I Heard It Trough the Portrait Closed

As it so happened, Jack went by many names among his fellow Slytherins. Some called him 'Fox', some 'Parce'...sometimes even 'Imp', 'Demon Brat', and 'the ginger from Hell'. Though Jack was his given first name, first names were a thing of intimacy to the redhead, so he much preferred being called by his surname, Burnett. Thus, when first hearing that another snake was seeking someone out by the name of 'Jack', he at first thought the person might have been searching for Jackson 'Jack' Warren. He soon found out this couldn't have been the case, however, because the person being sought out was also most definitely a Slytherin. Jackson Warren the prefect, on the other hand, was a Hufflepuff.

Curious about how this mysterious person had come to know of him, why he had been referred to as 'Jack', what they wanted with him, and who they themselves were, Jack quickly spoke up to identify himself as the boy they were looking for. He closed the history book he had been reading, tucked it into his bookbag, and gestured toward the door, wordlessly suggesting that they step outside in order to have a more private conversation than within the common room walls.

The stranger appeared to be a boy about Jack's own age; a first year. His blonde hair was very pale, but not nearly as pale as his skin - something Jack had started to notice seemed to be a rather common complexion among his fellow house-mates. Spending so much time in the dungeons and darkness, however, it really wasn't much of a surprise. His peer also had a short, straight nose, blue eyes, and an average build. His ears, interestingly enough, stuck out a bit, making their ruddy hue particularly prominent. His cheeks just then almost seemed to match.

"So if you know my name, I'd think it only polite to give me yours in exchange, wouldn't you say?" Jack asked, a mirthless smile tightening his lips. He held out a hand to shake. "Let's start over. Jack Burnett. And you are...?"

@Gerald Fawkes

Reducio

Don't be sorry! I enjoy reading and replying to long posts. It expresses your interest and gives me more to respond to. This is a really fun start. Sorry it took me a bit to reply! Been a bit busy the past few days.

Gerald practically hissed the password at the imposing, ebony door that guarded the Slytherin Common Room. It creaked open and the boy strode inside. A group of second years chatted lively by the entrance, huddled together on an emerald velvet sofa. Gerald caught something along the lines of 'Potion's a drag' and 'Price can be a pain', and so, as he approached them, he supposed he wasn't interrupting an especially transcendental discussion.

"Do you happen to know any Jack around here?" he inquired, stepping in front of the couch.

They shook their heads, paying him little to no mind, and eagerly returned to comparing whom of the lot hated Professor Price the most.

Gerald asked his way through the Common Room, indiscriminately and unapologetically disturbing conversations in the hopes somebody would help him find whoever the Jack-boy was.

Eventually, a red-headed, hazel-eyed child stood from his chair in the other end of the room. He was the Jack, apparently. He headed towards the door, presumably in search of a quiet place to talk, and Gerald followed suit. Once out of everybody else's earshot, the ginger boy started speaking.

'So if you know my name, I'd think it only polite you give me yours in exchange, wouldn't you say? Let's start over. Jack Burnett. And you are...?'

His grin and what Gerald thought to be a rather wry tone, suggested Jack didn't suspect what the other one's purposes were. Gerald was most certainly not trying to bond with a housemate at this time of the day; he peered down at Jack's outstretched arm with a raised brow and gave his hand a quick, half-hearted shake.

"Gerald Fawkes," he said, answering his question. Now that they were face to face, Gerald noticed he was a good three inches taller than the ginger kid; the realization added a tinge of firmness to his voice. "Look, Jack Burnett. Whatever it is you might have heard from that delusional portrait, it is not true; it is nothing but rubbish, all of it."

He had practically spat out that last part. In an attempt to appear and sound like less of an arsehole, he straightened himself a bit, relaxed his expression and went on in a much silkier tone.

"I personally find that spreading around such filthy lies would be one extremely unwise choice, don't you agree?"

@Jack Burnett

For all of Gerald's assumptions, what he failed to realize was that, had Jack actually thought the other boy was attempting to bond with him, he would have swiftly turned the other way. However, if someone came around looking for him, due to Jack's rather infamous reputation among other first years by that point, chances were they had a bone to pick.

Everything about Gerald's demeanor, from his body language to his tone of voice to his interruptions of others' conversations (including those of upperclassmen) to his micro-expressions told Jack that this boy had no more intention of being friendly than he did, which suited the redhead just fine. Of course, that didn't prevent him from wanting to tease a little.

He was amused the blonde bothered to shake his hand at all and, along with being freely given the other's full name, Jack wondered what it meant. Raised to be polite and courteous, perhaps, despite one's own emotions...? Likely. Perhaps this Gerald was another high-bred, aristocratic pureblood. Jack had come to think he had learned to identify the type easily enough, but sometimes other wizardborn and half-bloods were likely to be have just as pompous. Maybe it was a snake thing. Regardless, he seemed like fun to get to learn more about and Jack intended to savor every moment of it.

Jack did not seem at all intimidated by the height difference between them, nor the slight change in assertion he heard in the blonde's voice. If anything, it made Jack more complacent in his stance. By being shorter and seeming friendly, Gerald had even more reason to underestimate Jack, which was ultimately what the redhead usually aimed for in nearly all first interactions. He was surprised the other kid hadn't even yet caught on to his teasing, because Jack didn't make any special effort to disguise it, but given how Gerald still kept his cool unlike many other adversaries who recognized being played with instantly, the blonde still seemed to be clueless.

There was also the minuscule chance that he knew he was being toyed with and was keeping calm anyway...but judging by the way his handshake had been half-hearted and his emotions were still slipping through his polite mannerisms and etiquette, the Welsh boy doubted Gerald possessed the self-discipline and control for that sort of feat.

"Fawkes! Pleasure's all mine. Though, just 'Burnett' will do, if you don't mind," Jack answered pleasantly. He guessed maybe Gerald had heard the name 'Jack' from one of the other more impudent students who chose to call him by his first name regardless of his preferences, but that mattered little now. He had many enemies, but he was sure he'd find out in time how that had happened.

Or...maybe right away.

Portrait? What portrait? It took him a minute of brow-furrowing before recalling what - no, who Gerald might have meant. Immediately, the smile went right back on his face.

"Ah! Yes, that fellow! What was his name again? Wig...Wiggins..." He paused, shutting his eyes tight and running his hand through his hair as he strained to remember the whole thing. "Wiggenworth! Thaddeus Wiggenworth. Right...interesting fellow. A tad kinder than I'd say was good for him, but..."

Wait. Had Gerald just called him...delusional?

Jack's smile gradually grew into a more wicked grin as he listened carefully to Fawkes continue on and a nefarious gleam in his eyes began to shine. Eventually, he threw back his head and released an almost maniacal laugh that echoed down what seemed to be miles of the empty stone dungeon corridors.

"Yes..." He agreed, taking a step closer as predatory hazel eyes locked on to blue. "I completely agree. Extremely unwise indeed. In fact, Fawkes, there is little more I despise worse than lies and liars. Did you know..?"

He held up a finger, ceasing in his advance. "One thing I very much dislike, though not more than liars, are friends. Terrible things, they are...after all, there's that one rhyme that's said for a reason."

He cleared his throat, almost as if for dramatic or theatrical effect, and began to recite,

"Make new friends,
and keep them such.

Never let them
know too much.

For when thy friend
becomes thy foe...

all the world
thy secrets know."

@Gerald Fawkes

What an absolute lunatic.

That was all Gerald could think of once Jack Burnett's uncanny soliloquy had come to an end. The way he'd let out a loud laugh, head tilted back, hazel eyes sparkling, had sent a shiver down Gerald's spine. As if that had not been unsettling enough, the redhead had then proceeded to confess his hatred for friendship and perform some poet-like stunt to make a point. Was this boy alright?

Gerald had stared in disbelief as Jack had gracefully recited the verses, not bothering to hide his utter befuddlement. As the other's voice ceased, he'd realized his mouth was slightly agape, lower lip hanging a bit. For a moment, Gerald had truly believed he was dealing with an actual maniac— or the victim of a rather nasty, mind-altering jinx, for all he knew.

Then again, something about Jack threw him off. Gerald met his eyes again; was it madness or malice that he saw in them? Dishonesty, perhaps? The messy mop of red hair that sat on his pale head did not match his grandiloquent ways at all. Gerald might have expected some extent of pedantry from certain conceited, stuck-up heirs that prided themselves just a bit too much on being Slytherins; this boy looked nothing like them, though.

After pondering the thought for a short while, he concluded Jack Burnett was making a mock of him. And Gerald was not enjoying it. Determined to cut short such absurd tomfoolery, he spoke again.

"Burnett," he grunted, spatting out the final t with more force than was necessary. "I am not an idiot and neither are you, I think," he continued. "Don't play Shakespeare and pretend you ignore why I am talking to you right now. Friend or foe, Wiggenworth evidently cannot keep his mouth shut and you've been told something you weren't supposed to. Kindly assure me that you, unlike Thaddeus, can, in fact, keep your mouth shut and that nobody else shall ever hear about you-know-what, yes?"

@Jack Burnett

Charming! It seemed the taller Slythering boy was finally getting more of a grasp on just what sort of person he had decided to involve himself with. Amusing as it was, the whole exchange was beginning to remind him a great deal of his first encounter with yet another Slytherin first year he had come to know - a young man who went by the name of Flash Holmwood.

Both of them were taller than Jack, had blue eyes, gave off the impression they thought they were smarter than him, that they could easily manipulate, use, persuade, or convince him, seemed easily thrown-off (and irritated) by their first impression of him versus their expectations, and both gave off the faint air of having been raised to behave properly at all times, going so far as to continue their adult-like mannerisms even away from the eyes of the public. They had also both proven to Jack upon their first meeting that they had the potential to be very, very entertaining, and while this encounter had yet to end, the Welsh boy was confident it would be everything he hoped and possibly even more.

Laughing quietly at the statement that Gerald wasn't an idiot and 'neither was Jack, he thought,' he wondered at the reference to Shakespeare briefly, contemplating as to whether it was a reference to his recitation or something deeper, before returning his attention to the matter at hand.

And, because he couldn't help himself at the time, feigned obvious stupidity.

"Huh?" He tilted his head and raised a brow. "But...didn't you just say that you didn't think what Wiggenworth said was true? 'Nothing but rubbish; all of it'?" Then he sneered, his countenance darkening. "Why would I spread around such filthy lies? Didn't I agree that it would be unwise?" Thick brows narrowed as the grin grew ever broader and he moved his face closer to Gerald's. "Or are you admitting that you are the liar? Because if that were the case...I might have to reconsider the concept that you are not an idiot."

Lifting his hand, he inspected his nails as if they were suddenly more interesting than what his housemate was trying to ask of him. "I'm a reasonable person, Fawkes. But that also means I don't do something for nothing. I'm usually willing to exchange favors for favors with just about anyone. However...liars are a different story."

His gaze flickered dangerously then from his nails back to the blonde's blue irises.

@Gerald Fawkes

The nerve. The sheer audacity of the redhead to attempt such a bold move on him. Was Burnett trying to turn his own words against him? Truly unbelievable.

For an instant, Gerald was at a loss for words. He cursed his luck twice: of all the people Thaddeus could have spilled his secret to, he'd had the misfortune of telling this particular individual. Outrageously manipulative, infuriatingly sneaky. It almost felt as if Burnett had made it his duty to fulfill every single stereotype regarding Slytherins' sly nature.

When Jack's eyes fell on his scratched hands, amazed by the anatomy of his fingers all of a sudden, Gerald considered clearing out; turning around and walking out on the other boy just like that, for dramatic effect. He'd leave Burnett to ponder over the surely terrible consequences of his insulting ways; the worrisome thinking would eat him alive, never knowing when to expect Gerald's retaliation.

He was pretty much ready to pull a grand exit, side of the robe clutched in his left hand for him to flap it with a swish as he turned to go. But then, the redhead devil spoke again. For some reason, his voice sounded to Gerald much more irritating now than it had at the start of their conversation.

'However... liars are a different story.'

Not only was he implying that Gerald was a liar— which, fair enough, he kind of was —, but he also intended to blackmail him? It took the blonde kid a titanic effort not to lose his composure right then and there. The whole secret thing could be damned, reached this point; this was a personal attack, one dirty mission to make a fool out of him. And he had no choice but to respond accordingly.

Jack's gaze felt like a sharp slap on the face. Defying. He was onto some kind of game Gerald hadn't the slightest intention of playing.

The taller boy checked behind his back. The Dungeons were dark and empty, and for that he was glad; what he was about to say next certainly did not need witnesses.

"I'll be generous enough as to warn you now, Burnett," he said, cocky, restraining his tone from conveying nothing but serenity. Unfortunately, the efforts invested on his voice distracted him from smoothing the rest of his expression, and his eyes kept on shooting daggers at Jack.

He felt tempted to take a few steps further; by standing that close to Jack, he would be practically forcing the redhead to look up at him. Eventually, he decided to maintain their distance.

"You can either cut the crap or you can go on with this little nonsense of yours to try make my life harder. Know that, if you commit the mistake of choosing the latter, I'll try my best to top your efforts and make your life just as complicated. And when I set my mind on something, I go all the way."

Gerald's inspected the other's expression carefully, lips pursed into a thin, grim line.

"So, do reconsider your options."

@Jack Burnett

Utilizing every possible ounce of his self-control, Jack was just barely able to keep a silent, straight face until the final word of Gerald's warning. After that, what first slipped out as an unruly snort soon erupted into another bout of ostentatious laugher.

"Generous?" he repeated once he had gathered enough of his wits to reply coherently. "Warn me? Fawkes, princess, I don't think you understand who you're talking to. I'm the mudblood known school-wide for making enemies as a hobby. Everyone's so simple-minded around here, I get bored. If you try to complicate my life, you'll be doing me a favor. But you know, with how many people I've gotten to hate my guts, you might have to get in line."

At the prospect of Gerald 'going all the way', Jack's eyes brightened and his grin broadened, lighting up his face from within like a child on Christmas morning. "Do you mean it? Promise?" he asked, and at that moment, it seemed impossible to determine if he was simply mocking the blonde or honestly just that hopeful that the other boy might provide him with some sort of challenge. But then his face fell as he remembered something else.

"...You still didn't answer my question," he pointed out with a pout. "Is it you or Wigginworth who is the liar? Give me your reply and I'll give you mine."

@Gerald Fawkes

Jack Burnett's strange tendency of laughing at incredibly inappropriate times was starting to get under Gerald's skin. Threats were no joking matter; much more so if the threats in question had been uttered by him. He clenched his jaws and furrowed his brow; every single muscle on his face was one stupidity away from being torn out of tension.

Upon being addressed as 'princess', he felt the rudest, most uncivil names climbing up his burning throat. Before he got the chance of opening his mouth, though, he heard Burnett referring to himself as a 'mudblood'. He thought, then, that a boy who willingly used such hideous slurs on his person would most likely take little to no offense in whatever insults were directed his way. And so Gerald chose not to waste his breath over it.

In line? To antagonize him? The blonde kid blinked twice. Burnett's initial monologue on his hatred for friendship was starting to make a lot of sense.

'Do you mean it? Promise?'

As surprising as it may sound, it was only then that Gerald realized he was no longer annoyed or irritated. Not even angry. He was furious. Despite being fully aware that it had been Jack's intention all along to have him reach that point of rage, he couldn't help but feel absolutely irked.

"I'll have an oath sworn on that, if you'd like," he said through gritted teeth.

The already chalk-white skin of his knuckles was beginning to turn pretty much translucent from the clenching. Obviously, Gerald did not think their argument, however heated it might be getting— at least for him —, would escalate into a physical fight. As a general rule, non-verbal altercations were, according to the blonde boy, an absurd display of idiocy as well as a good enough motive for getting expelled. Then again, Gerald also knew that, in the highly improbable case that things got unbearably bad, a flick of the wand tucked inside his robe would do so much more than a fist to the nose.

Almost immediately, he pushed the idea away, genuinely bothered by the fact that he had even let it cross his mind.

'Is it you or Wiggenworth who is the liar? Give me your reply and I'll give you mine.'

The sound of Jack's voice woke him from his brief thinking trance and Gerald noticed that his eyes, although fixed on the redhead, were not looking at him but past him. He redirected his gaze and straightened himself.

"I am," he responded, plainly, feeling surrendered all of a sudden; anger tended to be an ephemeral emotion within Gerald. He wouldn't be forgetting about Jack's offensive mocking any time in the foreseeable future, but, as for now, he didn't feel like quarreling further.

"I transfigured the rat," came out his mumbled confession, "accidentally, of course."

Clearing his throat, he added, "Now you talk."

@Jack Burnett

Had Jack known Gerald's thought process regarding his deduction of what impact (or lack thereof) that insults and name-calling would have on the redhead, he would have undoubtedly been impressed. Even as things stood, the fact that the blonde was still able to keep his temper under control despite it obviously requiring a great deal of effort on his part had already earned him a place of high regard and deep respect in Jack's books. This first year was certainly one of the more wise and clever Slytherins he had met to be sure. Not that the redhead was about to let Gerald realize that so easily.

His peer's offer to 'swear an oath' only caused Jack's delight to spike, regarding the other boy with newfound interest. He didn't miss the tautness of the skin across Gerald's knuckles, of course, nor the words pushed out through gritted teeth. But tell-tale signs of such thinly-suppressed rage only caused Jack to admire his peer's resolve all the more. There was just one thing left that still irked him about the taller Slytherin, but that was soon resolved.

When Gerald owned up to his lie, Jack's entire demeanor visibly transformed. He straightened in his stance, his grin softening into something much more mild and sincere than his hostile, taunting one prior. Jack nodded respectfully in acknowledgment of the other boy's honesty as well as his request that Jack now be the one to talk. Talking, after all, was what he liked to think he did best.

"For telling me the truth, I give you my word that I'll keep your secret. But I'd also like to mention that I know a thing or two about how tricky transfiguration can be," he said, his voice low with true empathy.

"I used to have difficulty transfiguring things into creatures and vice-versa. Didn't like the idea of giving inanimate objects life or granting them sentience when they weren't supposed to have any; same for taking it away."

He met his fellow Slytherin's blue eyes. "That's why, when I found the squeaking teacup wandering around the dungeons, I wasn't sure what to do. I immobilized it to catch it, but after that, I didn't know whether to transfigure it back into a teacup or a rat because I wasn't sure what its original form was." The shorter first year cast Gerald a sheepish smirk.

"I was about to go up to try to see if our Transfiguration professor, Professor Lian, would be able to help me figure out the mystery when your portrait pal, Wiggenworth, saw the teacup in my possession and commented on it. He mentioned you and your story and I'm damn grateful he did because I doubt I would have been able to sort the mess out otherwise."

Jack gave Gerald a sideways look. "I'm guessing you didn't give him much of a chance to tell you about our exchange or you might have known that before you came to find me. Anyway, I changed the rat back, returned it to its owner, and no harm was done." He reached out to playfully pat Gerald on the shoulder, unable to resist just a little more teasing.

"I like you, Fawkes. You're smart and driven; I can see that now. But you almost fooled me because the way I see it, only the most idiotic cowards lie." He winked then. "Clever ones know how to deceive, persuade, and imply what they want others to believe by twisting the truth and bending rules. Not breaking them." He laughed. "After all...there has to be some semblance of order for one to be able to reach the top of it, yeah?"

@Gerald Fawkes