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◆ year, six ◆ patronus, grizzly bear ◆ house, slytherin ◆ crush, elle ◆ location, great hall ◆ tagged, elle, clarke, sarah
Oscar awoke to vicious knocking on a window by his bed. Green, eerie light filtered into the dormitory from the lake. Not many people were aware of the interesting geography of the Slytherin common room and dormitories, but they were in the dungeon, underneath the Black Lake, and their windows opened to the body of water itself. Sometimes, if you were quiet and had the patience to stare long and hard at one of the glass panes, you could see a mermaid, or a giant squid, flash by, a ripple of silver scales and fangs. There were strange fish in the pond, too, and over his six years at Hogwarts Oscar had gotten to know most of them pretty well. There were rainbow fish and glowing fish, large ones and small ones, fast ones and slow ones. Fanged and gummed. Personally, the dark haired boy believed that the Slytherin common room must be by far the most interesting of all the houses; after all, which others offered a myriad of mystical experiences to be witnessed, right out your bedroom window? Of course, there were dreary days when he longed wistfully for sunlight, as he did his potions homework or played cards with his friends. But he could always take a walk around the grounds, so for the most part, he was content.
Of course, except for days like these. Saturdays were one of the rare mornings he was able to sleep in, presuming no one snored too loudly to threw a pillow at him, or got into a scuffle by his bedside. Oscar was a light sleeper though, and things tended to happen. Today, it was the lake. Specifically, the mermaids within the lake, tapping on his window pane, making faces at the boys whom they woke up. Most of them groaned and turned over, or slammed their pillows on top of their heads, and tried to get some shut eye because heaven knows they had to wake up early every other day of the week. But the window was right next to his bed, and what was he supposed to do? The beasts kept rapping on the glass, and though it was magically enchanted so never as to break (thank goodness!), that didn't stop the noise from filtering through. One mermaid stuck her tongue out at Oscar when he glared at her, her pointy teeth covered in grime. Oscar promptly gave her the bird, though he doubted she even knew or cared what it meant. He was already awake though, and the damage was done. The handsome youth could tell, just from the draft alone, it was a chilly day outside the castle. He mussed through his trunk at the end of his bed, a great black stone thing, with a silver lock and key. The key he kept in his pockets usually, along with his wand. Slytherin was full of snitches and cowards, and plenty of crooks, too.
Oscar didn't blame the kids for their faults, though he knew of plenty of boys who would have been happy enough to steal all his things from under him. Though he never voiced his opinions, he had always blamed everyone else. When you're an eleven year old kid, he theorized to himself during his moments of reflection (which were often), and you're sorted into a house that's supposed to be praising your cleverness and ambition and drive, and teaching you good qualities, but everyone around you just sneers at you for it, and calls you a craven and a dark wizard, says you're bound for nothing but unhappiness and evilness, and puts you down for who you are...how can they blame you when you give in to all the pressure, and turn out badly? Your whole life they tell kids they aren't good people, and then they praise themselves on their accuracy when their prophecies come true. Sometimes Oscar really detested the other Houses, because they looked down on them. They treated Slytherins as if they were a different breed. And maybe there were some kids who were a bit off kilter from the start, but to say every dark witch and wizard was bound to have been a Slytherin....well, it's not a good way to start the next seven years of your life.
Despite his sympathetic sentiments for his fellow Slytherins, he still put the silver key into his cloak pocket. Sympathies weren't the same thing as compliance. And he didn't want his clothes stolen.
While his fellow House mates were asleep, Oscar shimmied into his robes and jackets, a green and silver scarf thrown over his shoulder just in case his premonitions about the cold day were realized. After dressing he grabbed his wand off his dresser and shoved that too, in his pockets. He didn't even give a backwards glance as he left. He didn't care enough to. He knew he'd see exactly what he'd seen for six years. A bunch of boys in green and gray snoring, greenish black water undulating outside the window, a few cats tiptoeing around, and above all, the complacency of a House completely ensconced in itself. He felt as if he'd been living in the same place all his life, absolutely static, without change or growth. The boys he knew were the same boys from his childhood, unchanged, for the most part, in maturity or ideas. Their values were unchanged, passed down from their parents, passed down from their parents, on and on and on. Nothing ever changed. Oscar didn't have to look back at his dormitory. He knew what he would see. He would see copies of all these boys' great grandparents, sleeping in their beds, unchanged, despite the years.
It was too early for such dreary reflection, though. Oscar put aside his thoughts as he clamored out of the common room. He made a mental note to remember the password for the day as he passed the paper pinned to the wall. There was a list for the week next to the doorway, and today's was something equally as pompous and sly as yesterday's, and the day before's. As the wall behind him closed, he promptly forgot it. It didn't really phase him, though. He'd find out from Sarah later, anyway. There was a high possibility she was already in the Great Hall for breakfast and socializing, if the mermaids had woken her up, as well, and Oscar thought it would be a good idea to meet her there. Besides, like all teenage boys, magical or no, he was always hungry, and his stomach was an absolute black hole.
Oscar had to walk up the Grand Staircase to get from the dungeons to the Great Hall. On his way up he saw Clarke, whome he'd never talked to before, but knew, because he was a brother to Elle. That girl herself he'd never really much spoken with, but he'd spent a lot of time in her company, in classes and in sports. Once one of his friends in Ravenclaw had forced him to cheer with them for a quidditch match between the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. He'd shrugged and said, "sure, why not?" to the request in an easy manor, but was honestly excited for the chance to boo a Gryffindor. That prejudice of his House had not escaped him, during his years at Hogwarts. He'd been squished directly next to Elle for about two hours, and the whole time never said a word to her. He had cheered with his friend, and his dark eyes staid for the most part on the field, but, every so often, he couldn't help glancing at the golden girl. She had a different spark in her eyes than he'd seen in anyone else's before. The kids he knew were all cunning and slyness, all sex appeal and careless laughter, all independance and secrets. He didn't know Elle very well, but she didn't seem to have those qualities in her, or at least in dominance. She seemed--god forbid--actually complex. Most Slytherins were as easy to read as a book, once you understood their motives. That was a shock to him. His whole life Oscar had been restricted to his social contacts. His family, a rich, old, pure blood line, only associated with other rich, old, pure blood lines. And his house...well, most of them were of the same breed. And frankly, he was tired of it. At the end of the match, though he couldn't recall now who had won, he turned to the girl with such blazing eyes and gave a vague smile, though his own gaze was distracted. He must have looked like he was only half there. He hadn't even the mind to say anything, but for a moment just blinked at her, before being swallowed by the crowd of kids in blue and bronze. His friend and him had gone to the grounds afterwards and played around, same as always. Everything was the same as always, it seemed. Except, he hadn't always known her. He had asked his friend who she was, and he told him her name was Elle Fernne, she was in their year, and she had a step brother, Clarke. He'd been in a a class with the Hufflepuff, and had never formed much of an oppinion of him save that he was a Hufflepuff, so there was only really so much mental capacity he could have. They weren't known to be the brightest of folks. (On this note it could be stated what a hypocrite Oscar is. Yes, he knows he's a hypocrite, and he does try to better himself, but sometimes stereotypes get even to the best of us. He doesn't wan Slytherins to be profiled yet he has a natural predisposition against Hufflepuffs. He's just a kid though, and even if he is hard on himself, we should cut him some slack, for being only 16, and not as aware of all his faults as we are.)
In the Great Hall Oscar sat down towards the middle of the table, still keeping an eye out for Sarah. She may be hiding in the sea of green and silver, or she might still be asleep. Either way, Oscar grabbed a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk from the table and began to eat. He put aside thoughts of Elle and of Sarah, replacing them with only thoughts of FOOD. He was hungry, and all the complex thought that humans developed over the course of 50,000 years was lost on him as he devoured. Boys will be boys?
{I always write too much on my intro post, and it's mostly nonsense, anyway, so don't be weirded out. I was just rambling, and without any dialogue, too! I bet it's a bore to read! Sorry! <3}