addendum to part 1, because i'm like that.
This is, unfortunately, what writing off the cuff sometimes gets you. I kept going back and forth on whether there needed to be some more scenes between Connor heading away from his "landing sight" and the scene cutting right into middle of his going towards Potions class with Hermione, and my brain said, no, but my hands said, yes. Or something.
This has a title, now, which means we're in for a penny, in for a buck, I suppose. I think I'm making this more complicated than I need to, but I hope I'll be able to do it right, so forward, ho!
Connor heads North, eventually coming up to a stone wall. It's too tall for him to see what's on the other side, so he tries to jump over it. And fails. He looks down at his feet, at the worn out sneakers, the loose gathering of threads that are serving for shoelaces, the soles curled away from the rest of the shoe. He takes another crack at jumping the wall, knees bent this time, hands up. Manages to catch the top of the wall with his fingertips and gets a streak of bloody scratchmarks along the pads of his fingers for his trouble. When he lands back on the grass, he falters, one of his ankles turning a few degrees in the wrong direction before he rights himself again. His legs rattle.
He looks down at the blood, spots of it pooling into tiny circles against his skin. When he passes his thumbnail over the marks, a prick of pain shoots up from his hand to the base of his skull. His heart starts kicking up, stomping against his ribcage in a rhythm that's too fast. He could really be in trouble here.
Connor shakes himself loose, the moment over in an instant. He presses a fist against the wall, dragging his knuckles along the the sharp bumps until he's leaving tracks of red to dye the stone. So what if his powers are gone. He never wanted them in the first place.
*
After a while, he realizes that he's on a pathway; small, white pebbles shining in the sunlight, the path curving with the wall towards an entrance. The wall's lower here, just enough that he can make out a tower, maybe two. the points of them a darker blue than the sky. Three dozen more steps and the wall breaks open into an arched entrance. Connor stands there, one hand on the archway, lungs still cramped from the walk up the path. It's a castle. He knows about castles; Holtz used to tell him stories when he was kid, about princesses who were locked away to rot in their own filth in towers, servants whose hearts were ripped out of their chests by Kings with bad moods.
Connor turns around, practically running.
"Harry," a voice booms out. Connor doesn't bother to look over his shoulder.
"Harry, me boy. Ho! Hold up, there, lad!"
Connor spins on his heels, fists up near his face, ready. Then he staggers back, raising his gaze the extra four feet that's needed to meet the giant in the eyes.
"Well, a pixie'll grab on to your tongue, for sure, if you stand there with your mouth hanging open like that," the giant says. He sounds jovial enough. It doesn't keep Connor from taking a few more steps away. "Here," he thrusts a lump of dark fabric towards Connor. One of his fingers is the size of Connor's arm. "I found it in the stables, thought you might be looking for it."
"Oh," Connor says, taking the lump in both hands. "Thank you." His voice is funny, coming out in an unfamiliar accent.
"Don't even mention it," the giant says. "Can't have you getting into trouble just 'cause you've left your robes someplace. There's professors that don't take to that kind of thing, you know."
"Um, yes." Connor shakes the lump out.
"Now, me, for instance, I think that the uniform's a might bit - " the giant breaks off, fingers in his beard. "What am I doing, talking away and taking up your time? You'll be late for your next class!"
"Oh, right." He tries to side step around the giant, away from the castle, when a laugh rings out, making him stop to cover his ears.
"Now, now. No funny business, off you go."
A hand covers Connor's back, guiding him towards the entrance. One more look at the giant and Connor decides that giving up a small smile is the smartest thing to do.
"Well, off I go," he says, testing. The giant just stands there smiling back at him. With a sigh, Connor takes a real step towards the castle. And then another one. Maybe they'll have a phone.
He tosses the robe aside once he's sure the giant's not looking.
*
Inside the castle, it's chaos.
Kids running amok, all of them in identical dark robes. It's either graduation day or this is a really funny Courthouse. He's heard stories like this, too, from Fred, about evil children who take over a town and wreak havoc on any adults who happen to fall prey. He's just turned seventeen, maybe they'll spare him. He doesn't know if he can kill this many without his powers. Although he'll certainly try if it comes down to that.
"Oh, there you are." A boy's walking up to him, trailing a small group of kids in his wake. The boy gives Connor the once-over. "Where're your robes?"
"Uh - "
"Nevermind," the kid says, slinging an arm around Connor's shoulder. He gets maneuvered into walking along with them. "Binns won't notice anyhow, the daft bugger."
Another boy snorts. "He'd a have to take his eyes off whatever deadly boring text he's reading out loud to us to do that, now wouldn't he?" Everyone but Connor laughs.
"God, I hate this class," the kid with the heavy arm says.
"You hate every class," a girl retorts. More laughter.
"Now, Hermione, you know that's not true," the kid replies, his right hand pressed up to his heart. "I *love* Potions." They're practically falling over themselves by the time they enter the classroom.
Connor gets deposited in one of the chairs, the group thinning out as they all take their seats. His heart's racing again. He really wishes Gunn were here.
*
After about fifteen minutes of sitting in Binn's class, the fear's worn off, replaced by an itchy need to hit something. Even the novelty of having a ghost for a teacher has grown old, and he's stopped staring at the floating candles. He gets it; the whole place is magicked up. It'd be ironic, if he wasn't infuriated.
"Excuse me, uh, sir?" Connor raises his arm, his question breaking the tedium of Binns' droning about the fourth troll uprising in what promises to be a long list of troll uprisings. "May I go to the bathroom?"
Binns' semi-transparent eyes stare at Connor over the rim of his semi-transparent glasses. "Eh?"
"The, uh," Connor blinks. "I have to pee."
The whole class bursts into titters. Connor rolls his eyes.
Binns presses his thin lips over his teethless gums. "Yes, yes, go," he says, waving one of his grey hands.
"Me, too," a boy says. It's that same kid, the one who's a little too friendly.
Binns just makes another wave, eyes back on his open book.
Connor follows the kid out, careful to leave some distance between them. He darts a glance towards the castle exit, but the kid takes his elbow and leads them into the bathroom. Connor stops, surprised. It's the largest bathroom he's ever seen, all of it marble and mirrors and gold. He stares into one of the mirrors, unsure of what he's seeing. When he raises his hand towards his face, the reflection does, too. He touches the mirror with his hand. Well, that would explain it, he thinks. He has the sudden urge to giggle.
"What's the matter?" the kid says. "I mean, I think you're pretty funny looking, too, but - "
Connor looks at his reflection again, at the hair sticking up in a dozen different directions, the oversized green eyes behind the wide glasses. He wanted to be someplace else. He's certainly accomplished that.
"Hey," the kid says, a small hand at Connor's shoulder. "You all right?"
"Yeah," Connor breathes, running a hand through his hair, then trying to make the strands lay flat. Nothing doing. "It's just - ." He gives the kid his best apologetic look. "Forget it."
"Not getting sick are you?" the kid says, back of his hand on Connor's forehead. Somehow Connor's gotten pressed up against the mirror, the glass cool against his back, the kid practically stepping on his toes. Their mouths are really close together. Connor knocks his head when he pulls away, both hands on the the kid's chest, trying to maintain some space between their bodies. The kid's taller than him. And stronger.
The kid's face opens up into a wide grin. "Yeah, best to save it for later," he says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants.
The door to the bathroom opens. "Hiya, Seamus. Harry," the new kid says, giving them a funny look before moving down to the last stall.
Connor's breathing through his mouth, trying not to lose it. "We'd better go," he says.
"Don't you have to pee?" Seamus's grin gets wider.
Connor shakes his head, making his glasses fall to the end of his nose. "I just remembered that, I, uh," he looks down at himself, "I forgot my robes. I better go get them before, before the next class."
This time, he's definitely running.
*
Go back to read the rest of Part 1A
or,
On to Part 2
This has a title, now, which means we're in for a penny, in for a buck, I suppose. I think I'm making this more complicated than I need to, but I hope I'll be able to do it right, so forward, ho!
Connor heads North, eventually coming up to a stone wall. It's too tall for him to see what's on the other side, so he tries to jump over it. And fails. He looks down at his feet, at the worn out sneakers, the loose gathering of threads that are serving for shoelaces, the soles curled away from the rest of the shoe. He takes another crack at jumping the wall, knees bent this time, hands up. Manages to catch the top of the wall with his fingertips and gets a streak of bloody scratchmarks along the pads of his fingers for his trouble. When he lands back on the grass, he falters, one of his ankles turning a few degrees in the wrong direction before he rights himself again. His legs rattle.
He looks down at the blood, spots of it pooling into tiny circles against his skin. When he passes his thumbnail over the marks, a prick of pain shoots up from his hand to the base of his skull. His heart starts kicking up, stomping against his ribcage in a rhythm that's too fast. He could really be in trouble here.
Connor shakes himself loose, the moment over in an instant. He presses a fist against the wall, dragging his knuckles along the the sharp bumps until he's leaving tracks of red to dye the stone. So what if his powers are gone. He never wanted them in the first place.
*
After a while, he realizes that he's on a pathway; small, white pebbles shining in the sunlight, the path curving with the wall towards an entrance. The wall's lower here, just enough that he can make out a tower, maybe two. the points of them a darker blue than the sky. Three dozen more steps and the wall breaks open into an arched entrance. Connor stands there, one hand on the archway, lungs still cramped from the walk up the path. It's a castle. He knows about castles; Holtz used to tell him stories when he was kid, about princesses who were locked away to rot in their own filth in towers, servants whose hearts were ripped out of their chests by Kings with bad moods.
Connor turns around, practically running.
"Harry," a voice booms out. Connor doesn't bother to look over his shoulder.
"Harry, me boy. Ho! Hold up, there, lad!"
Connor spins on his heels, fists up near his face, ready. Then he staggers back, raising his gaze the extra four feet that's needed to meet the giant in the eyes.
"Well, a pixie'll grab on to your tongue, for sure, if you stand there with your mouth hanging open like that," the giant says. He sounds jovial enough. It doesn't keep Connor from taking a few more steps away. "Here," he thrusts a lump of dark fabric towards Connor. One of his fingers is the size of Connor's arm. "I found it in the stables, thought you might be looking for it."
"Oh," Connor says, taking the lump in both hands. "Thank you." His voice is funny, coming out in an unfamiliar accent.
"Don't even mention it," the giant says. "Can't have you getting into trouble just 'cause you've left your robes someplace. There's professors that don't take to that kind of thing, you know."
"Um, yes." Connor shakes the lump out.
"Now, me, for instance, I think that the uniform's a might bit - " the giant breaks off, fingers in his beard. "What am I doing, talking away and taking up your time? You'll be late for your next class!"
"Oh, right." He tries to side step around the giant, away from the castle, when a laugh rings out, making him stop to cover his ears.
"Now, now. No funny business, off you go."
A hand covers Connor's back, guiding him towards the entrance. One more look at the giant and Connor decides that giving up a small smile is the smartest thing to do.
"Well, off I go," he says, testing. The giant just stands there smiling back at him. With a sigh, Connor takes a real step towards the castle. And then another one. Maybe they'll have a phone.
He tosses the robe aside once he's sure the giant's not looking.
*
Inside the castle, it's chaos.
Kids running amok, all of them in identical dark robes. It's either graduation day or this is a really funny Courthouse. He's heard stories like this, too, from Fred, about evil children who take over a town and wreak havoc on any adults who happen to fall prey. He's just turned seventeen, maybe they'll spare him. He doesn't know if he can kill this many without his powers. Although he'll certainly try if it comes down to that.
"Oh, there you are." A boy's walking up to him, trailing a small group of kids in his wake. The boy gives Connor the once-over. "Where're your robes?"
"Uh - "
"Nevermind," the kid says, slinging an arm around Connor's shoulder. He gets maneuvered into walking along with them. "Binns won't notice anyhow, the daft bugger."
Another boy snorts. "He'd a have to take his eyes off whatever deadly boring text he's reading out loud to us to do that, now wouldn't he?" Everyone but Connor laughs.
"God, I hate this class," the kid with the heavy arm says.
"You hate every class," a girl retorts. More laughter.
"Now, Hermione, you know that's not true," the kid replies, his right hand pressed up to his heart. "I *love* Potions." They're practically falling over themselves by the time they enter the classroom.
Connor gets deposited in one of the chairs, the group thinning out as they all take their seats. His heart's racing again. He really wishes Gunn were here.
*
After about fifteen minutes of sitting in Binn's class, the fear's worn off, replaced by an itchy need to hit something. Even the novelty of having a ghost for a teacher has grown old, and he's stopped staring at the floating candles. He gets it; the whole place is magicked up. It'd be ironic, if he wasn't infuriated.
"Excuse me, uh, sir?" Connor raises his arm, his question breaking the tedium of Binns' droning about the fourth troll uprising in what promises to be a long list of troll uprisings. "May I go to the bathroom?"
Binns' semi-transparent eyes stare at Connor over the rim of his semi-transparent glasses. "Eh?"
"The, uh," Connor blinks. "I have to pee."
The whole class bursts into titters. Connor rolls his eyes.
Binns presses his thin lips over his teethless gums. "Yes, yes, go," he says, waving one of his grey hands.
"Me, too," a boy says. It's that same kid, the one who's a little too friendly.
Binns just makes another wave, eyes back on his open book.
Connor follows the kid out, careful to leave some distance between them. He darts a glance towards the castle exit, but the kid takes his elbow and leads them into the bathroom. Connor stops, surprised. It's the largest bathroom he's ever seen, all of it marble and mirrors and gold. He stares into one of the mirrors, unsure of what he's seeing. When he raises his hand towards his face, the reflection does, too. He touches the mirror with his hand. Well, that would explain it, he thinks. He has the sudden urge to giggle.
"What's the matter?" the kid says. "I mean, I think you're pretty funny looking, too, but - "
Connor looks at his reflection again, at the hair sticking up in a dozen different directions, the oversized green eyes behind the wide glasses. He wanted to be someplace else. He's certainly accomplished that.
"Hey," the kid says, a small hand at Connor's shoulder. "You all right?"
"Yeah," Connor breathes, running a hand through his hair, then trying to make the strands lay flat. Nothing doing. "It's just - ." He gives the kid his best apologetic look. "Forget it."
"Not getting sick are you?" the kid says, back of his hand on Connor's forehead. Somehow Connor's gotten pressed up against the mirror, the glass cool against his back, the kid practically stepping on his toes. Their mouths are really close together. Connor knocks his head when he pulls away, both hands on the the kid's chest, trying to maintain some space between their bodies. The kid's taller than him. And stronger.
The kid's face opens up into a wide grin. "Yeah, best to save it for later," he says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants.
The door to the bathroom opens. "Hiya, Seamus. Harry," the new kid says, giving them a funny look before moving down to the last stall.
Connor's breathing through his mouth, trying not to lose it. "We'd better go," he says.
"Don't you have to pee?" Seamus's grin gets wider.
Connor shakes his head, making his glasses fall to the end of his nose. "I just remembered that, I, uh," he looks down at himself, "I forgot my robes. I better go get them before, before the next class."
This time, he's definitely running.
*
Go back to read the rest of Part 1A
or,
On to Part 2