Repello Muggletum: a Hogwarts Roleplay discussion

Silent except for the ruffles of old paper, the library is the perfect place to go to study for that O.W.L or N.E.W.T. The large library is pretty dusty, and smells of old paper and well-worn leather. There are books for everything available here, just no going into the Restricted Section!

America peeked out from around the Herbology bookcase, taking a glance at the newcomer. Long hair, Gryffindor robes . . . it wasn't often America saw Gryffindors spending free time in the library. She chose her favorite Magical Herbs and Surprising Uses and sat back on a straight-backed, yet cozy chair by the window.

'While most witches and wizards might content themselves with knowledge of only the most basic of magical fauna, the advanced Herbologist knows that bewitched plants, unseen to the Muggle eye, are instrumental in many other branches of magic. One of the most closely tied to Herbology is the study of Potions, which we will discuss in this chapter. Potions and Herbology have a long, extensive history...' the introduction read.

America looked up, surprised. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was reading aloud," she apologized, blushing a bit. An annoying habit, but what could one do? Figured, though--a Gryffindor more focused on herself than on her peers.

"Of course it's not a walk in the park," she continued, trying and failing not to sound too obnoxious, "but it's manageable." In truth, America loved Transfiguration, and might have offered her help if the Gryffindor hadn't been so rude about it.

America smirked at Lyte's tone, softening towards the obviously overworked Gryffindor. Willing to make new friends as always, she placed her book down and moved closer to the Gryffindor's table.
"I'm America, by the way. America Greene."

"Very astute observation, Gryffindor," America said, grinning too. "Yes, I'm in Ravenclaw. I bet you weren't surprised to see me in the library?" She reached behind her to collect her blonde hair into a braid, fingering the long locks and tying it back with a blue ribbon from her wrist.

America glanced at the quill. "No way! That's not . . . phoenix feather, is it?" she asked, eyes wide. As one might expect any Ravenclaw to react, she was ecstatic at the thought of a rare bird's quill, solely for the reason that it was rare and of literary value.

"Still, it's a beautiful quill," America said, wondering how she might bribe her parents into letting her get one. Maybe for Christmas?

"So, sorry to distract you. What're you working on in Transfiguration?" America asked, peering at Lyte's homework parchment.

"Ah, yes, Professor Jayfox assigned my class the same essay," America sympathized, reading the prompt aloud:

"Explain the differences between the Animagus Spell and a temporary Transfiguration into an animal. List side effects, famous instances, and detailed insight into the Theory of Human Transfiguration, first proposed by Eric the Insightful in 42 BC. 20 centimeters, due Monday next."

America pulled her own essay out of her bag. The neat, almost callighraphied cursive writing flowed down fifteen centimeters of the parchment. "I've almost the same, if a bit more. I just can't figure out how to tie in the marked differences between Transfiguration and an Animagus. And Professor Jayfox promised extra credit to any student who included Metamorphmaguses in his or her essay."

"Yep. I've never met one, I don't think--it's hard to know, really-- but I think it'd be a fantastic piece of magic to see. No Polyjuice Potions, no spells, just pure magic."

America shook her head. "Sometimes it helps me to take my mind off of writing, and instead just reading a book on the subject. That way, I'm in the frame of mind I need, but it's not too taxing," she offered, piling a book out of her bag. "You can borrow my copy of Transfiguration of the Human Species that I got here, if you'd like. Just don't let Madame Pince catch you with it, she'd go ballistic!" America vaguely wondered how old the witch was, and if she would ever retire.

America handed the worn book over. With its dragonhide cover and ancient script, it was a bit harder to read than a more modern book, but it was the most in-depth discussion on the matter America had ever seen. Even the cover was a work of art, with soft rose undertones and brilliant gold, swirling lettering.

"I found it near the back of a shelf, shoved in a corner and dusty. It looked so lonely," America murmured, fingering the spine once more. "I absolutely adore old books, you know."

Having little options as to where to go to study, the library was the first option. The common room had gotten much too loud for Daniel's taste and now he strolled through the library, searching for a place to sit and work. A few faces he recognized, though most of their escaped him

His steps were much louder here--nothing to muffle them. Finding an empty table just one down from where his fellow housemate sat, he settled in a chair and pulled a few papers out from his schoolbag. He knew of her-- most everyone did--and was not inclined to start a conversation.

Gwynivere wrote: "An almost annoyed and aggravated sigh was pushed out from the small gap in between brightly painted lips - a shining red like a fresh apple plucked from the ripest of trees.

Eyelashes fluttered a..."

((Sorry, Gwyn. My mom made me go to bed))

As if he couldn't quite hear her stark greeting, Daniel continued to shuffle around papers before pulling out his incomplete homework, a quill and inkwell.

"That you did," replied Daniel, scribbling down another sentence. He hadn't bothered to look up at her. After all, they'd never really spoken to one another.

Thera (The face inside is right beneath your skin) wrote: "Magdalena (Maggie or Magtail) wrote: ""I found it near the back of a shelf, shoved in a corner and dusty. It looked so lonely," America murmured, fingering the spine once more. "I absolutely adore ..."

"Me, too. Even Muggle books. Sometimes I miss them so. The way they crinkled when I opened them, the smell of brittle, aged paper. Even the waterspouts were reminders of how loved they were. Like old friends…" America trailed off. She'd left most of them at home, not wanting to lose or damage them, but it really had been like leaving a childhood friend behind.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed about it, Gryffindor," America said, smiling sympathetically. "After all, you're breaking House stereotypes. A Gryffindor, liking books? Unheard of!" she exclaimed in a soft voice, still respecting the calm quiet of the library. Her chair scraped the soft, carpeted flooring as she scooted in closer to the ancient table, leaning in.

"You know," America teased, waggling her eyebrows mischievously, "you'd better watch out someone doesn't mistake you for being a Ravenclaw. Wouldn't want that, now would we?".

"But of course! Any title but Gryffindor, my dear, would be an insult to such a bad girl as you," America said, pulling a straight face and adding a whispered, "but you wouldn't be caught dead in a library, chatting with a Ravenclaw, would you?"

Thera (The face inside is right beneath your skin) wrote: ""Oh, certainly not," Lyte laughed quietly. "So I'd better go. Send me an owl later, maybe we can exchange thoughts that way.""

((I gotta go to bed now. Sorry!))

"Very funny," America said, eyes giving away her mirth. "All right, shall I have the owl dive-bomb your dormitory, or do a perfect Wronsky Feint during your Quidditch practice?"

"No, it's not," he answered in a monotonous tone. Daniel did not like socializing, and so he did so very rarely. He was content that way.

But every so often someone would approach him--as Brooklyn did now--and he would answer in the same bored tone as always, regardless of the person. They usually left him alone.

((Is Brookly a pureblood?))
"Unless of course you don't feel the need to respond," he answered, head still bent slightly, and eyes still focused on his work. She'd be trouble, he could tell.

((Mkay. Just wondering))

A slow exhale of breath left him, and his grip on the quill tightened ever-so-slightly. "I suppose. Now if you would kindly give me back my papers, it would be much obliged." There was a slight pause after each enunciation. Only then did he steal a glance upward, frown set, eyebrow raised.

"Really," he drawled out the word just bit with a slight scathing, though not a trace of worry or panic or annoyance slipped into his tone, nor onto his face. He knew exactly how to retrieve his papers, should she feel the stubborn urge to hang onto them.

"That's your opinion." But it was not the first--and he doubted the last--tie he'd been told that. Did it matter? Not to him. Collecting the papers as the fluttered down, he looked over them one last time. Good enough. And they were placed carefully in his textbook.

A quick roll of his eyes. "Mature," he muttered, then he too stood and headed off. Perhaps outside might be quieter.

Thera (The face inside is right beneath your skin) wrote: "((Same))

"The former." Lyte put her quill back in her bag, trying (unsuccessfully) not to laugh loudly."

America joined in, looking around awkwardly as she realized how loud they were being. "Here," she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder and standing. "Maybe we could go on a walk or something. Or find a better place to work on our Transfiguration papers." She turned and stuffed the rest of her junk into her bag--a few quills she'd pulled out, a hair tie, and a bottle of ink-- and placed her hands on the back of the chair, drumming her fingers on the hard, wooden back.

"Where to? We could walk to the lake, maybe find a spot by a tree, as it's still pretty warm out. Or we could go to the third floor--there's this really neat little room behind a tapestry of a unicorn that I found first year."

America nodded, sliding her bag over her shoulder. "Deal."

Before she could say another word, America turned and speedwalked out of the library, turned left, and moved out of sight down the corridor.

[*poof?*]

((you pick where to start.))

[Sure. I need to, anyways. :)]

Hunched over a sheet of parchment, Daniel scribbled down a few more words from an open text book. The essay Professor Nyx had assigned was far from hard, but it was lengthy, not to mention dull. Regardless, it was better than staying in the common room.

Sighing, he pulled off his glasses, head resting on his hand. Potions might have been interesting, he thought, had there been less homework.

Humming (very) quietly to himself, with his index finger pushed against his angular chin, Finn ambled along the corridors of bookshelves in the library, his keen eyes catching the titles of the dusty, leather-bound books.

"Colour Change: The Evolution of Transfiguration. Yes, that is the one I'm looking for. But ... wow!" Finn's expression changed immediately from pensive to absolutely delighted.

"Chimeras, Cockatrices, Crups, and Centaurs: An Alphabetized Encyclopaedia to Magical Beasts! Now that is something I want to read," he said, beaming. Removing the small but rather heavy book and balancing it on the tip of his wand, Finn slipped between the crowded desks of diligent students to an empty seat next to an older boy in Slytherin robes.

"Mind if I take this?" he asked cheerily, his kind smile lighting up his already excited face.

"I do," he answered with a raise of an eyebrow.

He disliked company as it was, and the absolute peppiness of the Hufflepuff would be unbearable. Daniel replaced his glasses. He doubted they were in the same year, and if they were, he hadn't seen him before.

Finn's expression changed again, this time to a slightly frightened glance at the messy hair and glasses perched on the edge of the Slytherin's nose.

"Er ... okay," he said lamely, the prefect's badge glinting in the light as he stepped away, his book tucked safely under his arm. As an afterthought he took out the Transfiguration book he needed for his project, reclining to a seat far away from the cool Slytherin boy.

Esther sat at her usual table towards the back of the library. Like always, she had nose burried in a book, but her mind was elsewhere—unable to focus on the text. She was trying—trying so very hard—to focus, but it was just one of those days.

Sighing, she closed her book. No use trying to study if it would do her now good. Perhaps Rosaline was out of the common room.

"No."
"But I - "
"No."
"If I could just - "

Then the librarian silenced him with that authoritative look in the arsenal of all teachers, somewhere in between detentions and warnings. Bruce didn't push her any farther but instead sulked away. He dropped himself into the nearest free chair, across from another Hogwartian, by the back of the library.

Esther didn't usually mingle in the affairs of unfamiliar students. But normally, she had something to do, and so she stopped gathering her things to look up at the Gryffindor. He seemed familiar, though she wasn't quite sure where she could have met him.

"You all right? You look..." She searched for a word, "dejected."

Bruce bothered himself to lift his gaze, dark from his little dispute and defeat with the librarian. Ravenclaw from her robes, probably here to study and he'd intruded or something. Oh well.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Can't get into the restricted section, old bird over there won't budge." Bruce's sharp-cut chin pointed towards Madget Bott, a thin witch and current Hogwarts librarian.

"What do you need from it?" she asked, both out of curiosity and the urge to help him. Mainly curiosity.

She had a pass. Istriz had written her one after she inquired about the more advanced uses of Arithmancy (and incessant pleading. Being her star student also helped). Needless to say, she found many more things in the Restricted Section that were much more prominent in her memory than Arithmancy.

"The Origin of Hexes." He realized how it probably looked to be asking for that, especially since it was in the restricted section, but it wasn't for him. "It's for this blasted assignment in DADA, but I was a little 'rude' - " A snort. " - to the professor and they refused to give me a pass."

She assumed that his definition of rude was slightly different to the socially accepted definition.

"I can get it. I got a pass earlier in the year." She wondered why the professor would assign such a task that required the use of a restricted book. But Esther didn't ask. Perhaps it was best not to.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. He could have left the book and done some normal research, or he could have better research without the help of his professor. "Could you? That would be great," he flashed a roguish grin that was his trademark.

His grin brought a half smile to her face, and she stood, fishing around in her bag a moment before pulling out her pass. "Who's the author?"

He fished around in his head for the name. "A bloke named Irving Bobbin, I think. Irving Bobbin or Irving Bludd, I get the two mixed up."

"All right." She made her way towards the cool librarian, who she had a good relationship with (though now Madame Bott eyed her suspiciously). Esther let her look over the pass, before nodding and handing it back, then she disappeared behind the gate closing off the Restricted Section from the rest of the library.

Bruce saw that the librarian was looking at him now, from suspicion or contempt, it was difficult to tell. He gave a cheeky wink and wave, to which she rolled her eyes and turned away. Then he waited for the Ravenclaw girl to return.

It took her quite a bit of time to find the book; Esther was still wary of the screaming ones in the library. Eventually she spotted the book on a low shelf, shoved to the side most likely by a reckless student. She returned to the Gryffindor.

"Ah, thank you." Bruce reached out and took the book, a dusty and moderate sized piece of literature. It wasn't very special, a bruised purplish colour with black script. "At least this one doesn't bite."

"Or shout at you the minute you touch it," Esther added as she sat back down. It was a gorgeous book. She'd always had a fascination with older books, though she could tell he wasn't impressed by it.