A Fated Reunion pv Finished

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Lottie gave a thoughtful sigh at Archer's response, a wiry smile splitting across her face. "A falcon?" She thought of the valiant bird and gave a huff of admiration. She had once seen one, long ago, on a trip she couldn't recall the content on in a place she couldn't remember. What she did remember, though, was being struck by the elegant power of such a large bird. "She must have keen vision, then. The bird of princes." It wasn't too impossible for her to imagine many others in their first year had Archer's same fear of flying. Even she sometimes shook at the idea of being off the ground, at the mercy of the wind.

Lottie listened as Archer went on about the many different course that had piqued his interest, intrigued by the pace at which he spoke as well as the completeness of his many thoughts. When he stopped abruptly, Lottie carefully replied, "It sounds to me like you've really been thinking about this. I imagine if you make this enthusiasm a streak you'll have no problem getting that astronomy internship." She mirrored his smile with her own stroke of encouragement. It was no surprise to her that the boy had only just begun the year and was already on his way to having top marks.

"Right now? I suppose I'm just trying to take it all in." Lottie gave a mystified glance up at the room around them, once again overwhelmed by the magical decor and high ceiling. When her gaze returned to Archer, she cracked a humorous grin. "It is a bit over the top, don't you think?"

@Archer Duncan

Returning her encouragement with a simply polite nod, Archer said, “Maybe. It’s… different. A castle isn’t the most conventional location for an academic institution.” He smiled at her grin with concealed uneasiness. With concern and weariness in his own voice from the long day, he asked, “Are you tired then? The train ride was certainly a long one - and unnecessary, if you ask me. I do not see why I needed to go to London.” Archer leaned back, suddenly self-aware of how pedantic he must have sounded.

As all the sorting finally came to an end and speeches were given, food soon apparated before them, and Archer, despite having grown up surrounded by magic, was still hiding his startledness at their sudden appearance. “I think we should both eat,” he suggested, waving at the motley assortment before them. Then, with monologues having tired him, resorted to smalltalk with the question, “Trivial as it may be, what is your favourite food Charlotte? I enjoy a cullen skink - haddock potato soup, a Scottish dish -, my mother makes the best ones.” While he knew well enough the plates could supposedly conjure any food based on his whim, there was no denying that the magicked versions would never live up to his taste of home.

@Charlotte Winfield

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Lottie nodded, resting her elbows on the table. She recalled the bittersweet train ride with a churning feeling in her gut. It was yet another reminder of how far she was from home, and even farther from her sister. Last she had checked, her sister had joined some eccentric theatre troupe and gone no-contact with everyone except for Lottie. It gave her a kind of responsibility that she wasn't used to, though secrets were a second-language Lottie had mastered long ago. Still, she couldn't help but smile as the Hat's words clicked in her head. "I've been fighting off sleep since we got off. Though the views were nice."

Lottie exhaled with relief at the appearance of food before them, suddenly becoming conscious of how hungry she was. She resisted the juvenile urge to follow the lead of the surrounding students and ravage the food like a wild beast. Archer's question actually seemed to stump Lottie a bit, and she had to pause a moment to think. Though the sentiment of home-cooked food was nice, more often than not the Winfields would just hire a chef to prepare all three meals.

She did recall, though, sitting by the front door in the dark of night, waiting for her sister to return with an armful of muggle snacks that they would hide beneath their beds and eat under the cloak of midnight. Her mother had put a stop to that very quickly. Still, Lottie couldn't help but respond, "Goldfish. The colorful kind."

@Archer Duncan

As the cullen skink magicked into appearance in front of him Archer took a tentative sip and was surprised to find his past sentiment incorrect. In fact the meal tasted exactly like how his mother used to make it, and at the sudden realisation he would be away from home for four more months almost brought unexpected tears to his eyes. Blinking them back for sake of decorum - though more so for his own sanity, he supposed. Allowing the warm brew into his throat and wincing as he almost burnt himself, a smile quickly reappeared as Charlotte shared her liking for "goldfish, the colourful kind."

"I hadn't known goldfish were of any colour but orange," Archer said, with an eyebrow raised in amusement, "Nor that they are edible, for that matter." If he was to hazard a guess they were either an exotic refreshment Maman would have had on all the trips to faraway islands he was not brought on, or muggle delights he was yet to experience. The latter Archer had even less than the former, but from what little muggle food he had tasted travelling - to put it prettily it was an expansion of culture, though truthfully they just happened to be in the area for other business - it was bound to be flavourful. It only served as a reminder, though far from a painful one, of how little of the world he'd seen, and how much more he would in the coming years. "So, Charlotte," he said, leaning closer once more, "Do you have this... colourful goldfish on you?"

@Charlotte Winfield

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Lottie watched, silently mystified, as other students received personalized dishes. She tapped an agitated beat onto her knuckles, her indecisiveness once again being her downfall. It seemed that, when met with the ability to conjure up any food her heart desired, her mind came up empty. It was a foolish thing to be so stuck on, but the image of brightly packaged crackers shaped like fish just couldn't escape her mind.

She was a bit taken aback at Archer's next words, and she nearly forgot about her predicament in favor of the humorous response. She waited for a moment, staring with a bewilderedly amused expression, before breaking out into a quiet bit of a laughter. She shook her head, eyes lit up with sudden hilarity. "Merlin, no, not real goldfish," She leaned forward, folding her hands before her. "It's a muggle snack. You know, the kind you would see at the grocery store. Of course, I've never been to one, but..."

It was oddly disorienting to no longer be the uninformed one. She felt suddenly grateful for her sister's rebellion, though she attempted to shed herself of the thought. There wasn't much good that muggle knowledge could get one at a school for wizards. Still, she couldn't help but share the small magic of tasty muggle snacks.

"They're a sort of cracker, with lots of salt. And they're shaped like little fish." She squished down her index finger and thumb to accentuate the image. "I haven't got any at the moment, though I can't help but wonder if they would be in the realm of possibilities for these magical plates here."

@Archer Duncan

This was short and poor and took me an obscenely long time to actually finish. My sincerest apologies for the wait

For most pureblood heirs and heiresses any talks of Muggle culture was one done behind closed doors, whispered with rebellious siblings or smuggled in when parents were out at gatherings. Unlike the many stereotypes of blood supremacism, Archer’s observations often rendered a picture otherwise, as wide-eyed to the Muggle world as the Muggle world was to theirs. The half curious, half-thrilled glint in Charlotte’s eager eyes was proof enough of what a pity it was. The Duncan boy had been blessed to have been exposed to non-maxi culture yet he himself was no connoisseur of the many plastic-packaged, shining and colourful treats the offered in a wild variation. The fantasised worlds of Tolkien and Herbet were the highlights of Muggle magic but he was yet to realise the wonders some food additives and food colouring could make.

Going off from Charlotte’s vague description Archer willed some of the goldfish — and not real ones, as Charlotte had stressed — onto the dish that once held bread for his soup. When nothing came he offered the girl a part mystified, part disappointed glance. A crying shame really, how both worlds must yearn for the other, a taboo subject their elders must have laughed at, yet neither rarely reached the other, even when magic, with all it limitless possibilities, failed. “I suppose they do not have them here then; I wish they did though, they sound like a snack I would like to try.”

Suppressing a yawn as he gulped down another spoonful of Cullen Skink, which now felt plain not only in comparison to his mother’s but his wild imagination’s conjuring of all the possibilities that came with the Muggle treat Lottie had taken an affinity towards. “Excuse me…” he said, covering his mouth in decorum, “It’s odd how one never gets proper rest on trains, isn’t it?”

@Charlotte Winfield

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Lottie knew immediately that she had said too much. Speaking of muggle culture in such a public setting, Hogwarts no less, was unheard of. At least, that's what her mother had told her. But with Archer, it felt different. The fear and secrecy that Lottie felt at the mere mention of muggles back home was no more than a small inkling of discomfort around the boy, more akin to the dangerous excitement of gossip than anything else. It felt safe.

She watched with amused curiosity as the boy attempted to conjure goldfish onto his plate, but felt a pang of disappointment after the dish remained unchanged. It made perfect sense, of course, that a muggle snack wouldn't fit into the strangely intricate magical system of the wizard world, but Lottie couldn't help but feel a profound sense of longing for home at its absence. Or, perhaps more accurately, her sister, who was unafraid of dabbling in muggle culture. So unafraid, in fact, that she had up and left in search of it.

Lottie swallowed down the thought and pushed it far back in her mind. Instead of wallowing, as she had been practically the entire time before she encountered Archer, Lottie attempted to look on the brighter side of things. "Perhaps I'll try and find some next time I visit home."

Though Archer had been able to suppress his yawn, Lottie had a little less control, and her jaw cracked behind her fingers. She quickly recovered, glancing down at her still-empty plate and deciding that she had far too many nerves to eat anything before bed. Besides, breakfast surely wasn't that far away, what with how late it was. "I imagine we'll be settling in sooner or later. Unless they plan on keeping us in here all night."

@Archer Duncan

banner by Alyssea Brown | interacting as Archer Duncan

Both of them shared the disappointed at the fish that never appeared with a glance as they looked up at each other. Although arguably more knowledgable than your average pureblood Archer still did not know how to treat muggle culture, yet Archer smiled nevertheless as Lottie made the offer to bring some from home the next time they returned. That sounded like an offer he could look forward to. “Thank you, I would be delighted to try them.”

Archer barely caught the yawn that Lottie had hastily hid for his own attention was soon drifting elsewhere, namely, sleeping arrangements for this dreary night after a long day on the commute here. “I hope not,” he managed, glancing around the room still enraptured in conversation. Even a day of hiking would have left him in more energy.

Watching with eyes tired into slits as their head of house stepped up from her table to address the assembled Slytherins, old and new, Archer pushed his food forward, only half-touched but oddly he felt as if his appetite had been satisfied enough. Maman, after all, had prepared plenty of refreshments which he had enjoyed on the train and stashed to rest into his satchel. “Perfect timing,” he muttered under his breath; words coming out as a whisper. Then deciding both their energy levels and the time did not exactly give the reunion its due effort, and therefore Archer decided it would be best to, “Shall we meet tomorrow then?”

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Lottie's weariness had come quite suddenly, but she imagined it had been building the entire day. From the train, to the boats, to this very moment, she had been riding on a steady flow of nerves and adrenaline that was quickly coming to its end. The warmth of the Great Hall suddenly flooded through her, making her eyelids heavy and muscles loose with exhaustion. She rubbed her eyes, sitting back a bit.

It seemed most other first years at the table were experiencing a similar crash, and a quiet chain of yawns echoed down the table like a sleepy choir. The head of house was surprisingly chipper, all things considered, but Lottie imagined that was just a part of the gig. She tuned him out with great ease, turning back to Archer with as much interest as she could muster. Despite her desire for bed, a small part of her wanted to stay and talk to the other boy until sunrise, discussing his adventures back at his beautiful home and all he wanted to do now that he was finally at Hogwarts. The better part of her, though, knew that she would have plenty of time for that after she got a good night's sleep.

A private, warm smile spread across Lottie's lips at the silent reminder in Archer's words. Despite their parting, tomorrow they would still be here, at Hogwarts, surrounded by magic and energy and possibility. The idea no longer sounded so daunting to Lottie. After a beat of fuzzy silence, Lottie nodded. "Tomorrow."

@Archer Duncan