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Post by Barnak Pengryffin on Jan 27, 2007 22:27:12 GMT 10
It had been a while since Barnak Pengryffin had been to the office of Lord Ruberagon.
The first time, not so long ago as a year, he had been led there by his father, who was on business to the school and had decided that his son should be introduced to his future head of house. The two adults had apparently known each other during their own time at school, but from the suspicious look of cold appraisal the man had given him, Barnak wasn't so sure that it would count for anything. He had no idea what to expect.
He rounded a corner, his eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light, and recognised the office door in the corridor just ahead. It was open. Barnak slowed, shrank back against the wall, and stepped lightly toward the open doorway. As he approached, the muffled sound of voices drifted to his ears.
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Post by Lord Rubeus Ruberagon I on Jan 28, 2007 7:20:36 GMT 10
“By the time you all finish the students will have been sorted and will probably be ready to go home for Spring break,” Professor Rubeus Ruberagon snapped as house elves darted around his office.
“It’s a rather big job, sir,” one of the house elves told him without stopping what it was doing. It was carrying a large pile of books all at once, and while they were slower then he would have liked, he could not fault their talents.
Glaring at the creature demonstrating his anger over its audacity to address him Professor Ruberagon thought he might let that one slip just this once. He despised the little creatures, he despised the way they appeared to feel they had the right to judge the way he kept his office, House Elves were to be seen and not heard, in some cases, not even seen. They were doing a good job however. His office had been in an order only he understood, but it was in order nonetheless. He was sitting behind his desk looking imperiously at the house elves that, though annoying, could not be faulted on their own organising system. They were putting things in positions that made sense and looked clean all the same.
“Term doesn’t start for another hour, I suppose I should be-,” he continued grumbling though held it when he realised there were only house elves in the room. He didn’t need to talk to them, why should they know what he was planning to do with the remainder of his day. Falling silent he heard something else in his doorway, looking through it he could see a boy lurking on the other side, “Skulking about is not a habit I would suggest getting into Mr Pengryffin,”
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Post by Barnak Pengryffin on Jan 29, 2007 21:31:47 GMT 10
Barnak started at being so suddenly addressed, and took a moment to compose himself before he stepped out of the shadows. He heard his father's voice in his head, telling him to stand upright, pull his shoulders back, feet together, hands by his sides, act like a child of his blood should act...
He stepped into the circle of light in the Professor's doorway and met the man's eyes with all the pride and courage he could muster. If he even noticed the little elves working busily in the background, he didn't show it. Elves were merely servants. Acknowledging their presence would have been an embarrassment.
"Sir," he began. "I have been sorted into house Ruberagon, and thought it appropriate to notify you before taking my quarters, given your absence at the ceremony."
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Post by Lord Rubeus Ruberagon I on Jan 30, 2007 7:12:57 GMT 10
Lord Ruberagon swore inwardly, not verbally, when he heard the child’s mention of him not being at the ceremony. He’d not realised he had been in his office so long, but the grandfather clock standing by the door began to chime eleven o’clock. How could he have lost track of time, and with no other excuse then that he had been cleaning his office.
“I see,” he said, sounding a little disappointed and not bothering to translate why this might be. He kept his eyes on the child, his mind penetrating the juvenile mind. Understanding Occlumency was not even a part of the boy’s vocabulary. Truth being told this is how Lord Ruberagon knew who this boy was. He didn’t take much notice in children introduced to him by people he knew. He was a teacher first and foremost, of course, but children were of little importance to him until they were minds he had the right to model.
“Very well, are you lost on your way to the common room then, child? Or is there something I can further assist you with now that we both know one another?” it was perhaps a little blunt, though it was adequate for his mood. He was still somewhat angry with himself for missing the sorting ceremony.
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Post by Barnak Pengryffin on Jan 31, 2007 22:40:56 GMT 10
Barnak flinched at being called 'child'. His shoulders slumped a little and he hoped that the inward roll of his eyes had not been outwardly noticable. He was accustomed to being quickly dismissed, but only by his father, and he had less expected it here, certainly not by his new head of house. Things were going to be different at this school, he had assured himself. He would have more respect here. He frowned unconsciously. He would make sure of it.
His thoughts snapped back to the present and to the Professor who seemed to be waiting for some sort of reply. Barnak blinked and the Professor's words from moments ago came back to him.
"Ah, no sir, not lost, just..." Barnak glanced over the Professor's shoulder - in as much as a small boy is able to see over the shoulder of an adult - and noticed that his entire office seemed to be moving from one place to another, shuffling around in the dim candlelight: "...curious." His eyes wandered across the many books and papers; a lifetime's collection, he supposed; and back to the Professor's.
"Actually... I was wondering when the school quidditch season begins. Perhaps you could tell me who our house captain is, so that I may enquire to them about trials instead of bothering you further. You are obviously... busy."
He grimaced the moment he had said it. 'Great job, Pen,' he chided himself. 'Want to get knocked on your arse on day one? Going about it the right way. Try to hold your tongue for once, at least until you find someone smaller than you are!'
Barnak peeled his eyes back open quickly and hoped the missed beat would go unnoticed as he added; "Unless you could use an extra wand here?"
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Post by Lord Rubeus Ruberagon I on Feb 1, 2007 6:38:51 GMT 10
“When you are grown, young man, you too will understand that there is never a moment you should be anything but busy,” Lord Ruberagon spoke, he did not aim for his words to appear harsh or displeased, but that was commonly the way they usually sounded. He maintained eye contact with the boy as he spoke; it became apparent quite obviously that he had struck a chord with the child. “A moment idle is a moment wasted, there are too many things to do in this world to waste a moment doing none of it,”
“Don’t even considering lifting your wand for cleaning boy, that is beneath even you,” again he scarcely realised how harsh or possibly insulting this line might be, though he did wish to express his agitation over such a ludicrous idea as having one of his house - a first year student moreover;- cleaning his office. If we were to do it there would be no place in society for House Elves, and we must consider their rights to be servants after all,”
He considered for a moment how the boy seemed to think Professor Ruberagon could, in some way, play the part of the Ruberagon House noticeboard, and for a moment he had considered telling the boy exactly what he could do with his request for information regarding the Ruberagon Quidditch team. Considering this a split second longer he decided that child deserved this chance. “Each year,” he said coming to sit behind his desk, he gestured to an empty space and a chair was created from nothing appearing quite comfortable and sturdy. “Each year the Ruberagon Quidditch team is chosen through a series of flying tests set by the team captain, apart from the Captain of the team, no other member of the house knows if they will make the team,”
He considered the boy for a moment in silent recognition before continuing, “Considering you are from Magical Heritage I would expect it possible that you have flown before, however, as a first year we generally do not allow your grade to participate in these trials, however,” he said bringing his voice a little lower as if the two of them were alone and his next few words were not to be shared, “If you believe you have skill enough for the Ruberagon Quidditch team and will not be wasting my recommendation, a trial with the captain can be arranged,”
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Post by Barnak Pengryffin on Feb 3, 2007 20:54:45 GMT 10
Barnak moved to the chair as immediately as it appeared, wading through the stacks of books and papers and not acknowledging for all the world that any other living beings were even in the room. He perched on the edge of the offered seat and watched the professor, listening to his words carefully, drinking them up. He could fly, alright. If he could get nothing else right, he could fly. Since he'd been old enough to walk his father had let him carry his brooms, and then, on his tenth birthday, a gift he would never forget...
*
The fog swirled thickly around Barnak's feet as he hurried to keep up with his father. It was early, and he was bleary-eyed and tripping over his own toes, and he couldn't see more than a few feet around himself. He wanted to go home, even just back to the carriage to sleep, but fear pushed him on ahead - fear of losing that familiar dark figure to the fog and being left alone. The booted footsteps created a hollow echo when they hit the first plank of wood that indicated they had reached the marshes, and Barnak, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, almost ran into the back of him. He looked up into his father's eyes. There was a prolonged pause where Barnak could feel the fog filling his lungs, and then the man spoke:
"Come here, boy."
Barnak didn't think he could get any closer, so he shuffled his feet a bit in the mud and tried to look more awake. His father pulled something from beneath his heavy overcoat and thrust it toward him, into his hand. The weight of it felt good, and he stared at it dumbly, wondering if he should now take his father's coat and scarf so that he would be free to
"Wake up, boy. Can't be wasting your time daydreaming while you're flying. You've been shown what to do with it. Now prove it was worth my while showing you."
Barnak looked at his father with wide eyes, and then, in the manner of a child used to having things snatched away just as quickly as they're offered, he grasped the broom with both hands and perched on it as he had practised in secret so many times. He glanced back to his father. The man said nothing. Barnak tightened his grip and willed himself to be away from the Earth, high up in the skies... He leaned forward and felt his weight shift gently from his feet to his behind, the wind plastering his hair back and freezing his unprotected eyes as the broom carried him up into the fog.
His father shrank to a small black dot amidst the swirling white and disappeared. Barnak didn't care. He wasn't even looking.
*
Barnak looked at the Professor, struggling to keep his voice calm, and replied at once:
"I would most certainly appreciate such an arrangement being made, Sir."
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Post by Lord Rubeus Ruberagon I on Feb 5, 2007 9:38:45 GMT 10
Lord Ruberagon considered the boy for a moment and wondered if he detected a hint of vague thought cloak his eyes. He thought on this for a moment, wondering if the boy was completely whole of mind. Though he let this pass knowing the Rueragon sword would never have allowed such a student to be sorted into his house. He knew this of course because he had designed it so.
With a moments more silent consideration -
“Very well, consider it done,” Lord Ruberagon spoke as he looked away from the boy to a small dragon statue on his desk. He scribbled something in very fine ancent looking handwriting, rolled it up into a very tight little scroll and pushed it into the open mouth of the statue. The statue closed its mouth over the end of the scroll and its eyes flashed red for a moment before opening its empty mouth again waiting for something else. Its eyes returned to their normal blackened gaze.
“I am sure you will see Lucius some time over the next week where he will let you know when your trial is to take place,” he said with an hair of dismissing the boy. When he noticed the boy was seated though, he guessed he had better ask, just out of swiftly passing curiosity, “Is there anything else?”
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Post by Barnak Pengryffin on Feb 7, 2007 20:20:18 GMT 10
Barnak looked into the mouth of the little statue where the scroll had presently been. His first thought was one of intense curiosity - his greatest flaw: he wanted to follow it, to see where the message had gone. Before he was even aware of making a conscious decision his hand had tightly gripped the pocket where his wand rested and he reached out with his mind, eyes glazing over, imagining his spirit as a great fist reaching out toward the statue's mouth and beyond. A moment of blackness washed over him, a feeling like being swallowed whole, and then a hurried, rushing motion...
...and then he came back to himself, dazed and a little disappointed, though without being able to remember why. The hand gripping his wand relaxed and he blinked at Lord Ruberagon, quickly standing and giving the Professor a polite nod.
"No, Sir, thank you, very much." Having said this, Barnak turned his foot to take a step out from around the chair - or at least he thought he had. Unaware that he was standing perfectly still, he watched himself walk to the door, winding his way between the piles of books, feeling vaguely nautious. After a moment he blinked again and suddenly found himself at the door, looking back toward the chair. Very confused, and more than a little dizzy, Barnak decided that hurrying away somewhere dark and quiet was in order. He stumbled as stolidly as he could manage down the corridor, keeping himself as upright and noble as he was able, and headed toward the commons.
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