Polishing Old Trophies PV Clifton Troublefield

Clifton hurried down the hall as quickly as he could without drawing attention. He was already late, his roommate having found the note before he did. It wasn’t until Clifton had taken the boy’s special journal-book hostage that he’d finally handed it over--along with a grumpy opinion that Clifton should’ve been in Slytherin.

He might have countered that his jealous roommate wasn’t exactly the Hufflepuff prefect himself, sometimes. But when he saw what time she wanted to meet, he’d only stuffed the note in his pocket and hurried back down to the main floor of the dorms.

Clifton now adjusted his bag and rounded the corner to the trophy room where he saw Alina waiting.

“Sorry,” he groaned. “I got your note late. Nearly had to tackle my roommate.”

Then, seeing the spread of amazingly-ridiculous trophies and decorations she’d brought along, he laughed.

“You never do anything halfway, do you?”

He slid his bag from his shoulder and began digging through it. “I guess I kinda dropped the ball on decorations. I mean, I have a bunch of googly eyes that fell off a craft my sister sent me, but that’s about it. I've been trying to catch up on stuff now that--according to you--I'm coming back next year. I did bring snacks though. I figured it’s my turn.”

He took out the treats he’d snagged from the snackbar they had in his part of the dorms, including all the lemon-flavored variety he could find. He then grabbed one of the banana-shaped trophies and began looking around the room for his first victim to replace it with.

“What do we do with the real ones? I guess we could make a scavenger hunt out of it and put them in weird places. Maybe add notes to whoever finds them? Kind of like that beginning of the year thing we were supposed to do.”

“Or we could stack them and make a giant trophy sculpture. What do you think?”

Whatever they decided, Clifton could already tell this was going to be good.

"I like the stacking idea," she said and came to look at those googly eyes he mentioned and she smiled widely. "Clive, these are amazing! We have to find just the right trophy to put them on." She tried them out, resting them just where they should be on one and began laughing hysterically.

"Sorry, sorry...I'm going to get us caught before we even get started!" She then left them on that one for now as she went to grab one of the lemon flavored treats. Did he know her or did he know her? "Now we can't replace them all either." Obviously. There were CENTURIES of history in that room. "So I figure when someone walks past casually they'll think nothing is out of place. However, if someone were to actually come IN and take a look around," as she had the other day, "then they'd be in for a right surprise."

"Oh but first, come. Come!" She came back over to him and grabbed his hand, leading him over to the quidditch cases and trophies. "See there? Apparently my father played." She showed him one of a Charles Rosier, Slytherin House, Quality Sportsmanship On and Off The Quidditch Pitch. Now that made her tilt her head a little. Sportsmanship. Wasn't that like...helping others and being kind? Didn't seem so Slytherin and didn't seem so her father.

The googly eyes picture




Clifton looked at the name Charles Rosier, and his brows furrowed in thought as he tried to piece together the two different ideas he had of the man. The man he could possibly meet this summer. Turncoat husband and neglectful father. And sportsmanship champion. Was it possible to be both? Or was the guy an even bigger fraud than he already sounded like?

It made Clifton want to find the missing puzzle pieces. For now, at least, he gave simply stayed by Alina's side. She looked deep in thought and he didn't want to interrupt.

Well. That was a lie. Clifton always wanted to interrupt. To know what she was thinking or hear her quirky thoughts and ideas. But something in his gut said this wasn't his territory. Not yet. This went back her entire life and--even though it didn't feel like it sometimes--he'd really only known her for a few months. As his parents were constantly reminding him, there were times when curiosity killed the nosy eleven-year-old.

After a long moment, she seemed to come back and Clifton gave her hand a small squeeze.

"Maybe we should keep his there?"

"Most definitely!" she spoke up, glad that he broke the silence because she did NOT want to be thinking of her father or summer or any of the hellish thoughts that would sometimes keep her up at night. Her time there at Hogwarts was limited and she hated that this would be the end to their first year. First year. Not last. No, she was determined when she got her mind set on something and she was set on 1) Clifton Troublefield would return to Hogwarts next year and 2) so would she.

"We've got to make sure it's all done randomly but also doesn't point to us in any way. Like...we can't touch his, nor can we single out the Hufflepuffs or anything like that. And no going around trying to find the other Cliftons that have been at this school because, sorry, darling, I don't think there will be any." She grinned as she looked his way, just teasing.

While she did refer to him so far as Mr. Troublefield or Clive, she did like the name Clifton. It was a name she thought of many, many times throughout the day and maybe she had even scripted it out on a note or two.

“That’s probably a good thing,” he admitted with a laugh. It was the last thing a school full of secrets needed. More snoops like him.

Clifton caught her looking over at him and, despite how good friends they were and how much time they'd spent together, he felt slight color rise to his cheeks. He didn't know why. He'd thought that once the secret was out and two people knew they liked each other that some of that silly shy, blushy, sweaty-hand stuff went away. Because you already knew. But every once awhile she'd catch him off guard and it was like they were back in the Common Room trying to figure out what to do with a slow song.

He cleared his throat. "That sounds like a good plan. It’s a good thing you’re in charge of this, I’d probably have us caught before we were even finished.”

His selection of trophies to replace was mostly random. Mostly. He did tend to favor those that seemed extra gaudy or pompous, but he made sure to leave a few of those in their place. He also tried to find ones that matched the general shape and size of whatever fake trophy he had in his hand, such as a Care for Magical Creatures award swap for the fake goat trophy.

Clifton then began trying to find a home for a pair of remaining, tiny googly eyes. He decided on the gold figurine atop a Hufflepuff quidditch trophy, laughed a little to himself, and then went back to rejoin Alina.

“And I didn’t even knock over one case,” he joked. “They should give me a trophy just for that, after this year.”

Crashing trolleys, losing track of his chocolate frog, getting eaten alive by Cornish pixies, falling over chairs in the common room, almost knocking over the stool at the Sorting Ceremony only to knock over his drink instead. These days, he wondered how he even did sports. His parents kept telling him it was just growing pains. Clifton hoped so. According to them, his feet forecasted a lot of height, but Clifton still hadn’t caught up to some of his roommates. Secretly, he was grateful Alina was as tiny as she was. And as a patient.

He leaned up against the table where they’d placed their decorations and surveyed the damage.

“Not bad,” he laughed. Then, remembering what she had told him at the dance, added. “You have the BEST ideas, Miss Rosier.”

"You deserve a trophy, Mr. Troublefield," she agreed as she came over to gather the last bit of supplies - rather evidence - from where they stood. "And not for your lack of clumsiness, but because you're wonderful," he looked her way again and she watched him. It was amazing the way that boy could make her feel. He really was the best.

And while they would visit one another, she was going to hate not looking over a classroom full of students and seeing him often, or sitting next to him at the Hufflepuff table during meal times. "Off topic, but you better write me too over the summer," she snapped. "You can play your football and have fun but you don't get to go off forgetting about me."

"And I don't know what's on the plans yet next but before we leave for the summer, I think you and I should plan a picnic in the Common Room," since it was where they met. "It'll be to commemorate us."

Us. She said that as if they were some couple but they could be an 'us' as in friends or best friends. She glanced down though feeling rather embarrassed. Only momentarily because she reminded herself this was Clifton Troublefield and she never had to not feel comfortable with him and she looked back up. Yes, to commemorate them because crush, girlfriend, friend, or best friend, ...whatever it was he thought, she was glad to be someone he shared his time with.

"Are you kidding, of course I'll write you! And I promise my handwriting is better when I'm not using those dumb feather quill things." Not by much, but he could work on it.

"And I won't forget you at camp," he smiled, finding her hand almost out of habit now. "Actually, I'm more worried my coaches are going to think I forgot football." He was probably going to be the most distracted kid on the field, knowing that camp was further away than her house. Maybe he could use the sports as something to help the time go faster.

"And I don't know what's on the plans yet next but before we leave for the summer, I think you and I should plan a picnic in the Common Room. It'll be to commemorate us."

Us. He didn't know what it meant yet--his bond with Alina had deepened so fast he felt like he was still catching his breath--but he liked the sound of it.

"Sounds like fun," he smiled. "Maybe we can try that swimming in the lake idea and then dry off by the fire. But I mean, you apparently have several swimming pools so we could save the swimming for summer too."

Clifton found that he really didn't care one way or the other. He knew they'd have fun. She probably could've suggested they hop a couple hippogriffs and fly to Egypt for a couple weeks and he would've agreed just as casually. Things were just so uncomplicated in their friendship.

Not like his friends and their drama, though he probably needed to stop comparing them to her. They were great kids and he owed some of his best childhood memories to them. But in the back of his mind he knew that Alina would probably meet them this summer. And he hoped they wouldn't be idiots in front of the girl who knew more classic literature than they did TikToks.

"I've also been thinking. Maybe we can find a hiding place for notes. Something where only we know what it is. Like..." he picked up one of the lemon-flavored candies thoughtfully. "Like this. You know, use that reparo spell we learned to fix the packaging. But no matter what we use it has to be something lemon flavored so we know what it is when we see it. Or I could use one of my cassette tapes, but it might make too many people curios." He shook his head and put the candy down with a short laugh. "That, or find my roommate a date."

"He can have Bella," she offered up her sister without another thought. Alina had lots of friends that were girls but none seemed to be into boys yet. There were always those ones that were ready earlier than the others, the wave that came mostly at the same time, and then some stragglers. Alina, before the school year began, would have said she really didn't care either way, but now...now she was quite taken by boys, one in particular.

"I like that idea of a secret note system. Then you won't have to be late anymore and we could have had an extra ten minutes to spend together. One never knows what they might have missed out on lost time with someone," and because it had been too long since she kissed his lips or he kissed her cheek in The Great Hall with EVERYONE there, she lifted herself up and kissed him gently.

"Let me think on that note idea. I'll eat anything lemon so it can't be that...." she laughed, but it was true! "And you're right, a cassette tape would spark too much curiosity. What about..." she paused and skipped over to her bag. She pulled out one of the origami badgers she had made for the origami challenge in The Great Hall previously that year and the same paper sort of badger she used to help decorate their refreshment table for their Secret Secret Blossom Ball. "What if I teach you how to make one of these? Until we learn more magic....we can write up our message, fold it up into one of these?"

Clifton laughed when she'd volunteered Bella. But, as always, it also made him more curious. He knew the two weren't on the best terms right now, thanks to the sorting ceremony. But other than that, and the prank wars he'd learned about, he really didn't know much about Alina's twin. He figured he would soon enough when he came to visit and he wondered how that would go.

"I like that idea of a secret note system. Then you won't have to be late anymore and we could have had an extra ten minutes to spend together." She looked up at him, a soft sort of look in her eyes. "One never knows what they might have missed out on lost time with someone."

He felt her grip the collar of his robe and then go up on her toes. And--again--before he could make sense of it, she was kissing him. And--again--before he could do much about it, she was gone. He was going to have to get more used to that.

The brief brush of her lips set his brain back a few steps and he didn't really hear the next few words she said. But he pieced the idea together when she handed him a little paper badger.

He laughed, pressing the creatures' little snout. "You made this? I knew you'd have some better ideas. Though I can't guarantee mine will always look like a badger."

"Here," he handed it back to her. Then seated himself on the table, leaving room for her to climb up next to him. "Show me."

And this time, Clifton wouldn't miss his chance.

Before long, he had something mostly resembling a badger. It actually looked better than he'd expected. Probably more of a compliment to her talent of explaining things than his talent of folding paper.


"You know, there's this one cassette my dad has," he said, flicking the tail of his badger. "I always thought one of the songs had the weirdest title, but now I think I get it."

She looked over at him in interest, waiting for him to finish. And Clifton resolved that no matter how corny it came out, he was too far in to go back now.

"It's called 'When I kissed the teacher,'" he laughed softly, already leaning toward her. Then, still a little nervous, he closed the distance and briefly returned the kiss.

Already head over heels and not even twelve for another two months. It was a good thing trophies weren't as animated as the portraits or he was certain the Charles Rosier one would've dragged itself across the room and slugged him.