Oberon.
He returns his attention to the wall, and to his spell. Billy has done something very clever with the pieces of wood — he notices it out of the corner of his eyes — but he's decided on the direct approach, and for him, it must be the direct approach indeed.
"Ascendio!" He shoots upward five feet and — and stalls! Flailing suddenly, his arms coming up, he manages to get them onto the edge of the wall and begins to struggle upward, bit by bit pulling himself over the ledge. It's by no means elegant, and he seems to be having trouble swinging his leg up and
"I thought he was your boyfriend." Unperturbed, Morrow only eventually turns her gaze from Anson and his efforts to regard Oberon Lestrange, a cool half-smile playing across her lips. "But you're on. I'd rather it was his face, after all." If the Slytherin's looking for a weak member of the herd to toy with, he best look elsewhere. Morrow's a wolf in.. well, maybe fox's clothing. And his presence doesn't ruffle her in the slightest, even if some of her hangers-on are grumbling and eyeing the older boy with dislike.
Returning her attention to the Gryffindors as they flex their often sorely underused academic muscles, the girl shakes back her dark hair and this time casts her encouraging commentary toward the younger of the pair. "Careful, now. Don't want to end up in the infirmary, do we." It might almost pass for genuine concern for the young'un.. if she didn't look so enormously entertained.
The expression of amused curiosity becomes a snicker of amusement as Anson just barely makes the wall, one hand rising to demurely cover her mouth.
Oberon grins at Morrow. "That's a wager I'd be willing to lose." He casts his eyes up to Anson, and bursts into laughter at the struggling Gryffindor. "Hey, Abbott! You're twice as graceful in here as you are on the pitch!" He shakes his head, tutting as if disappointed. "Our wager might be settled sooner than I'd hoped."
Billy steps up onto his pallet about the same time that Anson casts his Ascending Charm and he winces as the older boy stalls, ready to leap out of the way if Anson were to fall. If he is a lackey, is only too willing to step out of the way and let the older student fall on anything BUT him. As the older lad manages to catch the wall, Billy directs his wand toward his pallet and calls, "Wingardium Leviosa!" …. and exactly nothin happens. He glances around with only a slight flush at his disappointing failure. Looking back as Morrow offers her kind warning, Billy scowls and says, "Shut up! I don't see you doing anything other than standing around making fun of everyone. Easy to act superior when you aren't the one trying!"
Phew. He made the wall. That was harder than expected. Anson takes a few moments to compose himself before calling over to Oberon, "From what I hear, the only broomstick you sit comfortably is the one shoved up your…robes." He's grinning, apparently rather proud of himself for his comeback. "It's alright, Billy. Don't let her rattle you. Here, I'll give you a hand. With the two of us.."
He points down at the featherlight pallet. "Wingardium Leviosa!" And indeed, the pallet does rattle — as though it wants to come off the ground. But the weight bearing it down is just too much, and with a final creak of wood, it subsides. "..Drat. Do you want to jump for it? I'll try to grab you.." Typical Gryffindor. Brute force solution.
The Muggleborn is rewarded with a feline glance of condescension from the dark-haired Ravenclaw, though the look thaws after a beat or two, replaced with a slow-burning smile. "I've no need to act. Now concentrate on your Charm, not what's going on around you." That actually is quite sound advice. Though, to a boy with a bruised ego, it might be simply pouring salt in the proverbial wound. As for Oberon, she flits the Slytherin an answering smirk sidelong… but they're both left disappointed, thus far, as Anson makes his rather undignified scramble up onto the wall. And then starts with the comebacks! Brave, or foolish? Always so hard to tell, with this House.
Oberon barks a laught back at Anson. "You just keep thinking that while they're handing Slytherin the Quidditch Cup." At the failed attempts to move the pallette, Oberon offers a slow clap. "Well done, Gryffindor. Well done." Muttering more quietly (lest a certain professor overhear), he adds with a glance to Morrow, "It figures the mudblood wouuld bollix this up, but really, I'd expect a bit more from Abbott."
Billy seems about to answer Anson when the familiar sounds of the word 'mudblood' float across the short space to his ears. Eyes narrowing, Billy turns and steps off his pallet and marches across the short distance right up to the older Lestrange and says, "Mudblood, eh?" He glares sideways to Morrow and then returns his eyes upward to Oberon's. "Tell you what, Lestrange. You go get your broomstick, and I'll go get mine. We'll go down to the Quidditch Pitch and let a bludger loose and have a good old fashioned Beater's contest. First one unseated from their broomstick loses." He even grins, a perhaps comical sight from the much smaller boy as he taunts the older Slytherin. "My blood may be as muddy as the ground after a five day shower, but it isn't yellow. How about yours Lestrange?"
Anson sees the tension erupting between Oberon and Billy, and it doesn't take a Ravenclaw to see what has occurred. One cannot leave a teammate in a clinch, and he takes action instantly. He steps out into the air, off the wall, pointing his wand at the ground. "Descendo." From his expression, he fully expects the spell to succeed and ease him downward. But, for whatever reason, it does not. His expression changes from confident assurance to pure horror as he plummets the ten feet and splashes into the ground, smacking his nose hard into the floor. Even with its squishiness, there is blood. "Unnnnngh." And so it is that the Great Gryffindor Hope is led off by several of his friends, leaving Billy to face off against Oberon alone.
"Brains.." Morrow likewise flicks a glance about herself and Oberon, her dark hair serving as something of a veil as she turns and whispers the next few words in a conspiratorial manner. "…and breeding…/" She rights her posture again smoothly, tucking her tresses back behind her ear with one hand, as if the subtle interjection had never occurred. "..over brawn. Some people simply refuse to acknowledge their downfalls." And then suddenly, hell hath no fury like a tiny Gruffindor scorned! Arching her brows, affecting an expression of bemused enquiry, the brunette regards Billy levelly as he marches over. Merlin's beard, she didn't use the phrase! And so says her utterly innocent blink of long lashes. Parting her lips, she seems about to make that very point. But distraction comes in the form of a rush of air, followed by a very audible *THUD* from behind the younger lad, drawing her crystalline eyes that way. Wordlessly, she raises a hand, palm upward, toward Oberon.
For a moment, Oberon is caught completely off guard by the spunky young Billy. Who would expect this? But at the challenge, the cocky Slytherin's lips curl into a broad smile, giving way to a bout of laughter. "Mother of Merlin! I'll give this kid one thing, he's got the stones of a troll…to match his brains." Chuckling, quickly disregarding the Third Year, he digs into his pocket, fishing out two Sickles, and deposits them into Morrow's waiting palm. "You called it, Selwyn."
Billy casts a glance over his shoulder as he hears Anson fall, but seeing his housemates helping the older boy out of the room, the young Marlowe has bigger fish to fry. He turns back to Oberon and his lip curls in disgust as he shakes his head. "That's what I thought. All talk and no action. I may be muggle born, but you are the biggest coward I have ever seen. What do you have to lose, thickhead? I'm just a little third year, right? You should be able to crush me with your pure blooded superiority! But you won't, and cant." He states that last bit as fact, confidence seeming to inflate the little lad as he says, "All you are brave enough to do is stand and talk, and hide behind your words."
Grinning broadly, the Ravenclaw pockets the coins, with a cheerful, "Thank you." to boot. A bet's a bet, after all. And then her gaze drifts back toward the furious boy in front of them, taking him in more consideringly with a down-up flit of her eyes. Intervene, or let the little lion continue to bait a Sixth Year Slytherin with a reputation for cruelty? Decisions, decisions… Well, it's not just the Gryffindor she's interested in gauging. Looking aside to Oberon, Morrow arches a slender brow; managing to convey wry amusement as well as subtle question in her expression. Ever the actress, despite her assurances to the contrary. Is he going to tolerate being spoken to like that, even if Viridian is floating about somewhere in the hall? Never a dull moment in the Charmitorium, is there.
Oberon snorts loudly, stifling further laughter at this Third Year puffing up at a Sixth Year. "Go play with your toys, kid. Don't go thinking you even have the right to speak to me. If you had even a sliver of-…" Whatever barb he had ready to strike the lad with, it goes unspoken as he stands upright, looking over Billy's head at the glowering countenance of Vindictus Viridian. "Sir," he says with a nod and a hint of a smirk.
Billy shrugs his shoulders and mouths, "Coward," directly at Oberon, before he turns and nods his head to Veridian and says respectfully, "Professor. Thank you for opening the Charmitorium so that we could practice."
Oh dear. There's really not a specific age-range when it comes to boys and their posturing, is there? Having maintained her position as 'innocent bystander' throughout the almost-confrontation, Morrow raises her eyes unabashedly to the Professor, offering him a winning smile. "Afternoon, Sir. Splendid robes.." Her vibrant blue eyes take in the voluminous, colourful ensemble with the seemingly genuine admiration one could only find in someone with a trained eye. Or a knack for diversion. "Twilfitt and Tattings?" She doesn't bat an eyelash at Billy's parting shot - it's not directed at her, at the end of the day. And besides, he's the only one who's actually been flinging insults. How kind of her not to draw attention to it.
Pushing her hair back with a rake of one hand, the Ravenclaw turns her attention toward her friends and hangers-on nearby. "Getting a little crowded, isn't it. Would you like me to fetch a prefect or two to assist you, Professor?" And again with the thoughtfulness! What's such a nice young lady doing standing with this Lestrange? Aside from relieving him of a few sickles, that is.
Viridian gives a mild harumph to Billy for that parting shot, but it's Oberon that gets the dagger-eyed glare.
The Slytherin stares right back at Viridian—ostensibly with quiet respect, but nobody looks into that harsh gaze without a glimmer of fear. Still, being the son of another prominent professor has its perks, and Oberon endures. "Yes, thank you, sir. It's been a real education." His eyes flicker to where Anson fell. Once the professor moves off, his gaze turns to Billy, darkening at the younger student with a silent promise of future reprisals.
Billy shrugs his shoulders and says quietly to Oberon so that only the Slytherin and Morrow might hear, "You have your chance. But I suppose that I am not surprised that given the chance of a fair fight, you are a little lacking in courage. I would dare say most of your kind are." The little Gryffindor is giving a good showing in face of the older Slytherin and his reputation, whether he be brave or quite foolish.
In a different corner of the Charmitorium Gabriel has been quietly practicing the Reviving Spell on a beetle he keeps stunning and recovering. And gritting his teeth, very pointedly ignoring the argument, since the 4th year Ravenclaw has been dedicating this year to controlling his temper as well. Especially hard in this case since Oberon is one of his regular triggers. Finally he gives in a bit and switches from the Reviving Spell to casting Canon Curses at a dummy, turning his head over his shoulder to take a quick glance at Oberon before casting the first one.
Perhaps Billy spoke too quietly, because Oberon seems not to have heard a word. His attention is on Morrow, instead. "I've had enough laughs. This place has gotten ridiculous. See you around, Selwyn." He gives the Ravenclaw girl a wink as he turns away to head for the door. Before he leaves, he does spare a glance for Billy, giving him a mirthless smile before disappearing from view.
Now that the Professor has wafted off to another part of the hall again - how does he time these things so well? - Morrow settles back to flicking her gaze between the two boys. Oberon's actually keeping his temper rather admirably… which is more than can be said for poor, slighted Billy. "That's enough now." she admonishes, albeit quite gently. "..you've more important things to be concerning yourself with, little lion, than trying to pick fights." Raising her head, the brunette casts her gaze over the hall, intercepting the glance from the other Ravenclaw over there. Her expression clears ever so slightly and she offers Gabriel a smile, recognising the boy from the year below. "..if you want to practice that Charm, why don't you ask Gabe?" For her own reasons, the Queen Bee is ushering the younger lad away before he pushes his luck any further. Maybe there is a heart in there after all. And with that very obvious path laid out, she turns more fully to face a few of her peers nearby, apparently done with the whole thing. Several of the girls immediately start questioning her about the Slytherin; though none are quite brave enough to tease.
Gabriel stop his own practice for a moment as he hears his name. Turning around he nods at Morrow's smile, smiling in return before shifting his attention to Billy, "What are you working on?"
Billy smiles back at Oberon as he exits, and then turns eyes on Morrow as she speaks. He gives her a slightly scathing look as he says, "I don't need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself, thanks. I am not worried about Oberon Lestrange, or any of the other people here that think their blood superior to mine. I have been around magic my entire life, whether or not my parents were magic or not. So thanks, but no thanks Morrow Selwyn." He gives her a suspicious look, as if he suspects that there is more behind her concern for him than what she is revealing.
Upon seeing Gabriel, though, the Gryffindor does move over toward the other lad and he says, "Hello Gabriel. Good season this year. I am sorry we put you out for the Cup, but who would have thought Josie would have caught the snitch that soon." The Gryffindor does actually seem apologetic for Gryffindor's win. "I wanted you guys to win the cup, not Slytherin."