Errand May All Your Baubles Be Bright Finished

Date -> 1/12/24

Did the Vaughns celebrate christmas? Eh. up to debate. Was their home absolutely decked out in DIY every December? Abso-lutely! Origami, garlands, baubles, all hand painted and folded and placed in every corner of the already well decorated home, pushing on maximalist. Everything that wasn’t made by their own four hands was either gifted by a similarly crafty friend, brought as a present at their annual Christmas dinner where Ronan would invite their family friends over for dinner – the menu consisting of homemade chinese food. Sure, it wasn’t traditional, but the atmosphere of Christmas was marked for Anella by the funky decorations, jazz music, chosen family, and amazing dumplings. She understood Christmas at Hogwarts was a little different though, but in her humble opinion, it was not half bad!

She squealed in excitement when she first read about this event, happy to have one of the traditions she grew up with at Hogwarts as well. Sure, Hogwarts was nice and all, but Anne experienced home sickness too! Anne never had trouble getting dirty at home, especially at her training sessions, but now that the house elves were the one to keep her space clean and not her father, she grew shy of getting dirty. She had this shirt at home - lovingly called the “dirt shirt”, that she wore throughout the years while doing her DIY projects. It was a simple, white cotton mens M shirt that had accumulated a million stains of colours, glitter, glue, you name it. Her father said it was an art piece in of itself, but Anella just thought of it as an apron. Each to their own.

When the clock struck just the right time, the girl rushed to The Great Hall, her ponytail with a few mini braids swishing from side to side as she scanned over the room. No one she knew, yet. She deflated a little bit, nervous at the prospect of having to either sit alone or try to introduce herself once again. It was odd, at Hogwarts you never knew if you were gonna get a sheltered pureblood or your average magic muggle. Or any other crossover of those two, with their own sets of struggles and quirks. Anella thought about this as she looked for the coloured paper, settling on making a bauble of a bunch of little paper stars glued together. Maybe she’d try painting something else later, but a little bit of mindless hand work seemed like just the thing she needed at the moment.

She gets a few coloured papers, white, yellow, bronze to represent her house. She didn’t care specifically for house pride much, but she had no idea what other colours would work as well together, while keeping some sort of festive spirit. She doesn’t really want her bauble looking like it was designed for one of those American gender reveal parties. She also helps herself to a chocolate chip cookie and a glass of water, before continuing her search for a pair of scissors. But she also needs to stick her little 3d stars together, so she gets glue as well. And then to find one of those caps for baubles. She found one sitting next to the actual baubles, possibly broken off one and silently put it in her pocket, so as not to drop it while carrying her stuff. She looked around, deciding to sit a few feet away from this one boy who seemed a bit alone, sitting by himself away from the others. Maybe he didn’t wanna be bothered though, so Anella made sure not to cause too much commotion while she plopped down on the bench. She could really go for some YouTube, or music right now, she thought. Or, well, a conversation. But she played herself when she sat down next to the quietest person in the room when she was looking for entertainment. She just hoped someone she knew would come in soon, and she could wave them over.

She cut up all of her yellow papers in thin strips, before starting to fold one into a pentagon. This activity did not require a lot of concentration on her part, so she let her mind wander. She tried quizzing herself on different potions she had been taught up until December, and after finding she knew next to nothing about them, her eyes flicked around the room like a pair of green leaves on the forest ceiling. They again found the blonde across from her, so she settled on watching him draw a delicate design on his pink little ball while she folded her little papers. She was satisfied by the slowly growing pile of paper stars, before she got an idea.

On a white strip of paper, she wrote: “Hi! Are you drawing a wand?” with a pen she had in her jean pocket, before folding it up into the messiest little star ever, making it clear it can (and should) be unfolded. She drew a little smiley face on the front for good measure and placed it on the table. Then, with the precision of a marbles champion, she flicked it with her index finger at the stranger near her. Anella tried to make her smile seem less nervous and more pleasant, but she was honestly preparing herself for him to just. Get up and leave perhaps. But the gamble was worth it, for a new friend.

Reducio little guys

Interacting with @Oliver Armani

She'd just stepped down after successfully levitating her bauble when she heard Avis compliment her—and ask for help. Her best friend been floating around here somewhere, indeed. "Thanks," she replied as she turned her head slightly to see Avis' satchel. Very full it was—like she'd grabbed nearly everything in the hall. "Here," she said, gesturing over to the spot on the table that she'd made for herself earlier, "Let's have a look at everything and see what we can do."

This wasn't the first time that another student had asked for her creative assistance, but a bauble wasn't nearly as arduous or demanding as the dress Reyna Evergreen had hoped for. This would only take a few minutes. Chatter of conversation followed the girls on the way to the table. Looking through everything Avis had collected, there were plenty of ideas already fighting for contention in Maisie's head. But this wasn't her bauble; it was Avis' creation. "I think you can either start with materials or an image that you want to achieve. Like I wanted to achieve that pattern when the light hit the bauble. But if that's not conjuring any ideas, maybe think about how you want someone to feel when they look it. Happy? Excited?" The holidays she expected would come up with plenty of feelings for Avis as they did for most people. Hopefully that would give her friend somewhere to start and then Maisie would be more than happy to assist in the execution.

Meanwhile, she stared down at the wreath she was going to make. And that's when she realized she had an example: "Look at this. These branches could be any old wreath. But I think I want it to be welcoming for anyone so I'm going to make it quite big like a large hug." Carefully, she tried to stretch the branches as far as they would go. Then there would be questions of color and glitter and ribbons and so forth, but one thing at a time.

As she looked up once she'd gotten it decently wide, she asked, "I thought I saw you wave to someone earlier. Who was it?" She could have been wrong—she had been distracted by her own bauble—but if it was a chance to make more friends, she'd take it. These past few months, she'd been pretty kept up in her Ravenclaw bubble.

Interacting with @Avis Greymond & lightgodmoding of her character with permission. Mentioning @Reyna Evergreen & @Matthew Campbell. Open to interactions.

Aly Salinger hadn't much enjoyed Christmas over the past few years, but there had once been a time in which it had been one of her favourite times of year. Glimmering lights and beautiful ornaments, presents sitting prettily and wrapped beneath a giant snow-topped tree, hot chocolate with biscuits - and all the glitter a girl could ever want - so what wasn't to like? Of course, in recent years Christmas itself had brought about a fair amount of bad memories, but that didn't mean that the decorations in early December didn't bring a wistful smile to the Ravenclaw sixth-year's face as she slipped into the Great Hall on Sunday afternoon. The holiday season was about celebrating friends and family, after all, and she could put bad memories aside for the sake of making new ones - and supporting one of those aforementioned friends.

Dori, who had been quite kind to Aly since they'd "officially" met in a rather colourful clash back in January, had recently been appointed to a Hufflepuff prefecture, and that meant throwing events for the Hogwarts student body. (Of course, Aly was planning her own event for a few weeks from now, but that... well... was certainly less official. One might even say illegal.) To throw a decoration event was quite a common prefect responsibility, but Aly knew the sort of worry that always gnawed along at someone whilst they were party-planning: that something (or everything) would go wrong, that no one would attend, that there wouldn't be enough of food or supplies or this or that or the other... and so Aly was determined to ensure that not only would there be people (at least one!) at Dori's event, but that it would go well also.

However, as she entered the Hall, it became immediately quite clear that Dori wouldn't need Aly's help in any way, shape, or form. Snacks and supplies were provided in piles along one of the House tables, with the other three left open for seating availability, and Aly lifted an eyebrow in impressed surprise as her green gaze scanned the full one. Cakes and biscuits and pasties, oh my. Plus drinks. She made a beeline for the refreshments, having missed lunch earlier, and filled a small plate with some cheese, a few varying flavours of miniature cakes, and a chocolate biscuit. (Lunch of champions.) Taking a goblet of hot chocolate, too, she meandered over to an empty table and placed her chosen lunch down before returning to the craft section of the full table and eyeing what had been so neatly stacked upon it.

A clear bauble caught her eye, as did the piles of glitter next to it. Though she was usually a silver girl, there was just something about the Christmas season that called for gold in a way that few other times of year did, and so she scooped up a packet of resplendent glitter in that very colour and added to her haul the glue and paintbrush that would be necessary to attach it to the bauble. Simple, short, and sweet - much like Aly herself. (She'd learnt about glue in Muggle Studies class, and it still never failed to amaze her just how many sticky things Muggles had invented. Truly, it seemed like half of their technology involved some sort of sticking to something else. If only they had Permanent Sticking Charms...)

Returning to her pre-claimed seat, Aly let herself become immersed in the process of dribbling glue onto the paintbrush, slopping it quite messily onto the transparent sphere and spreading it around til the whole surface was covered in a thin coating, and then rolling it in the golden glitter until the sphere shimmered and shined like a star itself. Of course, she got a fair amount of glitter all over herself, too - in her hair, sticking to the scritchy fabric of her off-white sweater, etc. - but that was something that could be cleaned up by a simple Scourgify once she got tired of sparkling like the night sky. (If she ever did.) When she finished, the ornament was simply gold and sparkly - nothing too complicated, but certainly very much an Aly creation.

Perhaps if there had been other upperclassmen there, more familiar faces, Aly would have stayed and made multiple of the glitterballs, or she'd have tried something different - but there was a reason the Ravenclaw had missed the midday meal earlier, and she had to get back to it. (That "reason" being a sick Dauncey in her dormitory, who was requiring lots of cuddles and a close eye kept on him.) There were enough firsties and other younger students here for Aly to be satisfied that Dori's event was going to be a rounding success, and so she chugged the hot chocolate (definitely not resulting in a burnt throat, or anything), stuck the miniature cakes inside her pockets, grabbed the golden globe, and made for the tree, where Dori was waiting.

Approaching them with her most charming grin, Aly held up her most ostentatious of constructions so that the Hufflepuff could take a good look at it. "Ta-da! All done. Sorry I'm not staying longer, but it looks like you've got a good crowd going anyway, mate," she half-apologised and half-cracked, casting an excited glance around the Hall, into which more people were filtering by the second. "How's it been so far? Everything going well?" As Dori responded, Aly reached out and hung the bauble manually at eye level, not bothering to pull out her wand. The kiddos would certainly want their ornaments hung high, but Aly didn't mind being a bit lower - support for those higher-ups, and a reminder to Dori that they had friends to support them, too.

Saunders was momentarily taken aback as he listened to Matthew's words. An artist in the Muggle world? The father of the snake in his second year was a Muggle? He averted his eyes to hide his slight surprise. “I wonder if there's something about me that attracts non-purebloods,” he thought, considering the fact that for most of his short Hogwarts adventure, starting from Platform 9 ¾, he had met people from backgrounds very different from his own. Was that a coincidence? The child's mind, prone to mystify relations of causality, was gradually beginning to think otherwise. Not that he was discomforted. Not at all. It was simply that he did not yet have enough instruments in his mental arsenal to adequately contextualise a foreign experience.

“An artist, you say,” Saunders murmured pensively, “is he a famous one?” Saunders had met with some artists before, but they were usually writers. Was there any art in the Muggle world, the boy wondered, that he had never heard of yet? Most likely. Give or take one paragraph or two, Saunders had hardly read anything about their world. Regarding raising a question about Matthew's background as inappropriate and concealing his ignorance though, Saunders preferred to inquire about his father's fame. Although it could be argued that it was somewhat inappropriate to ask about one's fame, Saunders knew that if an artist was not famous, he would take solace in the idea that his talent was too transcendent to be appreciated by the large masses; and if he was famous, he would be saturated with the idea that he richly deserved it. According to his observations, artists, even those of the most humble fabric, had a need to be properly appreciated. Even the most pettish ones, resentful of those who might applaud them, would be attentive to the eyes that were unobtrusively scrutinising their work, eager to see a glimmer of admiration in their depths. Wasn't it so?

But Saunders' mind dwelt less on his previous experience and observations of art and artists than on the fact that his new acquaintance's family had a tradition of designing homemade gifts for Christmas. It was a difficult scene to visualise at Napier Manor. It was particularly strange to imagine that his father, who could compete with God in making everyone feel as if he did not exist, had prepared a handmade gift for him. “You're lucky, then,” Saunders wished to say, yet remained silent.

When Matthew complimented his modest handiwork, Saunders couldn't help blushing slightly, his cheeks still containing a hint of childish plumpness."It has spirit and that is all art requires"? “Mum wouldn't approve of what you said,” he replied with a smile, but he did not want to discuss his mother's stance on the matter so as not to appear too much of a mollycoddle. “I would have appreciated that very much,” he replied to Matthew's suggestion. It had not been long since Saunders arrived at Hogwarts and he was still, shamefully, struggling a little with the levitation charm. If Matthew had not suggested levitating his bauble and had instead said, “Come on, levitate it,” he might have ended up as the main character in a scene he would have been horribly ashamed of.

“Voila,” he exclaimed, feeling immense gratitude in his heart for Matthew's benevolence, and took a few steps back while theatrically gesturing with both hands to his bauble. The phrase “your first Christmas at Hogwarts” brought warmth to his young heart. “I'd be more than happy to sip a mug of hot chocolate while chatting to a friend,” he said, a gratitude shining in his eyes that even the most insensitive eye could easily discern.

@Matthew Campbell

“Okay,” Avis said, her voice heavy with relief. She knew Maisie would be able to help in some way, even if it was just a nudge in the right direction.

Once the two girls reached a table, Avis dumped the entire contents of her bag on to the surface and gave Maisie a sheepish expression.

"I think you can either start with materials or an image that you want to achieve. Like I wanted to achieve that pattern when the light hit the bauble. But if that's not conjuring any ideas, maybe think about how you want someone to feel when they look it. Happy? Excited?" her dorm mate suggested after a moment of thought. Avis nodded along quietly. It made sense, but what did she want people to feel from her artwork? For her, Christmas always represented comfort and family so maybe she’d start with a mixture of that? Avis looked over as Maisie presented her wreath as an example and she gave her a grateful smile.

“I think I’ve got some sort of idea now, thanks,” she replied, rifling through the pile of Christmas satchel vomit and pulling out the transparent bauble.

As the two of them worked, Avis carefully traced a few white stick figures on to her bauble with a thin paintbrush. Her general idea was an attempted formation at a paper chain, the stick figures holding hands in a ring around the glass ball. She grimaced as she held out the bauble in front of her. It was rough but she thought got the idea across for the most part… that is if one looked closely. Avis selected some red glitter and stick glue out of the pile. Glitter always did the trick and fixed things, right? She started pasting the glue over her figures after they’d dried when Maisie turned to her after working a bit on her wreath. She asked who Avis had been waving and the Ravenclaw shrugged, her focus taken up completely by her messy glue job.

“Oh… Matthew. Yes, I almost killed him once at the Quidditch Stadium. Really nice chap. Deep thinker that one,” she said absentmindedly, not paying attention to the gravity of her statement that suggested she had attempted murder.

Ever since he had been young, people had always told him that his mother had a way around people that just put them at ease and yet after his dismal first year Matthew was quite sure it was a trait he would never inherit. Yet as he stared into the brimmingly grateful eyes of the younger Snake for a moment he wondered if it was true and it tugged a most genuine smile from the depths of him creasing his eyes at its fullness. Laughing gently as his new friend marvelled at his own creation he thought about his earlier questions and wondered about the boys own family.

Beginning to move back to the station he had set up shop he spoke as they walked determined to get to know the daring, kind boy before him, "Lets get to the hot chocolate then! I still have some cider to finish, another tradition." Winking with a playful smirk they found their seats and upon pouring Saunders a large cup of hot chocolate he picked up the half drunken cup that had remained charmingly warm and raising it in toast, "Slàinte Mhath, to new friends." Draining the glowing amber liquid it ran down his throat warming even the deepest of chills he didn't know were there.

It didn't take him long to pour himself another cup and as he went he found himself rambling off on a tangent, words spilling out of his mouth before his tongue could even catch them, "To answer your question, I wouldn't say my dad's famous. He's quite well known in the Scottish Art scene and he has gained some international traction, in fact I think he and my step-dad are abroad right now doing a gallery launch or something. But art to him was never about the money or fame he barely ever sells his work as it's a part of him. I guess that's why I think art is all in the spirit. Also lucky for me I kind of gave up on gaining others approval last year I mean being a muggleborn in Slytherin isn't exactly a favourable outcome."

Worrying he may have said too much he felt his collar begin to tighten as if he was suffocating and coughing to relieve the pressure he looked across at the boy apologising, "Sorry for rambling I'm not always the best around new people, even friendly ones." Circling his finger around the rim of the cup to distract his stressed, busy mind he hoped he hadn't gone in too hard, the boy had just called them friends and now he was overbearing him with the past. Though not wanting the silence to linger he asked with all the jovial spirit he could muster, "How are you enjoying your time here? Not here like right now but here at Hogwarts I mean!" Of all things holy, he was messing this up so badly, it was times like this he really wished that calming nature effected himself and not just those around him. Yet maybe that was the gig the ability was only available as a form of self sacrifice - his sanity for the sake of others.

Interacting With @Saunders Napier | Post Tracker 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

𝕽uth nodded as Jan took a long look at her mug, still filled with lemonade. She smiled at him, but watched one of his hands pressing his palm, confused. “Oh, yes. The treats here are quite delightful,” she replied to him, nodding again as he began to explain what he was doing. A wreath! It made sense now. She felt a sudden cold chill as he was doing so behind her back, and she whipped her head around, wondering if anyone had been staring at her, half paying attention to what Jan was saying.

Before he could continue, and before Ruth could spot the responsible, a familiar voice called her. Ruth’s eyes looked towards the direction, spotting Palm—PAM! Her golden smile and cascading blonde curls were hard to miss, now that you spotted her. Ruth felt herself beaming as Pam reached the two of them. The girl before her exchanged a glance with Jan, both suddenly rather awkward. Best get the awkwardness out of the way…

Ruth gestured to Jan, smiling down at the boy. “Pam, this is Jan, my very very very good friend,”she introduced, stressing on the ‘very’. Jan really was her very very very good friend. Ruth was glad to have him over anyone else. Of course, she didn’t say that. Stepping next to Pam, Ruth grinned at her, “And Jan, this is my friend and fellow Hufflepuff, Pamela. She likes to be called Pam though,” Ruth exchanged a wider grin with Pam again. It felt good to see the girl. The occurrences between the two had been rare, what with Pam living in a different dorm to hers.

“I was just about to ask Jan if he wanted some help with his wreath.” Ruth brandished her own, “As you can tell, my parents have trained me very well for this,” she announced proudly. Oh dear. The dramatics of Mamori and Aodhan were catching up to her. How could theatrics be so influential? She turned to Jan, setting down her cup of lemonade. “So…would you like my help?”

Interacting with @Pamela Graham, @Jan Dehoff. Mentioning: @Mamori Anezaki and @Aodhan Shaw

With all of the homework and activities going on, Yougle Crenshaw had almost lost track of time; if not for the Christmas trees, wreaths, and numerous other festive decorations that seemed to pop up at every corner, Yougle would hardly have remembered that it was December already, her favorite holiday season.

Excitedly and expectantly entering the great hall during a particularly long break time (Yougle heard from reliable sources that if she did a particular something in the great hall, she would be rewarded with two house points and 20 whole sickles!), Yougle's mouth, once again, practically fell all the way to the ground.

The sight was breathtaking; of course, since this was no ordinary school, this was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had very well expected it to be, but nothing could've prepared her for the scene. In the vast great hall stood an enormous, gorgeous Christmas tree whose height almost met the soaring ceiling above, already half decorated with pretty baubles and ornaments with unique designs.

There were 4 tables total, although not for their usual purposes; in three of the tables, students were cheerily chatting and decorating baubles with a variety of supplies; glitter (all colors! And many different shades too!), string (glittery, silvery, wow!), tinsel, raspberries, popcorn, paper (all colors! High quality!), various types of coloring materials, and much more.

The last (fourth) table was split; half of it was full of tasty pastries and treats, and the other half was full of supplies and materials for decorating your baubles. This must be the errand, Yougle thought, still thinking about the 20 whole sickles she would get. For there wasn't anything else to do in the great hall. But this errand was truly too good to be true! She would be paid...literally paid...20 sickles...to, what, eat and craft??

But oh well. If she was going to get paid (20 whole sickles!), who was she to question it. Quite eagerly, Yougle walked over to the table half full of materials for baubles. After looking around and thinking for a few minutes on her bauble design, she picked out a clear bauble, some white, glittery string, a paintbrush, black paper, glue, and of course, all different shades of blue and purple glitter. Giddy with excitement, Yougle hurried over to one of the craft tables (the nearest one) and sat down. Like another girl who she had just seen do almost the same thing (brilliant!), Yougle carefully broke of a chunk of her bauble and set it aside.

After that, she carefully dipped the tip of a big paintbrush into a cup of clear glue, then carefully spread it very evenly throughout the insides of the clear bauble. Sketching and then cutting out a silhouette of a blast shooting out from the tip of a wand, Yougle plastered it straight in the middle of the insides of her bauble. Then, she put glue over the back of the silhouette too (and of course, spread it evenly throughout).

Yougle grinned even more. The next part was where it would really get wonderful. She poured a bit of each shade of blue and purple glitter into a neat pile resting in her bauble. Then, she spread glue on the insides of the small chunk of the bauble that was broken off. Putting the broken piece back in its original place, Yougle confidently said, "Reh-PAH-roh!" (Reparo) while drawing a clear backwards G in the air, remembering clearly what she had been taught in her first charms class. The bauble instantly mended.

Finally, Yougle picked up the now-mended bauble and shook it around furiously for a little while, in all different directions. She smiled as she saw the glitter stick to the glue that she had spread in the pretty effect that she had wanted it to have. She grabbed the piece of silvery white string she had gotten earlier from the table of materials, and not knowing the Levitation Spell, Yougle simply hung (more like tied a tight knot) her completed bauble onto one of the lower branches of the Christmas tree.

Standing back and admiring her work, Yougle couldn't help but beam widely, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She had just finished one of the easiest, funnest errand she had ever done and would soon get 20 sickles. Heading back to her dorm to study (although there were no exams coming up), Yougle made sure to grab a few treats along the way: lots of hot chocolate and marshmallows, chocolate chip cookies (20!), a few gingerbread men, crispy cookies, chewy cookies, around half a dozen mini cakes, and finally, some pumpkin pasties to try. It was very hard carrying all of those snacks at once, but because they were delicious, Yougle didn't mind.

This is going to be a tasty night, Yougle though as she dumped the treats down on her bed and rubbed her hands together. Actually, a good book will do instead of studying, she thought, and climbed onto her bed.

It was easy to list the few things Saunders cherished in life: Defense Against the Dark Arts, the spooky tales his old Welsh nanny used to tell him, the beaches of Biarritz, a twenty solid sworn friends who'd deliberately vow to join any game he invented no matter the circumstances and of course, hot chocolate. Matthew was offering him the last, but not at all the least, of these.

Saunders looked at the older boy, who was filling his cup with hot chocolate, his face glowing in the soft light. "So, this is what Christmas at Hogwarts is like," he thought. For the first time, his young heart seemed to grasp that magic could be done without wands, using only kind words and open hearts. But he was still far too little to fully comprehend this, let alone articulate it.

His small hands wrapped eagerly around the handle of the cup, the warmth of the steaming drink radiating through the porcelain. As Matthew prepared to down another glass of the beverage he loved even more than hot chocolate, Saunders’ lips met the rim of the cup. “Slàinte Mhath?” Saunders asked with a grin, blissfully unaware of the small trace of chocolate lingering on his upper lip. His eyes lit up suddenly. “Wait, are you Welsh? Just like my old nanny? She was absolutely marvellous and I miss her so much!”

As Matthew shared a story about his father, Saunders listened intently, beginning to understand just how much family meant to the boy. It was, however, a concept that felt almost alien to him, in this sense of the word. His relationship with his parents was like some threefold tentative diplomatic exchanges between some consulates. "Oh," he murmured softly as Matthew’s words wound down. “Being a Muggle-born in Slytherin must be… tricky, I imagine.” The younger snake could not entirely picture it though. What on earth had the Sorting Hat been thinking? A flicker of irritation stirred within him. “You crumpled piece of fabric,” he thought bitterly, “you could’ve placed this kind boy in Hufflepuff. He wouldn’t have had to face all this trouble here.”

“No, no,” Saunders heartily objected, “you don’t need to apologize, not at all.” A reassuring smile spread across his face, and for a moment, it felt as though their roles in this brief exchange had reversed. “I enjoyed listening to you,” he added. “And do you know that my father’s an artist of sorts, too? A master of idle living and doing absolutely nothing. He’s so good at it, it’s practically an artsy career.” Saunders chuckled softly. “Honestly,” he continued, “I wasn’t particularly excited about coming to Hogwarts at first. I mean, it’s just Hogwarts, right?” He took a long sip of his hot chocolate. “But I’ve started liking it more and more with each passing day. Even if not everyone is as kind as you are, I’ve managed to meet some very interesting people.”

His gaze, for a brief period, wandered thoughtfully around the Great Hall. “But I think,” he said hesitantly, “This is the first time I’ve felt truly at ease here.” Self-expression wasn’t exactly Saunders’ forte. In fact, he was probably worse at it than he was at making handiwork. “My days at home were much more monotonous, much greyer,” he said, his fragile smile returning. “and the kids who came to visit us weren’t all that remarkable either.” He ran a hand through his hair and added, "Plus, there’s still so much time ahead of me! I think I have to admit this castle might even be exciting.”

He then looked straight into Matthew’s eyes. “And, um,” he began awkwardly, “if there’s ever some Slytherin dares to make things difficult for you, please don’t let it bother you.” Then, puffing out his chest slightly, he added, “I’m not exactly a great wizard yet, but if nothing else, I can always chuck a few of these baubles at their heads.” Saunders’ childish bravado was on full display now, and he even didn’t care how laughable it might seem.

“We’re all just trying to get by, aren’t we?” he said at last, falling quiet again, completely unaware of how those fresh, unweathered hearts of children occasionally stumbled upon small, unspoken truths.

@Matthew Campbell

Hearing others pronounce Gaelic was always a spectacle and despite the boys Welsh grandmother he struggled around the harsher syllables almost causing the senior to choke on his cider. Warming his hands on the cup he felt a small chuckle begin to escape as he said, "Not quite Welsh, it's Scottish Gaelic. A kind of toast to good health. Similar to cheers! Your nanny sounds fun though, I don't have any grandparents." While the statement could have appeared sad there was no sorrow in his young voice for he had never experienced having them to know what a loss it was without.

While he had mostly managed to supress his giggles at the Gaelic pronunciation a howler of a laugh burst forth from him when the young boy described his father. It wasn't clear if his statement was out of resentment or simply indignation but either way Matthew found the snakes bluntness endearing and entirely amusing. Saunders father sounded like everything his father despised about humanity, having grown from nothing and rebuilt his life more than once by hand he was afforded the permission of annoyance at those who didn't but Matthew only hoped at the very least Saunders father loved his kid. After all wasn't that what truly mattered.

As the boy continued Matthew was glad to see his opinions were beginning to change as he for one was glad Saunders had come to Hogwarts, "Hogwarts is glad to have you." The words slipped out so effortlessly as they were plain truth. Matthew couldn't do much to change his own past but if he could ease the worries of another maybe he could erase that past from hurting another. Gently patting the younger boy on the shoulder he held him in a comforting stare as he said, "As am I."

Defending the defenceless was a trait most noble and as Saunders spoke he proved himself to be of the highest merit in that regard. Matthew's face lit with delight at the prospect of pummelling some purists with baubles much as he had wanted to upon learning the bewitched snowball spell last year. It was a marvellous sight to see; someone so young that had grown up in the wizarding world not bow to the pressures of those society voices and view him as a wizard just the same as he. Speaking affirmed by their friendly conversation he felt a weight within him relax, "I promise you your days of monotonous grey are far behind you. Chaos is the heart of this place and I for one love it!"

Pausing for a infinitesimal moment to really take in the weight of the boys sentiment he found himself even more enamoured with him. "Thanks Saunders. You know it hasn't been all bad, I spent a lot of my first year buried in books desperate to catch up and I did so much so that I've now even mastered some third year spells, call me an overachiever I guess. Plus I did make some really good friends, and today I think I've just made another." His smile was so richly warm that he was tempted to smell his cider to make sure it hadn't been spiked with firewhisky but in reality he knew it had come from the comfort of their interaction. Matthew didn't have to hide his emotions or minimise his experiences with the young boy and that was a Christmas gift worth more than anything.

Glancing away from the boy he noticed a slight glow emanating from his bag which upon investigations turned out to be his Remembrall. Suddenly glaringly obvious his mind raced into panic as he realised he was due in the duelling club in less than 10 minutes. "Sorry to run out on you but I've just remembered why I came early in the first place. I have a duel to moderate but it really was a pleasure meeting you, maybe we can chat more another time, you seem like someone I'd like to know. Maybe we can help each other get by!" Summoning a flask with the incantation "Potiri Putine" he quickly poured the remaining jug of cider into it while winking at the boy next to him, "You never know when something might come in handy!" Then laughing a jolly laugh he pushed up from the table scooped up his things and considered hugging the boy for a moment but wasn't sure he was the type. Then again if his dad really was as rottenly dull as he said perhaps he needed one. A parting gift as after all it was the season of giving. Pulling him into a friendly hug that barely lasted a couple of second his eyes lit as he began running off, "See you around Saunders!"

Just before he excited the great hall he turned and twisting his wand in a swirling motion ending with a long-flourished tail he spoke the incantation soft as the snow it would conjure, "Nix Facitur" Above the boy as delicate as the clouds themselves small snowflakes began to form and floated gently down onto him. After all what was a first Christmas at Hogwarts without any snow. With hope in his heart that they'd meet again he slid out past the door and with all the speed he could muster sprinted to the duelling club.

Interacting With @Saunders Napier | Post Tracker 1, 2, 3, 4, 5