1994-09-07: The Gift Of A Book


Siobhan_icon.gif Julian_icon.gif

Scene Title The Gift of a Book
Synopsis Julian prowls the castle and runs into Siobhan. She gives him a gift.
Date Sep 07, 1994
Chronology nuthin, really.
Logger Julian

Waiting Room

This room, which is quite small, is where all the First-Years come while they're waiting to be sorted. It is decorated in calming blues and greys, though very few Firsties actually feel calm while they're in here! There is, however, something to look at. A gilded frame on the wall holds a parchment that reads 'Hall of Fame'.

He's back on the prowl. Julian is trying, with every waking moment, to explore the whole castle. He's still on the first floor, which isn't surprising since it's still the first week of school. He steps into the small room, looking around and spots the goblet of fire. He's got no intention of trying to trick the thing, but simply sits there, gazing at it, intrigued that such a thing exists.

It's been an odd start to the term for Siobhan. Usually the light and life of the party, she's been strangely distant thusfar. She smiles and laughs and makes conversation at all the proper moments, but she's been…distracted; less likely to /look/ for social interaction and more prone to bouts of 'daydreaming'. So it is, then, that this evening she's wandering the castle on her own, strangely restless. Stepping into the small room, she either doesn't notice Julian or doesn't acknowledge him. For a long moment, the petite blonde stares at the pretty Cup, brown eyes narrowed. It's as if she's coming to a decision of sorts, and it's not a very hard guess just what that decision will be. After a time of utter stillness, she erupts into an almost violent motion, tossing a crumpled ball of paper into the flames. Then she is still again; watching it burn.

The Goblet of Fire burns brightly for a moment as the piece of parchment tossed into its flame disappears.

Julian watches the older student toss her name into the fire, not having witnessed it before. It's something worth remembering. When it burns brightly, Julian holds up his hands in front of his face in a reactionary gesture, inhaling quickly. He steps back against the wall with a soft 'thump', remaining quiet otherwise,.

That gasp and sudden movement catches Siobhan's eye where the boy's earlier stillness did not. Like the famed dervish of legend, she whirls on the smaller child, wand pulled from her sleeve and pointed at him offensively, even as her body crouches into a more defensible posture. For three heaving breaths, she stands thus. Then, with slow movements, her wand is stowed back into her robe and she starts to laugh, the ludicracy of the situation apparently catching up with her.

The girl's movements cause the small boy to steady himself and change his stance into a defensive position. He hasn't been in the magical world long enough to think about his wand yet. When he realizes this, he fumbles for it, until she starts laughing. Then, a scowl crosses his face, and he glares right up at her. Housemate or no. "Y'think it's funny?"

Falling back to sit on her arse — on the floor, no less — Siobhan continues to laugh until it's almost an hysterical sound. Only after a good four minutes does she find the presence of mind to calm herself. Both hands raise to wipe tears of mirth from her cheeks. "Oh, no, mate. I think it's /hilarious/." Her face, flush from the sudden bout of laughter, breaks into a bright and genuine smile as she stares up at her younger housemate. "I've been off in me own little world, I have, if I'm leapin' into full defense for a first-year." She leans up a little to examine him closer. "Oh yeah, you're one of ours, aren't you?" Ours being Slytherin and the question being Rhetorical. "Name's Siobhan Noble, but everyone calls me Sio." The contrast between the pronunciation of 'ShivOHN' and 'SEE-oh' could be confusing. Only one person to date has gotten the correlation, in fact.

"Nice to meet you," Julian bites out, slowly relaxing. "My name's Bean, but the teachers call me Mr. Legume." He still isn't sure why, as that's one of the few things that is fuzzy from that part of his life. "Yeah. I'm a member of Slytherin house." This last phrase is spoken with the clipped accents of many of their peers. In fact, some of the more snobbish. "Is that Irish?" He's heard enough weird accents and catalogued them that some of it stuck. "Your name, I mean."

"Yeah, 'tis." Settling herself into a more comfortable cross-legged position, Siobhan reveals a sliver of Muggle denims under her robe. Not quite your snobbish Slytherin pureblood, then. "M'mum always wanted a girl named Siobhan. Took her a few tries," and the joke is lost on someone outside the family. "But she ended up with me, so it stuck." She offers up her hand, perfectly willing to shake his from her position on the floor. "Nice ta meet you, Bean. Where're you from, then?"

"I lived in a small place off Tottenham Court Road." Bean's answer is full of sarcasm. "It wasn't much, and I think it got sold out from under me when I came here." In fact, he's pretty sure someone else stole his spot. Probably can name who. "What about you? You from the 'Green Isle' then?" He slips into a brogue fairly reminiscent of an Irishman. His buddy Eamon would be proud. He crosses his arms again, and watches the girl closely to attempt to predict what she'll do next.

Siobhan snorts and rolls her eyes. "Ooh yeah, and /I'm/ a right proper lady, I am." She affects for that sentence a rather obnoxious gutter-cockney accent in a rather obvious imitation of Pygmalion's heroine. Still, aside from that snide bit of humor, she doesn't question his answer. Instead, she rocks back and forth, rolling from her hip bones to her knees - while still cross-legged - and back again. "Nope," she grins, her more usual South London accent giving way to a pretty Scottish brogue. "From Balmorrow, I am. Born and raised." See, love? She can switch accents too.

Julian laughs lightly, enjoying the banter. "You're different, aren't you?" It's not an insult, more of a recognition of fact. "Some of the others are pompous…" He cuts off his sentence, a habitual glance around the room seeming to confirm their continued privacy. "You seem more like some of my friends." He smiles, a rare sight. "I like it here, mostly, but it's all so strange."

Slipping back into her usual London drawl, Siobhan grins and nods. "Different, yeah. Suppose you could say that. M'brother says I march to my own drummer, but I have not the first clue what he means by that." A shrug then and her gaze strays back to the cup that now holds her name. "He's going to eat me alive if he finds out I put my name in there, but there's nothin' for it now, is there?" She snorts then. "Don't be silly, they're all pompous arses." That grin widens. "But I do like them. We're not a bad lot if you give us half a chance, really." His final statement earns him a shrewd gaze, her warm brown eyes sizing him up quite efficiently. "Muggleborn then?"

"Dunno, do I?" Bean unconsciously mimics her diction. "I don't know my parents." He won't say any more. He's already said too much. "I just don't know anything about Hogwarts." Or the Wizarding world, but he carefully skirts around that. Different or not, it's not always obvious to see where someone's loyalties lie. "Your brother protective?" That's a bittersweet thought to the boy.

Perhaps tapping into that uncanny sense of intuition she seems to have with people, Siobhan doesn't press the issue. Still, she offers a bit of advice; only fair, him being so new. "I'd not pass around even that much, mate. S'much as I like 'em, there are more than a few of the Snakes what don't much care for that." Patting down her robes, she reaches into an inside pocket and pulls out a small book. A tap of her wand - which goes right back up her sleeve when it's done - and the thing becomes full sized. Hogwarts; A History. "This should help, but I've a few more at home that cover things on a broader scale if you need 'em." That said, she extends the book to Bean. "An' yeah. A bit over the top on it sometimes. It's nice to feel safe an' all, but bein' smothered's no good either."

Julian is learning that, slowly. Which is odd for someone who normally picks up on things. Maybe he's just good at knowing who to trust thus far. He reaches out and grabs the book. "Thank you, Siobhan," he whispers, extremely grateful, even for the loan. "I appreciate it. I'm not really sharing much with most people, but, like I say, you're different." And when this world is so strange, it's bound to stand out for a while. "Mmm." He acknowledges the comment about siblings, but has no frame of reference for it, so just lets it pass. "I'll get this back to you soon." In fact, he'll probably stop prowling a while to read it cover to cover.

Siobhan waves it off with her usual backhanded generosity. "Don't worry about it mate, I memorized most of it years back. Plus, I grew up with this stuff; keep it. Really." His whispered thanks is acknowledged only with a sunny smile, the kind that just somehow earns her friends - even in the strangest of places. Standing and brushing her robes down, she stretches once and stifles a yawn. "It was great meetin' you, Bean, but I've still got charts to do before bed. I'll see you around, yeah?"

Julian nods, somewhat abstractedly, as he's still running his fingers over the book. "I'll let you know if I need more…" He was just asking someone for a book to read. Now, he's got one. "Have a good evening." He belatedly remembers some manners he picked up somewhere. "I'm sure I will." He smiles, and stands up, hefting the large book — is it larger than he? He walks toward the door himself, heading back to the common room and the quiet darkness of his dorm.

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