Guy Fawkes And Friends

Mikey let her words drop like dust into the quiet of study hall. And he could tell that Graci was thinking. Thinking about nothing and everything at the same time like he was. He nodded, eyes on the ink structures she'd been building. "It totally makes sense, really," he breathed, as if to say otherwise would scare the thought off. "Because. just because you know it's a normal thing doesn't mean it's okay. It still weighs on you."

He looked at her again, more confident. "And for what it's worth, I don't think you're speaking rubbish. That spite you were talking about? That's what gets the job done sometimes I think. You feel big things. That's something you don't need to be sorry for."

Mikey hesitated. Then brushed his hair off of his forehead again like it had somehow made his brain too loud. “I didn’t think I’d be having a conversation like this today either. Most days it’s just me vs. quill-ink explosions or dodging questions about whether I’ve done my Potions homework.” He chuckled and then nodded toward her page once more. "But give me grand ideas and art over potion fumes any day."

And then he lapsed into silence, quill tapping against chin. "If that is a style of art and not an official one, well we have to come up with a name for it. 'Laren Logic' or 'Graci Geometry' or something. Bet it'd be pretty cool to bring to life. The whirls would shift with whatever you'd want to do at the moment, like a mood ring but a whole lot more substantial."

He glanced around and saw how long it had been since they started talking. The room that had been packed was now hardly occupied with a few scattered students grumbling over books. "I guess I should go write something that sort of resembles a paragraph." His quill whirred again in his hand before he looked back over at her again. "But hey, if you ever want to exchange thoughts for thoughts again sometime, I'd be in." He grinned at her again, wearily, but a full-out genuine one before he returned to his parchment and started writing his report finally.

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Graci had just hit a massive wall. A metaphorical one, obviously. And for absolutely no reason, too. She had probably just used too much of her philosophical thoughts for the day, but that seemed unreasonable to the brick wall.

Sheesh, I really am looky. That wall knocked me out real good.
...
Merlin, did I eat something?

She was still zoned in enough to nod along with his words, feeling appreciative that he didn't say she was weird and moved away.

"I mean, my art isn't that good, but thank you. At first I thought you were talking about deep thoughts so I was confused. I am low-key so out of it now, though, so I cant really trust my brain as of one minute ago."

She laughed a bit, laying her head down on her book. Potentially getting ink on her face. She decided she didn't care. It'll wash off in a few days. I've done worse with pens, it'll be fine.

"Have fun with your paragraph that only slightly resembles one. I'll be here, mid crashout. I did not hit the wall. The wall hit me."

Graci knew she was supposed to be studying, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. I don't really care much for anything at this particular time, though.

Mikey raised his head from the page he'd finally talked himself into beginning to fill out. He smiled at the sight of Graci spread out across her book like a flower wilting in a storm. He rested against one elbow on the table tilting slightly in the chair so he could keep one eye on her without feeling like a creep. "You sure you're ok?" he joked, the glint of humor floating on top of the fatigue in his tone. "Because I'm pretty sure that wall wasn't there before we spoke."

He smiled again and put his quill down, glancing at his finished paragraph. "Also, I was discussing profound thoughts. And your artwork. I had the idea that I'd leave it up to interpretation, sort of like one of the riddles of those older Ravenclaws post in my dorm. It's good either way. So yes, your brain is amazing, and so do your doodles." For a minute or two he simply let the silence hang there. He enjoyed it. It was like a shared silence that only existed with certain individuals. Individuals who did not make you continue to act in order to be worth your time.

"Seriously?" he said, nervously picking at the corner of his parchment. "This is the most I've ever actually spoken in a study room. Most of the time I just sit there and improvise a lot of smart sounding phrases to fill in for the fact that I have no clue what I'm doing." He let out a gentle laugh. "But this?" He gestured vaguely between them. "This was real. Like, not school real. Just… people real."

Then, as if catching himself at the edge of being too strict again, he clicked his throat and sat up straighter, fingers drumming a new beat. "Anyway. If the wall does get a little too militant, we can always stage a protest. Write angry letters or something." He stopped. And although he returned to holding his quill and started work on his next paragraph, his smile remained low key, and in reserve.

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"Well, you know. Mental walls have a habit of smacking me and yeeting bricks at me... Gosh, I really am unhinged."

Graci was mentally banging her head against the wall, embarrassed for her word choice. Like, who even said 'yeeting'. Or talked about sentient mental walls.

"Riddles in dorm rooms? That sounds quite interesting. Ravenclaw has always intrigued me. The only house that you really have to do something just to enter. And thank you." It was quite nice of him. Usually people didn't understand why she doodled as she did. Or the way she thought. But they just couldn't understand, though they said it didn't make sense because 'she was only eleven'. And to that she said, in her head, of course, 'and they think I'm the immature one'.

"I don't really talk in the study room either, I guess it's called a study room and not a talking room for a reason, but I don't think we've really bothered anyone. Some people have left by now anyway. And people real is nice."

She chuckled at his wall comment. "Ah yes. Graffiti. Defeating walls since 2024. How could I forget."

Graci sat up and closed her book, putting it back into her bag, figuring slouching on a table wasn't the best for politely conversing. Occasionally she could remember her manners. Occasionally.

Mikey let out a laugh at her wall comment, shaking his head like he was trying not to smile but failing completely. “Mental walls chucking bricks sounds exactly like my experience with this class,” he said. “One moment I’m fine, the next I’m ducking for cover. You’re not unhinged, by the way, unless that makes two of us. In which case, we’re just. Creatively hanging.”

He leaned forward, chin resting on one hand and elbows on the table, as he did when his mind had moved out of school mode and into something more connected. "I used to think Ravenclaw would be straight A's and bookworms correcting your grammar every time you opened your mouth, but it's stranger than that. Not bad strange just. every person's head is sort of to the side. Sort of like you said. Swirls and riddles and individuals who do not exactly communicate things in the same way that everybody else does.”

He stopped and smiled. "So, when you said that thing you said about, well, not being enough to be remembered? Yeah. I understand. Really. I have days when I feel like I'm doing everything I should be doing and still coming up short. Like I'm invisible in the worst possible ways." He blinked, a bit startled at himself for having said so, and shrugged.

He picked up his quill again and spun it again watching it balance between his fingers before continuing. “I think people being real should happen more often. And honestly, graffiti’s the best idea I’ve heard all week. Especially if we’re spray-painting metaphorical walls with facts about Guy Fawkes and existential dread. I’d definitely sign my name on that.”

The smile came back, and he glanced over at her as she gathered up her belongings. He dipped his quill again to the parchment, prepared to pretend to show some real productivity now, though, it did not at all resemble pretending. He finished writing the second paragraph and looked up again.

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"Unhinged together, I suppose. And when I think of Ravenclaw now, it's much like you said. From how I see it, it isn't about always finding the right answer, but an acceptable one. Because with riddles you could really spend all day trying to figure out the right answer, when there really is not way of knowing."

She knew it could possibly be wrong as Mikey was the only Ravenclaw she had talked to. Other than that she only knew the stereotypes and her own thoughts. She was most likely off, but she didn't particularly care.

"Sometimes it's nice to be invisible. Not all the time, sometimes it hurts, but sometimes it's nice to know that you don't have to be perfect."

Graci felt like she was sprouting off nonsense or channelling her inner Shakespeare. Eh, I was never one to be above insanity. Though I was hoping for the insanity to kick in a bit later, maybe mid sixties. This is far too early to be mentally ill.

Now that she was just talking, not doodling anymore, her hands felt strangely empty. Enter wand.

Since getting it at Ollivander's earlier that year she had always been rather fascinated with it. It was so cool. But she did wonder why they gave literal weapons to eleven year olds.

Mikey’s quill paused mid-word, a faint blot of ink blooming like a bruise on the parchment. He didn’t bother to blot it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair again, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders gave a satisfying crack. Graci’s words had pulled him out of essay mode and back into thought mode. More dangerous, but familiar territory.

"'Unhinged together,'" he said, with a small smile. "Sounds like a club. One which would probably not be sanctioned by Hogwarts, of course, but the best ones always are like that, y'know?"

He leaned his head to one side, thinking over what she'd said about Ravenclaw and riddles. "You're right. About the answers. Oftentimes, the riddles aren't even cleverness dependent, they're about how you perceive something. It's oddly reassuring, really.". Like. If you look at the world sideways, sometimes you're nearer to the truth." He gave a shrug.

And then he looked at her again, slightly more warmly. "You said invisible but perhaps not necessarily perfect. That rang true, actually. I think sometimes I try too hard to be helpful or stimulating or not. forgettable. And it doesn't work. People notice the trying and not me, I guess?" He smiled. "You do, though. You notice things other people don't. I think that's something pretty cool."

He looked down at the front of the study hall as a book was slammed shut and someone walked out noisily. There were only a few students left now, the room falling into silence with the evening light streaming across the big windows. He looked again at his paper, which was now filled with three complete paragraphs and an increasing galaxy of splatters of ink.

"If you ever do want to start that graffiti revolution against metaphysical expectation, I'm in," he said. "We'll scrawl riddles and strange truths on the walls. And maybe some atrociously sketched broomsticks for kicks." He tapped the tip of his quill against the table once, twice, three times. "Thanks for today, Graci. You made it a little less like I was swimming in my head with all this." Then at last he settled to his work, but this time more gently, the words coming more easily.

"Ah yes, the unsanctioned club that has an oddly catchy name, but the weirdest stuff happens at it. Or I assume there would be plenty of weirdos, if any attended at all." But then again, it's not a thing, and will never be so it's not worth spending so many words on.

"Hm 'If you look at the world sideways, sometimes you're nearer to the truth'. What if I look at it upside down? Will I be even closer to the truth' or just have the blood rush to my head?"

Graci knew she either sounded funny or a little insane. {She preferred the term sleep deprived.} Ah, woe is me. The wacky pre-teen no one is sure what to do with.

Noticing things is a speciality of mine, I suppose. Well, not when I'm outside.The people have a habit of walking up behind me and scaring the pixie dust right out of me. It hadn't happened many times, but enough to make it a little odd.

"I'm up for graffiti vandalism against mental walls any day, and it has been quite nice to talk to you. But I best be off before my sleep deprived brain sprouts off more nonsense. Good evening and good luck with your Guy Fawkes... paper essay... thing. I hope my meagre knowledge helped."

Mikey chuckled under his breath at her upside-down truth theory, picturing her hanging off the back of a chair in the middle of class, looking contemplative and completely unbothered. "If you do that and your brain doesn't fly out, I'd say you're half a philosopher already," he grinned.

He shoved his legs out under the table and allowed his eyes to wander to the high, dusty windows, where the very last sliver of afternoon sunlight was beginning to slant gold. "Honestly, I believe that most good ideas originate in people who are a little sideways. Or upside-down. Or awake all night."

He turned back to her, smiling. “And your nonsense? Actually, pretty good. Not even nonsense, if I’m being honest. Sometimes it takes the not so serious stuff to get to the stuff that is good.”

As she got up to go, he gave a brief wave with fingers smudged black. "Thanks for noticing, by the way. Not me so much, but like. everything. I think that's less common than people give it credit for."

And then he returned to his page smiling to himself, and, for the first time that day, wrote something that didn't feel like it was being forced.