Lion’s Den PV: Mathias Closed

'Abandoned' is a strong word for such a classroom. There were some spaces in this great Scottish castle that have fallen into a state of disrepair or neglect, but this was often a temporary state. The reckless choice of his compeers often left a hole in a wall, a broken window, or even scorch marks on the floor. The act of magic being chaotic and dangerous in the hand of unlearned practitioners such as himself, it was a wonder this castle was standing at all.

It was not that they were 'abandoned' specifically but rather not every classroom was in active use. In a castle as large as this, there were a great many rooms both big and small that remained forgotten and in some cases spurned. As fastidious as elves were, these places of disrepair were few but even more so were spaces that were isolated from the deluge of preteens that seem to occupy every dark and dismal corner in this school. The abandoned bathroom was like central station in London, betraying the notion of privacy.

How is one supposed to brood when there is *magic* all about? The charm of paintings that serve as mere reflections of whomever they depict was lost to Mathias but he had seen such 'wonder' his entire life. The shifting stairs were a nuisance, not an accomplishment or an amazement. Hogwarts was a great many things, but what mathias had expected Hogwarts was not. The school seemed to define mediocracy. While massive in size and from afar it seemed grand with famed alumni, fellow purebloods to consort with. In truth, Hogwarts appeared to be an extension of mediocrity.

He had sought to separate himself from the tethers of his family, yet he found that he was a conformist. He found that he was quietly drawn to the social drama of his extended family. In fact, that was why he was here in this empty classroom. A rare space that went unnoticed, awaiting an informal meeting between himself and his cousin as well as his attractive muggleborn friend. Alas they would be a no-show, notoriously shy and private events that were beyond his control would result in an unfortunate diversion.

Mathias was sitting near the window. A small bowl of almonds on the sill, he was snacking on the contents while he watched the snowfall carpet the grounds. There was a quiet peace that was so incredibly rare in a place such as Hogwarts except in the most vile and forgettable environs. It was a shame he would have to share it with his intended caller. Perhaps even they could meet at a later time.

@Mathias Pride

Unfortunately (fortunately?) for Mathias, his precious moment of tranquility was interrupted by an untimely entrant to his personal space.

The door parted so slightly and slowly, that if he hadn’t looked, he might not have detected that someone was entering the room at all. With all the cautiousness of a mouse, Valentine worked his way quietly through the little crevice he had created, sliding in just barely before closing the door softly behind him. Donning his feet length Gryffindor robes, it appeared that he had just returned from a hectic day of classes. He seemed to heave a sigh of relief as he allowed what looked like a mesh bag of tennis balls to fall to the ground next to him. This was, of course, until he turned around and saw that he wasn’t alone in the room. For a moment, he stopped almost comically, like a thief caught in the act. He blinked, wondering how and why this individual had happened upon his little enclave, and whether or not he was here to cause any trouble. After trying without much avail to read the other boy, he let out a long sigh of exasperation.

“Hi. . .” he started awkwardly. “Have you been here for a while?”

To lend to the comedy of the scene, Mathias did not hear nor did he notice the Gryffindor who padded the floor with his great paws. Not that Jackson Valentine was likely well regarded for his feline agility or likely if one were to account for his spectacles agility of any sort, but Mathias was also not well regarded for his perception. He would lazily look out the window, watch the serenity that was night and enjoy his moment of peace. It was like a symphony being played on a phonograph, a glorious array of instruments that sung their soothing song until a set of nails raked across the the surface of the record and the orchestra in his mind came to a screeching halt.

"Hi... have you been here for a while?"

"Private club," Mathias announced without turning around entirely. He looked the boy over out of the side of his eye. Of course the club was a lie unless one could have a part of one in a club. "Go away," he added in dismissal. He plucked another pair of almonds from the small, shallow bowl in front of him and let out a quiet sigh of frustration. The music, the peace was gone. He could only hope with the Gryffindor's departure that he would find that rare instance of tranquil bliss once again. "What are you waiting for? Go..." Mathias repeated exasperated really by the fact that he was still there, looking like a sad sack of tennis balls. "You do not belong here," he added with a tone of haughtiness he often endeavored to conceal, but now with limited company and witnesses that seemed to matter much less. The dictates of polite conversation where two people speak and say nothing, request nothing and learn nothing, would prove to be no boon for the Slytherin.

Jackson did not belong here. In his room, yes this was his room. But also, the boy did not belong in his school. yes, his school. Unrecognized of course. That being because they did not run in or in Jackson's case ruin the same circles. He had never seen the boy at a pureblood event, there are many. He had never seen the boy on the quidditch pitch or the dueling court. No, Jackson was as many were here in Hogwarts, irrelevants that took up space, stole away the peace and the space that could be afforded to his betters.

@Mathias Pride

To him, Mathias’s words were an impossibility. His eyes narrowed as he approached.

Now that just didn’t make any sense.

“Sorry. I’ll leave if it’s your club, but where are your members? Unless they didn’t come with the furniture,” Valentine quipped, although he held both hands up in a placating manner. As Mathias’s disrespectful tone assaulted his person, however, his hands curled inward into fists, cracking his joints, stretching in anticipation of an impending conflict. Valentine could sense the other boy’s disdain for him, and he was unfazed in the slightest. After all, why would he be alarmed if someone he hardly knew looked down on him? He wouldn’t be the first person at Hogwarts to present this attitude. It was merely a natural part of the order of the universe. The sun rose from the east and set in the west. The tides came in and went out as surely as the seasons changed. People belittled Jackson Valentine; and oftentimes, they came to regret it.

Simple.

Natural.

Yet calmer heads might still prevail.

“I’ll just be here for an hour,” he stated coolly. Raising his right leg, he set his foot up against the edge of the ledge that Mathias was resting his delicious bowl of almonds on. Letting his right arm rest languidly on his thigh, he began to undo the straps of his robe. He was getting changed into something more comfortable.

If this was indeed Mathias’s room and Mathias’s school, could he stand such disrespect?

No, it was Valentine’s room. He could do as he wished, with only the consequence that he would have to clean the mark on the ledge later.

The law of dibs would not be respected by Jackson Valentine. The boy whose robes said "Gryffindor
lion" but his face said "Ravenclaw nerd." With the physique of a boy whose heaviest weight lifted might be a magical tome, the first year 'Gryffindor' decided to trespass on the Slytherin's domain. Yes, this was Mathias' room, not their room. Matt might have went to preparatory school but there was one thing lacking in the curriculum -- sharing. Perhaps that was what saved him from suffering as a Hufflepuff.

For whatever reason, the Gryffindor decided his most prudent decision would be to place his filthy muggle shoe on the sil adjacent to Mathias. Approach an unknown and then place himself in a vulnerable position. How foolish. Despite his bookish exterior, Valentine did not appear to be well read. Gryffindors tend to have experienced these moments with their brash heroics rather than obstinance, not that it mattered here because the Gryffindor had left himself vulnerable in his attempt to display disrespect. Something one would have thought either house would have warned him again.

Oh well.

Balanced on a single leg, it would take but a single tap behind the knee to cause Jackson's precarious balance to crumble. For the boy to tumble and fall. Yes, his precious almonds might become collateral damage but it would be for a good cause.

The free strip show might have lightened the mood if there was anything worth looking at. The Gryffindor was the bearer of sadness and annoyance. Indignation prickled inside Mathias Pride. "Filthy mudblood," the Slytherin muttered. Did he know for certain Jackson's parentage? Certainly not, but he knew that he did not know the boy. If Jackson, presently nameless Gryffinclaw was anyone worth knowing, Mathias would have already known about him. His lack of knowledge meant one thing - the boy was an irrelevant.

The statement would herald an action. Mathias was not a particularly strong young man, not that he would willful admit this fact. He was clever and more than that, he was willing to play dirty. So while the boy unbuttoned his robe and gave the worst strip tease of the decade, Mathias would simply kick his own leg out, a sweep to the side away from the wall and into the side of Jackson's single stabilizing leg. Effectiveness the choice of my partner.

Power was simply replaced with opportunity in the case of the Slytherin.

@Mathias Pride

Mathias was shrewd. He waited for his enemy to be at his most vulnerable and struck him where he was weakest. But although he had gotten the point of impact right, he had misjudged the timing of it. Valentine was watching his every move, even if it was just with the corner of his eye.

!

When Mathias darted his leg out to strike the other in the calf, Valentine stepped back with an unexpected amount of dexterity for someone his age. In one broad stroke, he pushed off lightly from the ledge with his bent knee, returning to a grounded stance some two meters away from his attacker. Despite his anticipation of the attack, it didn’t stop Mathias from landing a glancing blow against the front of his calf as he spun away out of reach. The shock stung, but it was more of a nuisance than a hindrance. The point was: he was still on his feet.

So this boy was prepared to resort to force to prove a point. Valentine didn’t know how powerful a fully committed strike from Mathias would be, but getting hit wasn’t the ideal method to find out.

It also put him at a slight disadvantage. While he was remarkably agile for someone his age, his forte was in spellcasting. If this encounter was going to descend into fisticuffs, he had to be cautious to avoid being overpowered because of his middling strength.

Instead, he reached for the white t-shirt packed into his bag and proceeded to complete the change of his dressing. In his mind, he wagered that Mathias wouldn’t be so brazen as to attempt a direct attack on him that could potentially provoke an equally desperate response, especially now that he was standing. Still, he took several steps back for insurance. He had a pair of jeans that were meant to replace his trousers, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tempt this Slytherin with an opening when his pants were off; so he opted to keep them as they were.

“How about this, then? We can share the space until your club members arrive,” he offered. That is if they’re even coming.

The smile on his face disappeared as his lips curled into a snarl.

“Don’t try that again, or I will actually hurt you.”

The attack was a miss in all ways that mattered. An attack was either effective or it was ineffective, there was no such thing as a sufficient glancing blow.

It was wise to keep his pants on. In positions of vulnerability, he likely would have been at his worst with his trousers about his ankles. An undignified scene at its best, one would only hope at a time such as this a wandering lass found there way into the abandoned classroom, saw what they never needed to see and then proceed to share what she saw with her friends. Truly in society, with the people that actually matter, how you are regarded and what people know is of actual import. A notion that appeared to be well over Valentine's head, much like the shirt over his head.

Mathias was shrewd enough to consider his options. He was hardly a brute, a young man capable of any feats of strength. He was merely an opportunist. A young man that was best at taking advantage of favorable moments. A few feet of distance between them, the boy had two options. Step closer and engage once again or remain where he was, allow the insistent bugger to complete the exchange knowing he would have to tolerate his insolent presence.

Jackson mentioned sharing, yes sharing his space until... an hour turned into when his club members arrived. How absurd. As if he would willingly spend time with this inutile youth. It sounded like a dire fate if without an iota of amusement. He could have a little fun he supposed.

The threat of being hurt hardly a deterrent as a smirk would creep its way across the ginger's face. No, he would not 'try it again', he was not nearly that predictable. He would do as any Slytherin worth their merit would do, he would wait for fortuity to show itself and then take advantage. His moment being when the young man was busy pulling his shirt over his head.

Brisk steps forward, it was likely that Valentine would expect another attack on his person. An assault that he would likely merely avoid and even if it did land on its mark, it would prove ineffective. There was merely a vulnerability in terms of avoidance and even then only if it was unexpected. A low impact, anticipated attack would prove worthless. No, he would not concentrate on the boy but rather on the bag. "What do we have here?" He would chime as he reached out for Jackson's bag. The one I presume you are keeping your change of clothes in. Attempt to snatch it. Success or failure determined by my partner. And yes, rifle through his things.

Was the contents of the bag as plain as the boy? Most likely but he was not in the game of discovering secrets but rather annoying the ever living pandemonium out of the boy for diverting what could have been a pleasant and enjoyable afternoon.

@Mathias Pride

There's no way he's that dumb.

Valentine was both right and wrong in that regard as he took several further backward steps for good measure, hearing the sudden approach of the other boy. As the collar of his shirt popped over his head, he narrowed his gaze in bewilderment at what the kid was doing. He almost couldn't believe his eyes, stifling an incredulous chuckle.

He knew he wasn't the most popular person to get along with, but the lengths that this boy was going to get to his head were impressive.

"Those are my things (?)" he replied redundantly. Within the bag, Mathias would find the pair of jeans which Valentine was planning to wear for his practice session, as well as most of his schooling materials from earlier that day. If he rummaged hard enough though, he would stumble upon buried treasure. "There's a caramel candy in there if I recall correctly."

Given to him by a generous friend. It would be a shame if Mathias took it, but the most it would cost Valentine was an apology to said friend for losing it. Until now, it wasn't completely clear to him what exactly this boy's intention was, but as of the moment, it didn't bother him enough to cause him to lose his cool. Mathias could screw with his things as much as he liked.

He simply strode over to the door, where he had deposited his bag of tennis balls. His next actions were rather. . . Ambiguous.

Unzipping the sack, the boy proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor, giving them a gentle push for the initial boost needed to disperse about the room. Several of such balls would end up rolling next to where Mathias stood.

Never seen a tennis ball. Did not trust them either. Too much fuzz, not quite enough bounce. As if someone thought a neon colored sphere needed an ounce of stealth. The question was why?

It should be noted, the Pureblood had never seen 'tennis', ten of what? Television is a muggle diversion, this box of light that sings them songs and tells them lies. Shows them the great endeavors of tennis balls.

He frowned at the balls as the wobbled, rolled and bounced to a halt near his feet. Was the fuzz fur? Were they still alive. He took the treasure he discovered at the bottom of the bag as tossed a candy at one of the balls. "Eat it," he nudged the ball with the side of his foot more interested in the muggle fuzzball than Jackson. A glint of disappointment in his eye, presumably the ball did nothing of interest.

He did not steal the rest of the boys candy, he might be a haughty bully but he was no thief. "How can someone be both weird and borring?" He asked rhetorically, yes it was somehow Jackson's muggle fault that there was nothing interesting in either his bag or the tennis balls he had summoned to... uh, just be there all confusing.

Normal wars were fought with cannons or guns, in a wizard's case wands. This war was being fought on another battlefield entirely it would seem. That of vexation rather than subjugation and submission or attrition. Fine, he reasoned. The gears in his head were turning, making a bit of smoke even. Another oppertunity would arise, do not rush it...