Fin Quiet Questions PV Flash

While still technically early in the school year, time ticked away fervently. Hours to days, to months… for all his aspirations, he had to start somewhere. He knew the value of patience when it came to learning, but he always felt chased by the shadow of the doubt that he could be doing something more. For instance, the Masquerade Ball was going to take place that day, but Flash couldn’t see the value in going. A big gathering with lots of people should have been something he felt comfortable in, since his upbringing had practically centered around them. He wasn’t in the mood for something like that. Without really having any connections, he would only be standing off to the side listening to other people talk anyway.

He might as well just study.

At the very least, he expected the library to be less trafficked with so many students preparing for the ball. He could expect an unsurpassed level of solitude. He would have liked it even more to just take the books with him outside as was his childhood custom, but there were strict rules about checking out and damaging books. He didn’t want to even risk the smallest chance of disciplinary rebuttal, he still wasn’t used to how different Hogwarts was from his school growing up. For all he knew, they turned people into pigs and ate them when they misbehaved. He wasn’t going to feel comfortable anywhere until he had more information.

His errant thought giving him an idea, he thought he would concentrate on transfiguration that day. He was starting to grasp some of what Professor Lian said, but it was more complex of a subject than could be contained in short lessons. If he was going to ever be turned into a pig, he wanted to know what kind of agency his mind would have left-- would he be imprisoned in the pig body, unable to speak?

Learning more would calm his fear, but until then, he would have to build up his repertoire. Basics first. He had been suggested a book by one of his acquaintances in his Transfiguration class, one called Quality in Form, that explained the connection between magic and physical transformation. He strolled over to the Q section to pluck it from its nest.

Observing the cover and turning it around in his hands a few times, he suddenly noticed a form in the rocking chair towards the end of the shelving. The form was so concealed that it was hard to tell much of anything about who it was. They didn’t seem to be bothering anyone anyway, as long as they didn’t suddenly start snoring.

Assuming the lone visitor was asleep, Flash started paging through the book, too interested in browsing through the table of contents to even take a seat.

@Sylvain Indarys

In a moment of the purest serenity, Sylvain refused to look over at his inner-sanctum’s newest interloper. The footsteps had stopped. Perhaps, no, he was certain the person on the other side of his authored aegis had stopped and started to mill about the lobby. He was seriously beginning to contemplate proceeding with plan X until he encountered an intense desire to inspect the obtrusion. He delicately peered up from atop, his shielding tome protecting his mouth from view as his eyes peeped above the hefty publication’s brim. Sylvain immediately recognized the boy’s name as Demetrius Holmwood. A fellow first year classmate that was sorted into the Slytherin House. Sylvain focused on the stranger’s frame meticulously for a moment.

“Drat,” Sylvain complained to himself in thought.

The boy appeared to be standing calmly in place perusing one of the library’s newer additions and in the Q section no less! What was it the novice serpent had chosen to read on a night so busy already? Quality in Form? That was a tome the young scholar didn’t recognize. Sylvain would have scrutinize its composition once the jock withdrew. If Demetrius wasn’t causing him any issues, then Sylvain didn’t have a legitimate reason to complain anymore. He would stay for now. All he had desire to do was sate his curiosity anyways.

Had the boy come here seeking refuge from tonight’s special event, or was he just searching for a quiet place to read? Sylvain wasn’t particularly interested in going dancing either, so the possibility seemed…

“Drat,” Sylvain repeated in his thoughts, while squirming back down into his chair.

Sylvain had forgotten to mind his manners and continued to stare at the brightly dressed youth while lost in thought. At least he had stopped gawking now. Sylvain remained hopeful that Demetrius hadn’t seen him, but all those thoughts had come pouring out of a buried trench in his head, their arrival apparently the exit of his etiquette. The glance stealing child wanted to heave, and take another look, but the knot in his stomach and the feeling of his heart excavating its way out of his chest convinced him to keep hiding behind his book. Hopefully he could finish his reading and take leave soon, hopefully the other boy wouldn’t bother him the way Sylvain had nearly done to him.

@Flash Holmwood

Flash was never quite wholly unaware of his surroundings, he would never hear the end of it if he got caught off guard by something he ought to have noticed. That was why when the hat of the shrouded stranger tipped up, the movement gave reason for Flash to peek over. It was a boy, probably about his age, peering over the book intently with searching blue eyes. What he was looking for was unclear, besides perhaps to also take note of his own surroundings.

It seemed at least that Flash had been wrong about his state of consciousness. He should have been more careful, who knew what he could have accomplished under the guise of being a harmlessly sleepy student. Flash needed to remember to not assume things so quickly, even though he didn't yet have a reputation worth spying on him for. It was good to learn these lessons early, before they became downfalls.

His quick glance didn’t tell him much of anything, though it was enough. The fact that he was in the library at all bespoke a certain sense of camaraderie with Flash, neither of them were more interested in the ball than they were with furthering their education. The enormous book on his lap was lifted up enough that one could see the title, A Gargantuan Guide to Giant Geography. While Flash had no interest in the subject himself, he could commend anyone willing to dig into a big book without fear. The more information, the better.

The boy snapped back to it, acting as though he hadn’t been looking. It hardly mattered, he at least didn’t sputter out some excuse or trip through an introduction. Strange, though, that he decided to sit in the Q section, a long walk away from G. Flash wouldn’t waste his time on enumerating the possibilities as to why, however. As long as he stayed quiet, he was a welcome companion. With that, Flash continued his perusal of the book, only keeping an eye out for the boy a short while longer, before realizing the rules of engagement had been properly established and he would have nothing more to fear.

@Sylvain Indarys

Backdated: December 24th, 2019

While most of the students were away on winter holiday, Flash had little else to do but catch up with his studying. It wasn’t as though he ever exhausted the list of things he wanted to know more about. The unfathomable depth of knowledge was part of its desirable draw. Humans would be wiped off the face of the planet before they knew even a fraction of the mysteries left to be solved. The allure of such a noble pursuit was intoxicating for an active brain like Flash’s, and he was almost grateful for the break from the eavesdropping and networking so that he could spend some time in solitude with books.

The generations before him having put so much effort into sharing their wealth of knowledge, he would be remiss to not take advantage of it. He lamented to think of a world where knowledge died with the person who learned it. Then again, he didn’t want to travel down that line of thinking too far. He was already in a bad mood for the season.

He had chosen to stay at Hogwarts, even though there was nothing keeping him from returning home. He just wasn’t ready to face his family yet, only to sit quietly at the table and tell them that nothing had happened at school yet. Staying and using the libraries’ resources was a more efficient use of his time. He could forget about the little things that worried him if he was submerged in text.

He plucked out something from the shelves he normally wouldn’t-- some fiction. At the end of the day, it was a holiday, and he had been studying quite a lot. Not wanting to re-read any of the books he had brought along with him, he asked one of the house elves where he could find some Muggle fiction. Not a popular genre in the Hogwarts library, but there were a few to select from. One in particular made him glad that he had asked-- And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. It was an incredible popular mystery novel by an acclaimed author, though he hadn’t had the chance to read any of her stories yet. He was glad it had made the cut, he would likely read the whole thing before the day was over.

Before going off to read in peace, nearly the entire school being pleasantly abandoned, he had a curious thought. He walked casually through the shelves, stopping at J when his eyes found his conquest. He was in the library reading, as always, his silent companion, Sylvain Indarys.

After multiple occasions of bumping into him in the stacks, Flash had started to actively seek him out. He would always either be in J, Q, or X it seemed. Unlike the multitudes of other classmates, Sylvain never caused him an ounce of trouble. He was content to read quietly, an attribute Flash wished more would acquire. He had even gone through the trouble of asking around for his name, though no one seemed to know who he was. It was likely he never spoke a word to anyone. Flash could almost be jealous of that, though he wasn’t sure why that feeling of all things rose in him. With enough prying he had finally found it out, though he probably wouldn’t have gone searching had he known what an effort it would take. Still, once he had started looking he couldn’t stop until the answer was found. As though it had done him any good.

He had no reason to sit next to Syl that day, but on the same coin, it was nice to have company. Especially silent company. He almost felt moved to ask why he had also chosen to spend his holiday in Hogwarts, but that would only invite a discussion about his own reasons that he didn’t want to have. Instead, he sat down beside him at the table, cracking open the book to begin his journey.

He wondered what Sylvain was reading… Confusing Concoctions and other Mind Altering Potions, a fascinating topic. He would have to read that one as well, though it was technically beyond either of their syllabuses for first year Potions. It didn’t make it any less important of a subject worth knowing. Flash added it to the mental list.



@Sylvain Indarys

More than the total number of corrections allowed needed to be made on his homework if Sylvain wanted to get a head start on Potions class next semester. For the left behind student this meant studying over winter break. Several of his classmates were already making great strides in the laboratory, and they would be advantaged during the summer if they opted to stay on school grounds while Herbology was in full swing. This meant Sylvain would need to know what they knew then, and the opportunity ahead meant he needed to know it now.

His study sessions in the library were still his favorite. All the Castle’s various lore and knowledge were available to him at his whimsy. He had developed a routine. First, he must stop at the librarian’s desk and hand a note listing the various books he wanted to read that day. Next he would find a place to sit and read, whether it be J, Q or X sections. Then, once he was comfortable, and only then, would he retrieve the tomes in secret. This process was becoming near autonomous, as today he found himself at J sitting with Confusing Concoctions and other Mind Altering Potions on the lectern in front of him. It was a good read, but he admittedly didn’t need to know it for another month or so.

His decision to sit through the lazy snoring of the nearby dozing elf paid dividends when he heard footsteps approaching. Most of the school had been cleared out for a few days now, and Sylvain thought he had seen Demetrius walking the halls earlier yesterday. With the hope that the other boy had noticed him, he chose to come to the library, later today than the past few days, while intentionally keeping the schedule the two shared during classes. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t hope the footsteps belonged to Demetrius. Sure enough, as he passed the last aisle of articles, Demetrius arrived looking almost triumphant. Sylvain did his best to try and hide his smile as Demetrius sat down next to him.

The mistakenly judged extrovert was more than capable of sharing silence with Sylvain, and Sylvain was reluctant to pass up an opportunity to contribute to such a productive environment. Not only was the cautious youth quiet and gentle with the texts, but he was mindful of his space, and seemed to scare away the older library elves. Not only had Demetrius been keeping up with his own studies as a good student should, but also the youth dove, optionally, into several serious topics the school hadn’t approached this semester. Sylvain had noticed that Demetrius selected a book quite unlike the topics the two usually read within the vellum palace.

“He’s reading an Agatha Christie book?” Sylvain thought. It hadn’t occurred to him that the desire to solve mysteries lived within Demetrius as well.

Sylvain had already been reading over Holmwood’s shoulder for most of the book. It was about the third murder before the mystery had completely overridden any desire to study Sylvain had left. Mind-racing alongside his heart’s desperate fluttering, Sylvain had come to a conclusion, he truly felt as though he had solved the mystery, just as any possibility of there being any closure was unlikely. How odd it seemed to him, an unsolved mystery. He didn’t much like it, yet there was something more entrancing about the way the unsolved mystery made him feel.

Before turning the next to last page, Sylvain slowly he lifted his gaze up to meet his reading companions, his eyes brimming with eagerness to debate the culprit.

@Flash Holmwood

The mystery of the lone mansion on an island, strangers all trapped, unable to leave-- it engaged Flash so that he took no note at all of the peering eyes over his shoulder. There were so many interesting elements-- the rich, complex characters, their motivations and history, what brought them to the mysterious island with its unseen host. Impossible murders, anyone could be the culprit, and then-- well, there were none. Everyone died.

There were a few pages left in the story with no outright explanation of the murders. The epitaph at the beginning had sung the fate of everyone there, sentenced to death.

Flash’s gaze was inexorably drawn by the feeling of eyes on him. When he looked up, Sylvain was looking right at him. What did it mean… Flash scanned his face for clues. His mind was already spinning with scrutiny, so the conclusion came quickly. His face looked like how he felt. He felt so sure of it, he skipped the useless pretense of asking.

”It was the judge. Everyone on the island was an unconvicted criminal.” Flash blurted out his theory. ”The hanging judge, right? Even he himself was guilty of crime. A man of justice, he takes them all down with him. A final act of penance, perhaps.”

Sylvain nodded along in agreement, clearly having come to the same conclusion. Encouraged, Flash had so much more to say.

”I can’t figure out how, I have to look back… no I should finish first but… I don’t see how he did it.” Flash started muttering, trying to remember the details of Justice Wargrave’s death.

”Perhaps he used alchemy or mixed a draught, for instance, the Draught of Living Death. He could have appeared deceased and then arisen later to continue the rest of the murders, killing himself after the acts.” Sylvain posited a legitimate theory, flipping to the page of the potion he spoke of in the book that was lying open uselessly in front of him.

Flash face scrunched, knowing that Sylvain was missing important context.

”Ah, no, this is a muggle book. Using any kind of supernatural element, or something that would be too complex for the average reader to understand the mechanics of, well, it breaks one of the rules in Knox’s Decalogue.” Flash’s eyes darted around the ceiling as he tried to remember exactly how it went, but it had been a while since he read them. Without the internet, it wasn’t likely he would find an easy reference to it in Hogwarts.

Giving up on finding the precise wording, his gaze fell back to Sylvain, who now bore a look of wonderment.

”Knox’s Decalogue?” He asked, leaning into the conversation intently.

Spontaneously, the two found themselves in the middle of a conversation, as though they had been speaking all along. Flash knew Sylvain was a curious, knowledgeable type, not to mention fond of categorization and classification. It was no wonder he would be interested in a list of rules.

”Father Knox’s Decalogue: The Ten Rules of Detective Fiction.” Flash smiled, stating the information clearly. ”No, before that, I want to see the ending.”

Flash returned to the book and turned the page. As it turned out, Justice Wargrave had left a letter in a bottle detailing the truth of his crimes. If he hadn’t done so, the world would have never known what had happened on that island. He wanted the world to know the truth, or at least his version of the truth. Flash could appreciate the authors deft handling of the themes of the story. He barely noticed the time pass by.

Time continued passing in a blur as they discussed the story, paging back through it and scrutinizing the details of the murders and how they were pulled off. They had to stop when the head librarian tapped Flash’s shoulder insisting the two go to bed. Neither of them had spoken a word about themselves, or why they had suddenly started talking. The entire conversation hinged on discussion, then was rudely interrupted.

For the rest of the night, he pondered the great insights Sylvain had made, also retrospectively feeling a bit strange about how they still had not yet been properly introduced. Perhaps it didn’t matter, perhaps they were both better off exactly the way things were. It was certainly the most interesting conversation he had had since arriving at school. He only wished he could continue to unload some of the new thought he had while he was alone, but the moment was gone.

@Sylvain Indarys

Backdated: March 4th, 2020

Sylvain picked the oldest table in the X section to sit down and study. There were a few students at J and Q this afternoon, so he had been forced to resort to his least favorite of the three options available to him. Regardless of the seating, the tables provided an opportunity to spread out his belongings and research materials. It was the perfect place in the library for the fanatical researcher to get some of his bulkiest exploration out of the way. Discreetly, he located a library elf and requested his list of books be delivered to the tables.

• A Short Wizard's Guide to Long Lasting Friendships
• Quiet Questions
• Method to the Madness
• Hogwarts Archived: Alchemy Edition
• Sorting It All Step One: How to Classify Almost Anything

As the house elf reappeared, Sylvain observed that only four of the five requested books were bound in its arms.

"Didn't have Method to the Madness Master Indarys," The apologetic assistant spoke up, "I am sincerely sorry for the lacking, but it appears as though another student has yet to return it."

With a nod of acknowledgement, and a dismissive wave of his hand, the helpful librarian aide disappeared among the litany of literature. This was the precise rationale that caused him to write the letter to Demetrius. Not only had Sylvain desired to read Method to the Madness for the better part of a week, but his concern swelled with each evening spent in the library alone. Worried for his absent ally, Sylvain sat down in the rickety chair provided by the library. He had quilled a letter to the quiet reading companion of his just yesterday. Had Holmwood already forgotten that the library assistants would track him down to retrieve the books if he failed to return them promptly? Worse yet, had something happened to the sincerely studious youth Sylvain so dearly wanted to call a friend?

Dismissing the anxiety, or rather setting it aside for later inquiry, Sylvain began to sprawl the tomes so dutifully retrieved for him out onto the long tables that occupied the X section of Hogwart's Library. A Short Wizard’s Guide to Long Lasting Friendships was admittedly a tome he had requested hoping his colleague would notice and connect the dots. He began attempting to drop the hint at his own interest for friendship between the two scholars for a couple weeks now, a tip given to him in Chapter 6: A Shy Sorcerer’s Advice. This new desire to form friendship with Demetrius had been kindled after the two shared Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None,” over the winter break. This winter break was Sylvain’s first and fondest interaction with another student since his arrival at Hogwarts.

Sylvain’s other tomes were far more serious, and the texts had everything to do with how he intended to spend the rest of his school year studying, as already, Sylvain had begun to loathe the summer break looming in the not so distant future. As the young wizard retrieved his parchment and quill to begin taking notes, Sylvain heard what sounded like another student, angrily marching towards him. Calmly, Sylvain turned to see Demetrius, face contorted with anger and balled in his fist was a letter.

@Flash Holmwood

Flash had only just unentangled himself with the crying form of his good friend Opeila, the fear and anxiety growing and his disturbed sleep schedule began to knock at the door of his weary soul. The screams of the Slytherins, even their prefect calling for her mother through her sobs of pain, echoed in Flash’s thoughts alongside the inescapable specter of the sickly black poison he watched be injected into Opeila’s legs. Whether she would be okay, whether anyone in the castle was safe, was a staccato pressure on his temple, banging against his impatience for being so incapable of helping.

It was in this moody delirium that an owl unceremoniously dropped a letter on his head, flying off before Flash could see it. Picking it up off the floor where it fell, he was surprised by two things immediately. It was handwriting he didn’t recognize, and the name he didn’t tell anyone. Instead of curiosity, Flash was filled with so much dread as to think opening the letter would kill him on the spot. Only his family, the faculty, and the people of Durham knew his real name. Well, and Burnett, but he was unlikely to go around telling it to anyone, and he would have recognized his handwriting from the last horrible letter he got from him.

His hands shaking slightly, he removed the letter, unfolding it gingerly as to not unleash any poisons that might be inside. As his eyes read it in a panic, his heart dropped. Not in fear, but in anger. It was Sylvain of all people… and he was hounding after him for library books? Flash didn’t know how he knew his name, but he didn’t care. He hated having his heart played with, and he wanted retribution. He didn’t care that it was supposed to be a friendly reminder-- he would have snapped at anyone that crossed him.

He stormed off to the library, his head clouded with the things he wanted to yell at the bookworm. Once he got in, he marched all the way to the back of the stacks before he finally found the crook. He raised one finger, pointing at him accusingly.

”Who the hell do you think you are, calling me by that name?” As much as he wanted to scream, he kept his voice strict but low, like a parent scolding a child in public. ”I don’t need a pestering peabrain telling me when my library books are due. I have everything under control, so mind your own damn business and never-- NEVER-- call me by that name again!”

Flash slammed the letter on the table to punctuate the fury in his hissing words.

@Sylvain Indarys

Holmwood had stomped his way in here, and the assuredness of his posturing made Sylvain slightly uneasy. What had been done to upset the clever boy? Demetrius was visibly upset, which was an unusual observation for Sylvain to make about him. The other wizard’s hair was a tangled mess, his eyes puffy from crying, and the lack of sleep obvious in his stance. It had begun to feel like the student came here to harangue him. Sylvain immediately took a defensive stance, both intimidated by his classmate’s demeanor, and worried that he had done something to provoke an invective lecture. Sylvain’s assumptions were on the button, Holmwood had begun quietly shouting at him.

It took until the moment Holmwood’s palm and the letter in hand struck the long table, for Sylvain’s thoughts to catch up to the moment. With an expression of embarrassment on his face, the melancholy escapist puzzled to himself as he struggled to recount what Flash had just given to him in the third degree.

”Who the hell do you think you are, calling me by that name?”

Obviously he had outraged his now aggrieved associate, and the feelings that injured him and catalyzed him towards volatility were the direct consequences of Sylvain’s ignorance. As tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes, Sylvain could only just hide his shame. Deciding to be a bit more resolved, Sylvain settled for himself that this would be the last time he feared making introductions. With strength of will holding back a cerulean flood, Sylvain attempted to apologize.

“I-I am so sorry Mister Holmwood. I never intended to insult or expose you, I should have asked what you preferred to be called before sending you that letter,” Sylvain spoke softly, bottom lip near to quivering. “It was just that I became worried about you and I had heard….” The blue feeling of his earliest childhood memories beginning to wash over his cheeks like meager crystalline beads. He was alone in his weeping, albeit he was doing his best to hide it.

The childish insults that Holmwood hurled at him earlier fell flat, as by then Sylvain had already judged himself guilty for failing to ascertain, properly, his reading companion’s preferred name. An emotional outburst was to be expected from most other children, so Sylvain had not taken any offense nor would he ever take such personally. The only dilemma now was the actuality that Sylvain had memories built on a false name, a name that hurt someone he sincerely liked and that the injury was also his offense. The mental curator would correct those memories as soon as he learned the other boy’s name. Still, through his small fit of tearing up, Sylvain composed himself long enough to propose an ideal solution to his offended colleague. Sylvain had high hopes the two could salvage a friendship from the whole ordeal, that perhaps this argument might actually bring them closer, as in Chapter 12 of A Short Wizard’s Guide to Long Lasting Friendships, Dealing With Discord. He hoped to extend an olive branch in the form of revealing his own nickname, one only his mother knew.

“If the name the sorting hat spoke aloud during the sorting ceremony was wrong, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I apologize for my interference into your personal time and it was wrong of me to assume a level of familiarity based upon my desire to befriend you. I am Sylvain Indarys, although I would prefer that you called me Syl. I take it Demetrius is not your name, or at the least not a name to be repeated. I’ve never spoken as much to anyone as I have you. Would you please forgive me?” He extended his grubby hand out, the hand he had previously used to wipe away sweat from his forehead, and tears from his cheeks. His heart raced as the hand arrived at the end of the arm’s locomotion. He took a deep breath and smiled as best he could.

At the end of Sylvain's hand, for a brief moment, all outcomes of their relationship were possible. It was up to Flash to decide how he felt.

@Flash Holmwood