Let It Shine PV | Detention Closed

@Koko Riddle. Allright, allright, lets get this show on the road!

Ah, Saturdays. The glorious day when everything seemed to be ever so slightly relaxed, even though so much business could be happening outside of one’s world. The day when time just wished to speed past to move on to the next interesting thing, and everyone begged for it to stand still and smell the roses for once. For Piérre, however, he was far from nervous or busy. In fact, it seemed to him as if time always seemed to slow for him and him alone. As if the world moved at his pace, at his level of life, as if he could do whatever he needed to do in a certain span of time and it would just be finished. Call it happy or go lucky, but Piérre called it charisma and dedication.

This was why he had been almost excited to receive the letter from Koko. Truth be told, he almost forgot about his little slipping out after hours, but when Dubuque came in with the letter, he remembered... somehow... The girl with the long blonde hair and the flashing gold eyes. She seemed pleasant enough, surely there were worse prefects to get caught by on such a night. Apparently he would be reporting to the Trophy Room to do some housework there and give the elves a bit of slack. Piérre had wandered by the room quite often, but had never been keen on going in and reading each label specifically except for keeping track of the hourglasses, specifically Gryffindor’s, who so far was winning for the month!

Reducio

Rolled a d4 to determine house color for the day:
1- Hufflepuff
2- Ravenclaw
3- Gryffindor
4- Slytherin

Number Rolled: 4
Slytherin

After making himself presentable, and deciding what to wear for the occasion (he decided to go with a green sweater and silver shirt to continue to look the part of a Slytherin even though Koko may have figured it out by now that he was a Gryffin), Piérre exited the Gryffindor commons, confusing a few people because of his outfit and his willingness to leave on a Saturday morning, and walked with a pep in his step to the trophy room.

Smiling, he looked at all the bronze, silver, and gold. Medals of honor, baubles of history and representation. They were all neat and shiny because of the house elves’ weekly polishing, but because this was the end of the week, they were just barely gaining the slightest hint of dullness. Not noticeable to a normal passerby, but definitely noticeable if you had an eye for shiny things or if you really were a patriot of the school. Unfortunately, Piérre was the former, like a raven whenever he saw a shine on the grounds, in the grass, or in somebody’s hand or pocket. He couldn’t help but be intrigued.

He passed by a wall containing placards of noticeable mentions, on which were the two famous and infamous names, Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. Each unforgettable to the world in their own way, and yet, one discharged with honor, and the the other without.

Just as he milled past trophies from Quidditch cups, noting the names of the players and wishing that he too could end up there someday, even if his name was covered in dust, Piérre finally spotted Koko, who was just up ahead with a mound of cloths, silver polish, her eye wandering about the area and at the trophies.

”Hello!” Piérre pipped gaily, waving at the Slytherin Prefect. It was good that he had something to do on a Saturday other than homework, even if it was just going to be doing normal work. ”Piérre Marchonné here and reporting for duty!”

He stood in front of the prefect before giving a salute with the tips of his fingers at his brow, standing straight, as tall as he could muster with his five foot, frozen at attention, and waiting for instructions.

Even with his antics, he couldn’t help giving a small smile, one which caused his eyes to twinkle with undiluted mischief. He wasn’t planning on messing anything up here today, far from it. He wanted this to be the best polish the trophies would ever get, and he was going to have fun while doing it.

As one of his favorite movies put it;
In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun.
You find the fun and - SNAP - the job's a game.

@Koko Riddle, I think this would be another great opportunity for character develop together, so would you be okay with responding with this? Piérre is very talkative, and there’s probably going to be a few shenanigans Koko may want to either oversee or attempt to prevent...

Polish and clean trophies. Sounded easy enough. It sounded quite enjoyable, even though it probably would take a few hours at least. After all, the walls nearly spilled over with shining medals and trophies, and all of them needed to be shined so that they reflected even the sparsest glimmer of light. Koko had a sort of smug air about her, but Piérre had to hold back a laugh. It was almost as if she was trying to make him feel bad for having a detention! She was giving him a chance to unwind and not worry about the pressure going on around him. After all, he had nothing better to do. He wasn’t in Quidditch, classes had been slow, and he didn’t have enough money to go shopping for anything. If anything, Piérre should be thanking the Prefect.

Rolling up his sleeves, Piérre picked up the nearest dry rag, alongside with a polishing cloth, dipping it in the pail delicately, and began to set to work.

He didn’t know if the Prefect was watching him at all times, but he could tell, even with the trophies as dull as they were, that she was standing nearby, as if to watch him and prevent him from doing anything mischievous. His face was slightly blurry in the gleaming metal, but he could make out his green eyes and high cheekbones, and as soon as he even smeared the polish across its surface, it seemed to gleam sevenfold and his reflection became incredibly more obvious.

Piérre grinned cheekily at himself as he took the trophy in both hands, making sure to hold it int he cloth and not with his bare fingertips. After all, he knew what could happen if he smudged the metal. It would only create more work for him in the end, no matter how much he wanted to be here. Turning the trophy in his hands, he looked for the engraving on it, until he finally found what he was looking for: House Cup 1991, GRYFFINDOR. The writing was swirly and in a beautiful cursive, and Piérre couldn’t help but crease his brow as he continued to polish, trying to remember his history. If he remembered correctly, this had been Harry Potter’s first year in Hogwarts as a Gryffindor, just like Piérre.

Piérre glanced up at Koko, stopping in his cleaning as he attempted to strike up a conversation. ”1991. Gryffindor won the year’s cup, huh? Kind of an upset, wasn’t it?” Piérre turned the trophy once more. ”Where should I put the polished ones before I wash it? Don’t want them getting any more smudged than this, right? After all, if I can’t see the pores on my face, it just ain’t bright enough, is it?”

Once Piérre was instructed where to put the trophies, he would pull out the next one, taking his time with each before putting them aside with the first. He wanted to prove that he was more than a goofball when called upon.

@Koko Riddle

Piérre smiled as Koko’s tone minutely changed into the impression of amusement and the tiniest lift graced her face, a little awkward, more as if it had been slightly forced, but noticeable and more than a little genuine. To a causal listener, one may not have been able to notice the minimal change in tone, but to Piérre and with all his experience with having to read adults in order to get his voice to be heard and possessing experience from avoiding confrontations, whether it be with bullies or other individuals of that sort, Koko’s small joke was to Piérre like setting off a flare in the middle of an open field. He knew there had to be more to the at first sour Prefect. There was always a story behind the aloofness, and per his curiosity, Piérre was all ears.

Nodding as Koko affirmed his small question and answered his inquiry, Piérre then proceeded to place the silver trophy onto the indicated towel, taking the next one onto his hands and beginning to set to work upon it as well as he spoke, humming a small traditional Italian tune as he jumped off of Koko’s statement that Slytherin had had a long win streak and was hoping to return. ”Yeah, I hope Slytherin comes back, especially with the bad wrap we’ve had recently.” Piérre nearly forgot for a second that he was dressed as a snake, but was able to easily recover. If Koko was intuitive she might have noticed a small flicker in Piérre’s gaze, the tiniest indication that he was thinking on his feet. ”I don’t understand why everyone thinks that we’re nothing but ambitious villains. Sure, we’ve had bad apples in the past, but we’ve also had famous heroes as well. Merlin was thought to have been a snake and he helped King Arthur, didn’t he? And besides, every house has had a few bad apples at one point or another, right?”

It registered too late to Piérre that he realized that Koko’s last name also happened to be Riddle. Whether or not she was related to the Tom Riddle, Piérre was unsure, but he didn’t know whether or not Koko was likely to be bitter on the subject, so if she responded negatively to his previous comment, he was just going to let things lie, continuing to work diligently at polishing the case of trophies, which took about five minutes for him to complete a well-sized one, bigger than the first house cup he had finished. His rubbings became faster and more precise, and it wasn’t until he could hear the metal squeaking under the polishing cloth that he would move on to the next item in question.

”So,” Piérre said, breaking the silence again. ”I think I asked when you brought me back to the castle, but... are you going with anyone to the Masquerade on the 31st?” Piérre looked at his reflection in the metal, this time gold, in order to assure that it was polished enough. It wasn’t. Frowning, Piérre pulled a borderline funny plebeian move, exhaling on it to fog its surface to rub it even harder. When satisfied, he smiled and put it aside before picking up his next target. ”I mean, I’m not really seeking relationships yet, I’m probably going to be flying solo, but you look like a girl that a lot of boys would be stumbling over their feet for.” He chuckled, shrugging as he thought of what the night was probably going to be like for him. Lonely, definitely, but boring? Far from it. He was the party.

He continued to make some random small talk, stalking about and inquiring the histories of some of the trophies, certain details, memorable Quidditch matches and the sort, until with a contented and slightly accomplished sigh, Piérre finally finished the final shelf of trophies in the first case within about an hour and a half, stepping back from the case and the towel to admire his work. Of course, the countless sparkling trophies still needed to be washed, but that didn’t mean that the gleam of polished metal wasn’t already considered an achievement in the young Gryffindor’s eyes. He was always amazed by what his dedication and concentration could merit, especially since he couldn’t seem to stand still for more than three seconds at a time, and now seemed to prove that he had the capacity to focus, and his hard efforts was nothing to scoff at.

”Now I wash them after their polish dries?” He chirped with a smile, looking up at Koko to gauge her expression as he rubbed his hands and clasped them behind his back. He was a little more than eager to please and continue having a chat with the Prefect while observing the immortal names which were stacked all along the walls.

@Koko Riddle

The sound of Koko’s tiny giggle caught Piérre off guard and he glanced up at her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Laughter was his poison and antidote, and thankfully he had just been cured. Even if everything from here went downhill, he had the knowledge that he had made someone happy, and happy enough so to have them laugh aloud and make jokes of their own. He dropped the cloth and clasped both hands to his face. ”Noooo! Not the doughnuts!”

Talking with Koko was so different than talking to any of the people he had interacted with so far. Those people had been somewhat already outgoing like himself, almost eager to speak with him and jump in on any remark he made, but somehow, Koko seemed almost reserved, listening as opposed to trying to openly making a name for herself. True, while introverted people were harder for Piérre to connect with, that didn’t mean he hated their company. On the contrary, he found it refreshing to encounter people who could cope with his energy and cause him to focus it on something beneficial to both him and themselves. Koko seemed to be one of those people, and Piérre liked it, and it wasn’t just because she was enchantingly beautiful. There had to be some Veela in there, Piérre was convinced.

When he heard that she was also planning on attending the ball solo, Piérre was shocked, but held his tongue, keeping his confusion and surprise only to a small raising of his eyebrows as he slowed his polishing, locking eyes with her as he listened to everything Koko had to say after she had concluded a brief hacking fit, no doubt placed there because of her confusion and surprise with Piérre’s last statement.

Shy? Scared of everyone? Piérre tipped his head as he continued to wipe down the trophy. He couldn’t believe that at all. Yes, while it was entirely his place to be scared of everyone because he was the greenhorn of the school, he didn’t really feel intimidated by the other students. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a tad taller than most of his peers, especially for only being eleven, but for some reason, whenever he looked up at those seventh years, or even the second years for that matter, Piérre always saw the first year inside of them all. They were just another friend, another person that he could brighten the day of. Even if he felt absolutely terrible, there was no reason to make others feel his pain. Not if he could cheer them up while cheering himself up.

If Koko was shy, then he would help her not feel so uncomfortable. Now he had a job to do. A real job. Koko was such an intriguing individual, even though he had only met her now twice, and he couldn’t understand how people could not be enthralled with her, especially with the outwardly poise and beauty she exuded.

”You’re not scared of me, are you?” Piérre asked, almost a little foolishly as his eyes creased in worry. While he himself didn’t honk he looked scary or acted frightening, he hadn’t met some people already who had been a little blown away by how happy and go-lucky he was. He tended to push people away from himself as easily as he drew them in, and in both cases because he was a little to happy for some people’s comforts. ”I don’t try to act scary...”

He trailed off, feeling the sticky polish on his fingers and the cloth. It gave him something to mess with. A method to alleviate discomfort. He didn’t speak to people one on one very often, his tactic was to burst in, say something completely nutty, and then dash out. Having a detention didn’t let him do that, and truth be told, he was scared of one on one interaction. Perhaps even as much as Koko was scared of interacting with people in general. ”I... I’m not used to talking one on one either... I guess you could say I’m scared of it. But... what I’ve learned is that being scared shows how much courage you have.” Piérre whispered quietly, placing the gold trophy aside. He wasn’t sure if he should be sharing much, but he though it fair that if Koko was sharing her fears with him, he should at least return the favor. It was only polite, if nothing else.

”Lots of people think that being scared shows cowardice or weakness, and sometimes, like in my case, it’s right... but being scared shows others that you are not afraid to be yourself. By being frightened, you acknowledge what you are and are not capable of doing, and through that fear, you grow. You overcome those fears, along with the challenges that came with them, and you can then teach others how to overcome their own.” Piérre smiled softly, closing his eyes as he rocked back and forth, for he was sitting cross-legged on the ground at the time. ”We learn from fear, just as we learn from mistakes. We grow, we blossom, and we become all the wiser for it.”

After hearing Koko’s instructions, he placed the gold trophy aside and took a warm cloth, standing and taking a crystal trophy, ever careful to cradle it in his arms so that it wouldn’t fall and strike the ground. With careful hands, he began to clean its interior, admiring how the crystal seemed to become so much brighter without the grime covering the inside of it. After his short spiel, he went quiet, thinking over his own words.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you even want to talk to me,"

Koko’s soft voice snapped Piérre out of his reverie. He looked up to see Koko sitting crisscrossed on the empty towel, her skirt neatly laid out around her. Something in her voice had changed. It no longer held the tone it once did. It sounded genuine, quiet. As if the true user was now in front of Piérre instead of the mask. Her amber eyes seemed somehow a little brighter, not cold and convicted like before, and somehow, Piérre thought they looked almost... almost like stars. Definitively Veela.

”Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” Piérre responded, incredulous. ”You’ve not given me a reason to not talk to you and you don’t seem a terrible person. Maybe I’m just talkative, but you seem like an awesome individual!” Genuinely and truly. Even if he wanted to, Piérre would have a hard time lying. This was not an exception. ”I think you tolerate me more than I can tolerate myself!” Piérre finished cleaning the first crystal trophy, setting it aside, and spotted another one on another shelf further down.

Standing up quickly, Piérre made his way to it, a tiny bounce in his step as he carefully took it from its spot. It appeared to be a cheaper replica of the Triwizard Cup. The real thing, Piérre was sure, would not be in the common trophy are for fear of theft. Something he didn’t blame. In certain circumstances, he would have been tempted to steal such a prize. As it was, though, Piérre had a job, and the looting spree would have to wait for another time. That didn’t stop him, however, from turning it around and looking at its every facet ad he made his way back.

”Triwizard Tourney.... Cool...” Without looking up at Koko, he continued to shine it, making his way back to where he was before. ”Dangerous tasks, character developer, and for a cherry, eternal glory... I could care less about the eternal glory, though, I would honestly join just so that I could say that I was part of it!” Piérre’s heart jumped as he imagined the competition taking place in Hogwarts while he was still schooled and the correct age. He was far too young, but it didn’t hurt to have ambition. ”Fighting dragons, making your way in the unknown, facing foes and making allies... Adventure at every turn...” Piérre paused before resolving his thought, “A chance to prove that you are capable of the impossible.”

*Chaos Ensuing*

Perhaps it was because the trophy was so intriguing with its enchantingly beautiful designs, perhaps it was because Piérre didn’t have great perception. Perhaps it was even because it was in his nature, but somehow the little Gryffindor forgot where he was standing and walking towards in the Trophy room, and by proxy, had forgotten where he had placed the silver polish bucket. Therefore, when his foot hit the still half-fuel container, he was a little more than shocked.

With a sudden, small gasp of surprise, followed up by a short. ”Oh that’s where I left it,” Piérre toppled head over heels, landing on his stomach where had had originally been standing. The trophy, held securely in his arms, by some stroke of impossible fortune, was cradled tightly to his chest, and combined with two he fact that Piérre had tried his best to land upon his side, it suffered no damage.

As for the silver polish, however, well... Piérre had not been so lucky. His foot had caught on the metal handle of the bucket, and so when he had tripped over it, his foot had hooked in the handle, and when he had tripped, he brought the bucket with him, causing it to spill mostly across his legs and back, but also causing it to spatter within a foot’s radius of where he stood. Again, he had been lucky that the trophies already polished had not been dirtied, but the glasses protecting the untouched trophies received dollops of spattering silver for their troubles. By the time the pail resolved its new location, hung over Piérre’s foot and sideways on the ground, lo and behold, a grand, new mess was created.

It took Piérre a moment to realize that he hadn’t died from the fall, for his eyes were squeezed shut and his pointed ears had fallen back the way a scolded dog would fold its ears back, and when the sounds had concluded, Piérre gingerly opened an eye, still grimacing with the pain of falling, and glanced around to look at the mess he had made... again.

He looked at the trophy in his arms, unharmed and perfectly clean, then looked back at the room. Trophy, room... Trophy... room... Shit.

”Uh... Um... I... Oh...” Were the only words that left him as his cheeks started to heat. Slowly getting onto his hands and knees, and feeling the pail rattle on his ankle, Piérre repositioned himself to sit up, observing his once green shirt now a mixture of sparkling silver and messy green in a streak down his chest. He was a mess.

Putting a hand to his head, Piérre regretted it, for as he found out soonafter, a glob of silver polish had found itself in his palm, and he had smeared it across his forehead in his confusion and embarrassment. ”Oh...” He bit his lip, glancing up at Koko fleetingly. She had to be angry now. He had just ruined everything. He had just ruined every chance he had had in trying to make a friend and get her to come out of her shell. She probably didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

”I... I’m so... I’m so sorry....” He shook his head, his piqued ears lowering further as warm pinpricks touched his eyes. ”I didn’t... I didn’t mean to... I’m so sorry...” He shook his head.

Unhooking the pail, Piérre stood shakily, wobbling on his feet as he looked at the mess. His mind went into overdrive. What could he do to improve the situation? Where could he find more cleaning supplies?

Idea.

”I... I’ll go to the caretaker’s office!” Piérre snapped his fingers, spattering silver polish on accident. ”Oops... I’ll clean up as much as I can with the cloths, but there has to be something else in the caretaker’s office, right?”

Piérre hoped that Koko would agree with him. He hoped there was a way he could remedy his foolish errors.

*Koko, if this is inconvenient, let me know, and I’ll retcon it!*

@Koko Riddle

Piérre felt his cheeks flushing warmly as Koko said that he should stay behind and work. He didn’t have anything against working, but it was the fact that her voice betrayed no disappointment that made him a little nervous and even more upset with his clumsiness. In a few minutes, if you asked him about the situation, he would only laugh it off, the court jester that he was, but in the moment, nothing could make him feel much better about himself, even if he had been praised for his actions instead of looked at narrowly.

As it was, it still seemed that the First year Gryffin in disguise still had some work to do. Nodding hastily, Piérre stood, ever careful not to let the silver polish spread unnecessarily, as he unhooked the pail from his ankle and set it on a towel, allowing the polish that was on the outside of the pail to drip onto the towel instead of on the floor itself. Smiling quietly back up at Koko, Piérre felt his piqued ears lower in the way they did when he was embarrassed or when he was scolded. ”Sorry about that again...” He said, wiping off the silver which now adorned his brow. ”Did you get any on you?”

Piérre picked up a towel, looking at Koko with concern. If she did find any polish on her, he would offer the towel and take another one, to clean the mess on himself, and if she didn’t need it, he would use the towel to begin on the floor after wiping what he could of the silver off of his green sweater.

When he was ready to clean his sweater, Piérre looked down at it, a little upset. ”Was my favorite sweater too...” He trailed off. ”Oh well, nothing a launder can’t fix.” he picked at the silver splotch, which looked as if an artist had flicked their paintbrush casually at an easel’s canvas. The splotches looked... almost artistic. Silver really did look good with green, didn’t it?

Piérre thought about it a little longer. Maybe the sweater didn’t need to be cleaned after all. He really did like the metallic sheen on it. It added character. Maybe he would ‘forget’ to wash it, at least until the sweater gained the stain.

But back to cleaning the actual mess. Since he was now covered in the polish, and had now dedicated himself to keeping the stain in his sweater, he was less afraid of becoming messy, kneeling on a towel to save his pants and then beginning to mop up the rest of the silver, using a wet rag when he got to the part of the silver closest and sticking to the floor. While he was working, he began to hum softly, just a small melody he enjoyed whenever he had to do a task. It was a song that the Bianchis had taught him, and one that he had memorized by watching the movie that had first awed him.

”Con un poco di zucchero la pillola va giù,
la pillola va giù, pillola va giù.
Basta un poco di zucchero e la pillola va giù.
Tutto brillerà di più!”

After finishing the familiar refrain (which was, of course ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’ from Mary Poppins), Piérre whistled the robin’s part from the movie before going quiet, musing about the show and how enthralled he had been by it. His favorite character by far had to be Bert, who was played by Dick VanDyke, and reminded him painfully of his own personality. Carefree, impish, and always creative.

”Cam caminì, cam caminì, spazzacamin,
allegro e felice, pensieri non ho,
cam caminì, cam caminì spazzacamin,
la sorte è con voi se la mano vi do.

Scelgo le spazzole proprio a puntin,
con una la canna , con l'altra il camin.

Là, dove il fumo si perde nel ciel
Lo spazzacamino ha il suo mondo più bel.
Tra la terra e le stelle di Londra nel cuor
Rischiara la notte un vago chiaror.
Sopra i tetti di Londra.
Oh, che splendor!”

Finally, after he had finished the chimney sweep song, Piérre sighed contentedly, placing the last towel aside as he viewed his handiwork. Most of the silver had been cleaned up and other than himself, everything looked nice and clean. As far as the polishing of the trophies, he could safely say that he had enjoyed a thorough shining, and would be cleaning his clothes at a later date.

Standing up, he looked back to Koko, putting his hands on his hips. ”Looks good, no? Se is bellavista!” Without realizing it, Piérre had slipped into Italian lisp, and it wouldn’t be until someone told him of his slipup that he would notice. His ‘r’s rolled fluently and his vowels elongated. Singing even the most childish of songs had revealed that Piérre, despite his outwardly high and immature voice, had the makings of an operatic tenor, for his voice, while lacking in the range of a practiced singer, had a controlled, warm tone, clear as a bell and without any cracks or missed notes.

He rocked on his feet, waiting for Koko to give him a response of encouragement or critique. It had been at least an hour since he had first been here, perhaps longer, but unless he was told to go away, he rather wanted to spend time here, chatting it up with the Prefect.