Desperate Measures PV Maisie

Late afternoon rays spread across the courtyard, drousing them all in golden light. Even though the sun was presumably hot, the heat it gave Scotland was just a fraction of it's normal strong rays in the summer. In other words, it was cold, and desolate. The girl who looked so tiny in her black robes hurried through the courtyard, eagerly awaiting relaxing in a corner of the courtyard, listening the the noise around her, and doing her homework. She had finished some of the weekend's homework, even getting a head start on Transfiguration and Charms for next week. She was a Hufflepuff, not a Ravenclaw, but she still wanted to achieve the best grades.

The courtyard was full of noise, as students stretched in the weak rays, anticipating the two day rest, and the fact that homework need not be worried about till the next day.

Finding a corner behind a statue of Merlin-Knows-Who, she settled down and opened her satchel, taking out a roll of parchment and a quill. This was 2025, so she thought for yet another minute, why, just why, they were not able to use muggle pens, instead resorting to feathers and ink.

When she looked up, the sun was setting lower, but the chatter was getting louder. She was about to look down again, when she caught sight of a foreign-looking boy. He didn't look English: for one, his skin was darker, and he seemed to be annoyed. Ah well, who'd have to deal with him would be in for a hard time.

Not one for much gossip, even she heard about this new transfer boy form Castelobruxo. She knew her fair share of foreign schools, her mother having been in Ilvermorny, some of her other relatives in Beauxbatons and Durmstang, but that was about it. Castelobruxo sounded like a tropical and humid school, which wouldn't be much comfortable. Apparently he did something bad and got expelled, but although gossip tended to be wrong, this seemed about it.

He definitely looked very out of place. He was the herbology professor's son, wasn't he? She didn't know much about the doings of her professors, so she wouldn't be too sure, but they did have the same surname, and usually, people holding surnames that don't seem English were related, especially in a (relatively) small school.

Ah well, gossiping isn't good for one, as her mother would always say. She was a first year, she ought to know her place-- somewhere definitely not gossiping about other older students. Back to studying, she thought, looking down once more.

@Alphonse Toussaint

♕- Late Afternoon of Sept. 5th, 2025 | Courtyard, Hogwarts -♕

Conniving, is what it was—but not of poor faith or bad ilk.

This is what the Toussaint boy reassured himself of as his gaze explored the Courtyard's gothic aesthetic and its inhabitants' decorum, but even he questioned the morality of his actions nonetheless. With the Headliner's deadline rapidly approaching, Alphonse didn't have time to care, but even if he did, would he?

He had long since made temporary residence on a lonely bench, lounging back in a relaxed manner as the Gryffindor surveyed the settings and attempted to ignore the undeniable probing glances of his peers. No surprise there as Alphonse had been the talk of Hogwarts since his Sorting among the fresh set of First Years—being the very first international transfer student Hogwarts has ever received within its historic walls. A turn of a new era for the Scottish magical institution, surely. The attention that the title garnered him, along with his already-existing reputation from Castelobruxo, only fed his massive, boyish ego.

For now, Alphonse set aside the hubris and realigned his formerly-wavering intentions on his mission. In the forefront of his psyche, there was only time, motivation, and space for one particular agenda at the moment: headliner. Noting as most of the Courtyard's residents were among groups—this wouldn't bode the Gryffindor well considering he'd be outnumbered amid his aims. The Toussaint boy heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly rose onto his long legs to prospect elsewhere. That was until his oak-brown gaze unintentionally landed upon a lonesome brunette behind a statue of some gargoyle-looking thing.

Their eyes had met in a quick, random instance, and Alphonse promptly flashed the girl a disarming and kind smile—as if to display that he was no threat. That he was not the boy whose name was attached to brutish deeds and getting expelled for fighting. That Alphonse was truly a kindred spirit worth helping in desperate times.

Only time would tell if this gesture of good faith would further his aims. It wasn't as though the Gryffindor would give the brunette girl the choice either way but to assist in his dilemma—but it was a start.

Approaching her, Alphonse noted the brunette first year nose-deep and eyes locked onto a parchment. The boy wouldn't be able to read it clearly without his reading glasses, but saw what appeared to be words! Real words! That alone was enough to satiate his growing desperation.

"Hey, you," he greeted with a smile, as if they'd known each other awhile, "You know about Headliner—the Newspaper team, yes?" the lion-boy inquired, taking a seat a few feet away from the girl.

——mentions. @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams
——notes. --

She met his gaze for a fraction of a second, and he smiled. What kind of person who got expelled smiled at people? She looked down quickly, remembering the gossip she overhead in the bathrooms.

Her whole body stiffened when she heard the voice unfamiliar to one who was so accustomed to the British accents. The boy had approached her. Holy Merlin. She thought, as she slowly raised her head to meet the gaze of the foreign boy gossip had been directed at.

What did she do to get someone who was expelled to talk with her? Surely he was not looking for someone to help him in blowing up the castle or something like that! She was only at school for a week, and she didn't want to be sent packing her bags so soon.

He spoke.

Oh wait, he just wanted to know about the Hogwarts Headliner. Phew. She was almost certain he was going to rope her to do evil biddings. Turns out he just wanted to know something. But why was he smiling? She remembered a muggle fairytale with a wolf in grandma clothes. This was not so unlike it, the girl decided, staring into the older boy's eyes.

"Y-yes. Why?" She cursed herself when her words came out in a stammer. Everyone knows that that was a sign of weakness. And weakness would get her expelled.

@ Alphonse Toussaint

♕- Late Afternoon of Sept. 5th, 2025 | Courtyard, Hogwarts -♕

Her stammer—it permeated a subtlety of nervousness that the Toussaint boy both yearned to hear and regretted all the same.

His charming smile never waned as Alphonse heeded the first year's words; she knew about Headliner, and a subsequent sigh of relief slipped from the boy's lips. The Gryffindor's plan was steadily falling into place with far more flawlessness and finesse than he'd expected considering his desperation and lack of time or interest. Her already-obtained knowledge boded well for the Toussaint progeny's waning patience—saving them both a magnitude of time that neither quite had to give. The deadline for Headliner was fastly approaching, and soon the girl would bear the weight of racing against time for a boy she barely knew.

"Eso chevere. I'm Alphonse Toussaint, a reporter and editor for the newspaper team. I'm new here," he spoke casually, dry amusement and challenge in his tone. She likely knew this information already—only someone living under a rock wouldn't, but the Gryffindor would play the polite charade well despite the internal questioning of his ethics. "You are?" That's great

Extending his hand for a shake, Alphonse couldn't help but chuckle as the words came from his lips. Why bother dragging this out more than required?

"Look, these big British words...English in general... It's confusing. But my mama insisted I join the team to get involved. Sabes?" he added with a performative self-deprecatory smile as he gingerly tapped the corner of her parchment, "But rumor has it that you're among the best writers in your year." you understand?

Charming his peers was among Alphonse's arsenal of tools, so why not throw in some false flattery while he was laying it on thick.

"So, what you're gonna do is write two articles for me to prove it. Don't care what they're about, I just need 'em by Monday. No later than. Claro?"

——mentions. @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams
——notes. ooc: i wrote two articles; one for professors the other on prefects. went into more detail here

"Hi... Alphonse. I'm uh Maisie. Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams." She said awkwardly. There was a question she wanted to ask, though impolite, which was how someone joins the newspaper team in their first week at Hogwarts.

She could not understand the foreign language he spoke, never having heard it before. What was it she was agreeing to? Selling her soul? It had been drummer into her to always read the small text for anything.

"English isn't hard...,"she said cautiously, still a bit afraid of the taller boy, ""You already speak pretty well..."

A pause. Was she to offer help? Was that why he approached her? It was all making sense. She thought at first it was because she looked at him, turns out he wanted help. She let out a breathe of relief. Thank Merlin she wasn't going to lose her life first week here for staring. Thank Merlin.

She was surprised as he went on, saying she was one of the best in her year. True, she adores reading and writing, but she didn't know anyone, and her brothers were unlikely to brag about their little sister. So how did he get this piece of information? Unless it was bluffing, a scheme to get her to help him?

She would have helped him even if he hadn't praised her. She was a Hufflepuff, that was what she did. It cost nothing to be kind, and she liked helping people.

Helping him kickstart his career with an article was on her bingo card; even helping him with grammar and all that were on said card, she didn't receive an expensive education for nothing, but writing two whole passages?? She wasn't going to have a free Saturday afternoon. And what was she going to write it about? She was as good as a ghost: invisible, in the vast halls. She knew not one and nothing, how was she going to find two newspaper -worthy events to report?

"I'll help you, sure..."

@ Alphonse Toussaint