A Thief of Joy PV Cassian

Cassian was having a terrible, no good, very bad day.

It had started out okay, all things considered, but things had quickly gone downhill once he arrived at breakfast. He typically enjoyed the fare that Hogwarts provided its students, since they almost always had something for everyone. For some reason, today he hadn’t seemed able to find a single dish that piqued his interest or his appetite. Cassian had finally settled on a bland-looking porridge, hoping that the lack of taste would at least keep his mood neutral instead of annoying him like if he’d picked something else and ended up hating it.

When he’d sat down to dig in, though, the student next to him had gotten up suddenly. They’d flung the steaming hot porridge all over the front of Cassian’s robes, getting some on his neck and arms as well. He’d had to run back up to the Gryffindor tower to wipe himself down and make sure he hadn’t accidentally picked up any burns. Then, he realized that his spare robes were still being repaired after an unfortunate incident with a branch and a broom, so he was forced to wear his dirty ones from the day before.

All in all, it had been a terrible morning for Cassian. The cherry on top was that, of course, he had done all that at top speed in order to not be late to History of Magic class and still ended up with his usual seat already full. When he’d rounded the corner into the classroom, huffing and out of breath, his stomach had sunk as he saw another student (a Hufflepuff, he was pretty sure — weren’t they supposed to be all kind and stuff?) sitting where he usually did, towards the back of the room. Cassian preferred being away from the center of attention unless he absolutely had to be. It made it all the easier to slack off when he didn’t feel quite like being a model student.

Sighing, he had hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and made his way towards another seat, much closer to the front than he’d like to be. Cassian searched his memory for any impressions of who usually sat there, but he came up blank beyond the fact that they seemed relatively studious. No matter, he’d just explain when they got here — they wouldn’t mind, surely. He slumped into the seat, limbs splaying out in that awkward manner characteristic of rapidly growing preteens.

It wasn’t even five minutes later when he heard the click-clack of footsteps (and angry footsteps at that) approaching him at a rapid pace. Cassian had barely turned his head to face whoever it was when the girl — who was seriously tiny, was she a first year or a ten-year-old who’d snuck in — was upon him. He resisted the urge to blink in the face of her fury. The girl was blonde and vaguely familiar as one of the Slytherins who scurried around the castle like they were perpetually scheming something. Well, that was the answer to the question of who the normal occupant of the seat he was currently in was. Okay, he wasn’t expecting that reaction, but he wasn’t about to take this sitting down.

“I got here first,” he replied snarkily, crossing his arms and settling into his seat even more. Now he was really determined to tough it out. “You snooze you loose, blondie.”

Really, was calling him an absolute walnut necessary? It seemed so… juvenile. If anything, Cassian might have respected the girl more if she’d had the guts to just insult him outright. Now he was just annoyed and frustrated, which were never good combinations when it came to his temperament. He just hoped that his hair wasn’t a flaming red… yet. With the brief interaction he’d had already, Cassian wasn’t optimistic of his odds of getting through the class without accidentally sprouting claws or something. Whatever — she definitely deserved it. Who walked around like that, demanding things from other people?

January 19th, 2025	History of Magic
“English”	“Gaelic”

Silence was a powerful reaction, often leading to slight anxiety by the other and the urge to fill the space that the silence left. It was used by many, but namely those looking to negotiate with the other, and trying their best to have the upper hand. Sometimes that idea would float across Alyss’ mind in times of conflict, giving her a reasonable chance to grab it and actually listen, rather than simply make up words and insults on the spot in tense situations. However, Alyss simply didn’t look at life that way. It was not a space to think and ponder, but one to act. One to simply go on your first instinct. As the saying goes, better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

The concept of using silence as a bargaining tool was foreign to Alyss, and she was probably one of the reasons that it worked, due to her rash decisions and disliking for slow and controlled speech. “Is that so? At least it doesn’t look like I puked on my uniform. Maybe try changing before going to class?” Alyss offered in response, feeling her comment was just as low as his. She swept her eyes up and down, studying him. Was it a great comeback? No. But Alyss was less focused on her seat now and more on the nincompoop that was sitting in front of her.

“I have sat in that seat all semester, if you want it now then it seems I was not the one snoozing.” Alyss huffed, incredibly miffed about the problem of her seat. Who on earth would just sit in a random seat instead of their usual? While Alyss certainly enjoyed a little taste of adventure from time to time, she wasn’t one who would jeopardize someone else’s routine unless they were her friend— so why on earth was he in her seat? They didn’t even know each other!

It seemed the he was one of those Gryffindors who had the bravery, but not the chivalry. Perhaps only looking at him as a Gryffindor was demeaning, especially considering the negative stereotypes with her own house. Alyss made a point in her mind to stop associating people simply as their houses— people are often much more than that! This one might still need some work, though.

Cassian snorted audibly as she continued to stand in front of him, barely taller than he was sitting down. Her stance was combative and her words even more so. He could already feel himself gearing up for a fight. Ugh, self-righteous people were the worst. She hadn’t even bothered to ask for her seat back politely before directly gunning for him. Cassian would have at least negotiated with her if she had extended him this common courtesy, but it seemed as if he would need to step it up. Whatever, she had it coming anyway.

His eyes narrowed as the girl brought up his soiled uniform. He could almost feel his hackles raise defensively, and before Cassian could get a handle on himself, a cutting response flew from his lips. “Yeah, well, some of us have to deal with breakfast mishaps and someone else stealing their seat before nine o’clock,” he snarked back. “Didn’t really have time to change unless I fancied hexing someone in my underwear.”

Turning just enough to give her a pointed look, Cassian raised an eyebrow, which was rapidly becoming a ruddy shade of red. “And you’ve sat here all term, have you? Funny, I must’ve missed the sign saying ‘Reserved for Moody Pixies.’” Honestly, he probably would’ve given the seat back if she’d just asked like a normal person. But now — now it was a matter of pride. The seat wasn’t just a seat anymore. It was a hill he was fully prepared to die on, or at least allow his hair to flame into a violent conflagration over. At this point, Cassian was too worked up to notice or care that he was rapidly losing control over his appearance.

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, as if letting her in on a grand secret. “You know, for someone who looks like she could be carried off by a particularly strong owl, you’ve got a lot of attitude.” She reminded him of his more petulant cousins, all of them convinced that the world was something owed to them. Cassian had always enjoyed messing with them, and this girl was turning out to be no different. He wondered if she’d start sputtering like a teapot that was about to boil over next.

“Listen, class is about to start,” he pointed out, his tone smug. “I’d suggest you find your own seat and stop bothering me for mine.”

January 19th, 2025	History of Magic
“English”	“Gaelic”

Now, Alyss liked to think of herself as a kind person. She had friends, she wasn’t mean simply for the sake of being mean, but she didn’t always hold back the way others would like for her to. This happened quite often, actually. She didn’t always read social cues correctly, nor did she think before the spoke. So on numerous occasions, Alyss would find herself glaring at her shoes, eyes drilling holes into the ground, as a mumbled “I’m sorry.” Made its way from her soul. Very rarely, however, did she mean this apology. No, usually she simply muttered it to get the authority figure off her back, before then avoiding that person for all of eternity, as clearly they were not worth her time, given they were so sensitive.

However, Alyss could also never pull off a “Bad boy,” persona, seeing as she was sheltered enough to not actually know most swear words at the age of eleven. But in this moment in time, Alyss wished she knew them. “Well maybe you should’ve used that empty noggin of yours to consider the possibility that you were taking someone else’s seat.” Alyss snarled in return, angrily shoving her books onto some of the desk space in front of her seat.

Finally, something in Alyss snapped. She didn’t know any swear words, and she was past the age in which she believed “God,” to be a naughty word. However, she could still insult him back. “You didn’t see a sign because your brain can’t comprehend the basic concept of considerate.” There was a short pause, of Alyss realizing the fact that what she had just said was an awful insult. “And you know what?” She followed, eyes flashing with anger, leaning into his personal space. “I’d rather be moody pixie than a dull troll.” Alyss sneered, eyes scrutinizing his expression.

“Also, you stink. At least ask someone to Scourgify it for you.” Alyss spoke, scrunching up her nose as she took a particularly strong breath, only to find the smell of porridge invading her nostrils. She leaned away from him once again, taking breaths of cleaner air. This interaction reminded her of all the times she had argued over the best stick during a sword fight, or the best seat on the tree. But this time was different, seeing as she had essentially claimed the seat. Everyday that she’d had History of Magic, she sat there. In that specific seat. If he had been a normal person, he would have understood her frustration, and moved out of the way, like a normal person. Perhaps she had been particularly rude about it, but nevertheless.

As for his comment on being “carried off by a particularly strong owl,” that made her want scream and slap him, all at the same time. So she leaned forward once more, and whispered back “Coming from someone whose confidence is clearly held together with duct tape and a fake smile? I think I’m doing just fine.” Alyss’ last few words dripped with disdain, her glare sharpening as she turned away from him, eyes scanning the seats available now that they were getting closer to the beginning of class.

“No, see I think that seat, over there — Would be perfect for you.” Alyss finished, finger pointing at the corner of the room, that looked a little…neglected, not being illuminated by the light given off from the windows.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as Alyss rattled on, every word more grating than the last. He had been raised to keep a civil tongue, had been taught from a young age that poise mattered more than passion, that lashing out made you weak. He did his best to obey, employing an arsenal of jokes, witty grins, and charming shrugs that smoothed over anything unpleasant. However, he inevitably lost control of himself sometimes — and when he did, it could get ugly.

He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the stone floor, drawing a few glances. His eyes, usually bright and lazy with mischief, burned cold.

“Say that again,” he said sharply, voice low and trembling not with fear but fury. “Go on. Say it again, you nasty little goblin.” Cassian loomed over her now that he was standing, the way he towered over her almost deliberate in its implicit threat.

He wasn’t shouting, not quite yet. That would’ve been easier, if more childish. But Cassian still had enough of a handle on his temper to avoid making a scene in class. That would’ve been the embarrassment of his life if it got back to his parents. Still, the venom in his voice was palpable. His cheeks flushed an ugly blotchy red, and for a brief second, his features flickered — eyes darkening to an unattractive swamp green, jaw tightening into something sharper than what his eleven-year-old face should have been able to carry.

Cassian’s fingers twitched, and before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and shoved her shoulder — not hard, but enough to unbalance her slightly where she stood by the desk. The moment his hand made contact, regret bloomed in his gut like poison. He pushed on, though, the anger clouding his judgment and propelling him forward.

“You think being louder makes you right,” he hissed. “But frankly, you’re just mean for the sake of it. Not everything revolves around you, you know. You’re the exact reason why your House has the reputation it has.” Stepping back, Cassian drew a ragged breath. “You want the seat? Fine. Take it. I don’t want it anymore — I wouldn’t sit near you if Godric Gryffindor himself dragged me there.”

Completely disregarding the seat she had oh-so-disdainfully pointed out, Cassian stalked over to the far side of the room, his fists clenched into tight balls at his side. He flung his bag down blindly onto the closest desk he could find and dropped into the chair, causing the student next to him to let out a meek, surprised “eep!” as they rapidly scurried as far away from him as they could while remaining in their seat. Cassian fixed his gaze on the blackboard, jaw set tight.

That girl — whoever she was — wasn’t worth his time.

word count: 466

January 19th, 2025	History of Magic
“English”	“Gaelic”

It was quite difficult to be a perfect person, impossible even. Many had tried before, and Alyss had begun to stop caring about perfection. She still had her flaws of working twice as hard to prove herself, but there was no mental barrier for her when it came down to the want to have no mistakes. Alyss very much possessed troubles and flaws, mistakes and clumsiness. Alyss had taken physical actions in moments she should have not, during of which her emotions and limbs simply worked more quickly than her actual thoughts.

Despite her understanding of emotions flooding through your senses, leaving very little room to actually regain your senses prior to action, Alyss still found herself shocked. The boy loomed over her, and Alyss had a moment in which, similarly to the cartoons, she felt as though her neck was moving in slow motion as the boy stood, porridge stained clothes and all. It took everything in her to keep her eyes from widening in fear and hands by her side, as to not reveal the trembling that was present.

Surprisingly, Alyss remained silent. This was the moment when she would usually repeat her previous phrase, fire shining in her eyes. But it had become too real, too quickly, and Alyss hadn’t been the one to initiate that change, leaving her fumbling with her mere existence for a second. This second seemed to stretch on and on, and perhaps it did for Cassian as well, as he took her hesitation as an opportunity to give her a shove. It wasn’t super hard, and Alyss didn’t find herself stumbling to the floor as she would have if he had truly put more force behind his strike. Instead, Alyss merely stumbled backwards, mind now working overtime as the adrenaline coursed through her veins, fight or flight mode activated.

Her eyes had widened, feet searching for the proper way to reposition and balance her body weight as she regained control over her movement. Alyss felt her eyes flicking between his hand — specifically the shoving hand — and his eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, were they not? There, she only saw anger and bitterness. Perhaps she had pushed too hard, and this was the consequence, but it appeared that he now hated her, despite his actions being the reason they found themselves in this situation at all.

“No, being louder doesn’t make me right.” Alyss found herself agreeing with him momentarily, before following it up with more words that came flooding from her mouth. “But your antagonism certainly helps.” She spat back, before stalking past him to her seat, finally settling down with a huff. Her house had the reputation of being ambitious and clever, not of being seat-stealers. Her actions were fine, regardless of his opinion on the matter. That was, from the eyes of the girl dressed in green, with the snake crest pinned to her robes.

Reducio

Pings: @Melisande Lennox
Interactions: @Cassian Montelise Byrne
Note: Ping in case of detention, otherwise we can end it with either this post or one of Cassian’s. Thank you very much for the beauty either way, Cassian.