Missing Person PV: Flash Holmwood

Flash's eyes wandered around the library searching for help, but George's remained forward, watching carefully. Every reaction told him something, probably. He'd read partway through a detective novel that had said something like that. A reporter was like a detective, only instead of catching criminals, they caught everybody. Anybody with something to hide, that is. But now they were just chatting - talking about their careers. It was the first time the little reporter had met such a career-driven preteen.

"Do you have a standard to maintain? You're not even using your real name. You've always got the old one to fall back on if you need to," he said, with a shrug. He certainly did not see it as a career. His father was a career-driven person, but he was also unemployed, so it didn't always pay to be someone who minded their career. "The connections you form? You mean like... having friends?"

George found himself quite amused by the other boy's responses. It was the kind of answers he'd expect to hear from a politician from a news interview, deftly dodging the hard questions and replying with little barbs to the ones he felt confident on. He had lost track of the story about Valerius, but was composing another about Demetrius, no notebook required. The chipmunk-cheeked young Hufflepuff chewed his lip for a moment, glancing down at the cover of his journal.

His brother is a saint? A bold claim, but not one that set off too many alarm bells for little George. People overstated things, even when they were telling the truth. His own brother had the capacity to be a saint or the devil depending on the day, but he tended to round out toward 'pretty good'. He would assume the same of Valerius. All of the references he'd checked gave no reason to doubt the elder Holmwood's kind heart. But when Flash took the comment back, however - George checked back into the conversation. He had said something he didn't mean to. Valerius could do something wrong. Perhaps he already had.

"Your sister is a squib?" George repeated in a hushed tone, not wanting to spread the news any further than their table. Squibs were a bit of a distasteful topic - a fate too horrible to contemplate for anyone born among wizards. George's quill tapped against the cover of his closed journal, desperate to spill more ink. "Squib rights - that must be a dangerous pursuit right now, what with everything going on..."

George kept that little expression of sympathy quiet, ending with a solemn shake of his head. Maybe Flash didn't know what was going on - if he asked, it'd give a chance to keep the conversation rolling and hear a little more.

"Some of it I knew," he admitted, though his quill taps insistently against the top of his journal, the student pinching it between two fingers. Then, suddenly, he gave it up. He didn't need to write it - he would remember. "He sounds like a very nice man. And really smart."

Flash had learned a few things about himself in the past months. One was that he was particularly weak to being annoyed. It was perhaps what soured him on Burnett so quickly-- that drilling pain in his ego that told him his counterpart wanted to make a fool of him. Take him down a peg, make sure he knew he couldn’t get too comfortable or he would pay for it.

George was annoying, though perhaps through no real fault of his own. Would Flash have been as annoyed if he had asked him about his opinion on something he wanted to talk about? Ah, but that was it, wasn’t it? He was annoying because he didn’t care how uncomfortable this conversation was making Flash. He didn’t get it, and he acted like as long as he didn’t understand it, it may as well not matter.

”Friends, acquaintances, allies… troublemakers.”

It was hard to gauge the reason for his continued interest once Flash had exonerated his brother. Flash frowned visibly when George said the magic words: Your sister is a squib? He knew he said too much, that was Marius’ business to tell people, not his.

Not that it was something to be ashamed of. At least, that’s what everyone in the family always said. Nothing to be ashamed of. He knew that it was just pretty words, it was easy to feel it when you lived inside of it. He always heard Val and Darius talk about how different she was, before she knew. Flash never knew that side of her, he was born only months before she had discovered the truth.

”Yes.” Flash affirmed his question flatly, even though it was rhetorical. More an expression of surprise.

In fact, he had found most people in the school assumed he was a pureblood wizard. He didn’t talk about his blood purity either, or frankly anything at all about himself. At the start of the year, it was because he thought he was surrounded by enemies on all sides, trying to ruin him. What was George’s angle anyway? Now he had the audacity to bring up the reason squib rights was such a controversial subject these days? It was implied.

”Of course. He gets death threats. They say he’s trying to promote terrorism. It’s… he handles it well.”

Flash continued to answer, even though he was free to hold his peace. In part, he liked being able to talk about Val for once. Maybe if George grasped how incredible he was, he would realize why Flash couldn’t bear to be compared to him. No, if that were true he would have already realized it by now, wouldn’t he? As it stood, he still seemed to be asking the kinds of questions he might have asked for the original interview. Now that he wasn’t going to write it, why did he care?

”He is.” Flash sighed, clearly exasperated. ”May I ask what exactly you want this information for? Are you perhaps planning to send him a death threat yourself?”

Of course he didn’t imagine that was anywhere near the truth, but the hyperbole would lighten the severity of his question.

@George Henry

"If you're looking to form connections with troublemakers I can fix you up," George teased, with a little laugh and a smile that brought out his chipmunk cheeks once again. Friends, acquaintances, and allies were a different matter entirely. He had most of his by virtue of being Hufflepuff. Beyond that, he felt like he was doing pretty poorly in terms of the amount of friendships he had. Maybe it was because he always introduced himself in such annoying ways.

Flash seemed displeased that George had asked for confirmation that the Slytherin's sister was a squib, something that made George tilt his head slightly. How could you be upset that someone is asking you about something that you just told him? That was journalism, I guess. People made things known, and then got mad when you knew about them.

"That must be difficult. My big brother's a muggle and he isn't very happy that I get to go to boarding school without him," George said. It was an unusual break from the boy's usual routine as a thorn in someone's side - a genuine expression of sympathy, complete with a solemn nod and a bit of relatable personal information. "Can't imagine being the only one who can't do magic."

Of course, he didn't keep that up for long. Although he stayed silent and respectful as Flash spoke about Val's 'promotion of terrorism', he couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter when he was asked if he intended to add his own death threat to the pile. He quieted down to a snicker as a few stern glares and shushing sounds made it in his direction.

"Does he accept fan mail, or is it only death threats?" The idea that Flash would resent standing in the shadow of his older brother was a foreign concept to him. To George, the relationship between brothers was one of equals - although it might not have seemed that way to George's brother, given that one of the equals could perform magic now. George could see no shadow as he was the one casting it. As the younger brother, he would never even consider that a possibility. "Would he answer a few questions for me directly if I sprinkled a death threat or two in there?"

George paused, glancing down at his notebook and tapping the cover with his quill. His head was suddenly full of ideas. None of them were about his article any more, however. He was caught up in the conversation and had heard just about as many juicy bits of information as he had an appetite for. Work was done, time for play.

"I could cut a few letters out of my Charms magazine and do one of those ransom collages."

@Flash Holmwood

Though Flash was at the mercy of George’s curiosity, he had indeed not entirely hated the direction the conversation began to flow down. Interestingly, George began to use a tactic Flash was getting more accustomed to-- or, perhaps from him it wasn't a ‘tactic’, but more a normal part of the natural flow of conversation. He was opening up and sharing something personal. Relating. On the surface level, it was clear that the two of them had very little in common, but that had never stopped Flash from relating to someone before. Inside, they were all just electrical signals firing off.

”Your brother is a muggle?” Flash’s voice was even and flat, but his brows were lifted in his own curiosity. ”Are you saying you were the opposite, someone who unexpectedly was magical despite having muggle parents?”

Flash was not particularly interested in the unending argument about blood and magical purity, but vastly interested in how different the two cultures seemed to raise children. There was a divide less because of purity, and more because of the massive cultural disconnect between people who participated in muggle activities and those who were oblivious of it. Flash himself always felt like a muggle, with how rarely magic was a part of his life. They would have visitors over from the Ministry of Magic sometimes, but his father being a muggle himself, they had continued on with their muggle maids and muggle business. His brothers never really did any magic around the house, since it was forbidden away from Hogwarts.

Most of his knowledge about magic had come second hand, but for someone like George, it was a complete mystery up until the day he got his letter, presumably. Flash’s natural instinct was to start asking his own questions. He could almost be mad at him for being both annoying and interesting at the same time-- troublemakers always were.

Then, the clincher. Even if George was a master of deduction and reading implicit intent, there was no way he could have known he was endearing himself to the erudite scion. Perhaps if he hadn’t been twelve, he would have known how common the taste for dark humor was in gifted children, but as it stood, he was nearly defenseless against the delight it brought him.

Therefore, bringing his hand to his mouth in a futile attempt to stifle it, Flash snorted in short bursts of closed-mouth laughs. It was the result of trying too hard to keep it completely concealed that he made himself more obvious. Having no recourse in pretending he was not amused by the thought, he allowed himself a real laugh thereafter, though muffled through his hand.

When George continued, perhaps goaded on, speaking of cut out magazine letters, Flash’s laugh was reinvigorated, and he struggled to keep himself at an appropriate volume for the library. The house elves were already none too happy with the pair, and much more interruption would undoubtedly have been cause for removing them from the library completely. With that in mind, Flash took a deep breath to try to calm the storm.

It was no use, in trying to stop, it only made the laughter more eager to escape. He snorted again, this time having to actually hold his mouth shut. Even his eyes betrayed him, showing a wetness from the effort of trying not to bust a gut. Breathing through his nose, he was shortly able to recollect himself, though a crooked smile was inexorably unable to be wiped from his face as he finally let go of it.

”Excuse me…” Flash spoke like a sigh, his tone one of incredulousness. ”I was just imagining… how he would react.”

Flash quickly looked around to see what damage his outburst had caused, which was thankfully minimal. Perhaps it was a good thing no one he knew was around after all. Well, it would appear that George knew him, at least to a degree. He wondered whether George had been intentionally trying to lighten the mood, or if Flash himself had been the dark cloud over the conversation from the start. Regardless, it had certainly been one way to spend his time waiting.

”If you really had questions for him, you could send them to his office. Though as funny as it is, I might avoid death threats if you don’t want your own family investigated.” Flash started putting his things away into his bag, one by one. ”I would still prefer you keep it to yourself, if you don’t mind.”

Flash’s gaze now being one of a more waggish nature, he looked off at nothing while he packed. He still had a party to attend, so the improved mood was appreciated. He did feel a tinge of guilt for how aggressively he had pushed George away from the start. It seemed in the end he always had trouble hating a Hufflepuff.

”It’s just that… if everyone knew about Valerius, about my whole family, my own achievements would pale in comparison.” Flash uncharacteristically started to explain himself without being asked. He wasn’t sure if the explanation was awaited, but he felt there was a gap in the narrative that needed to be filled. ”It’s really nothing deeper than that… having a new name, having no reputation at all… was really something I’ve enjoyed this year. At my last school, my family was the only thing about me that anyone cared about.”

Flash shook his head, snapping him out of his daze.

”I’m sorry, you weren’t asking about me…”

@George Henry

George brushed his thumb along the cover of his notebook, tracing along the spine. He was pressing his quill down on the cover now, no longer tapping. Ink bled across the leather, filling the dent he was putting into the cover. He would never admit to having any shame about his heritage - he was just as good a wizard as anyone else, despite his heritage. No, wait - not in spite of it. It wasn't relevant. It didn't matter. But it did cast a creeping shadow of doubt over him, a gnawing worry that any failure would simply be what was expected of him as an muggle. When had he become so concerned with his image?

"Yes," replied George timidly. Flash's flat voice and unimpressed expression were all of George's doubts personified. He felt like some kind of rat, sniffing around for clues on Flash's more impressive wizard family. "Word for that's a muggle-born."

The Hufflepuff boy caught himself slouching and straightened his posture up, his chest swelling with manufactured pride. He might not have come from magic, but he taught himself all about it. His narrowed eyes examined the Slytherin boy. He didn't think he could outgun him when it came to knowledge of magic culture, but he was ready to give it his best shot. Anything to avoid looking like one of those muggle-borns.

While no one on earth had ever dared to call George a gifted child except as a more polite way of implying deficiency, he shared Flash's taste for dark humor. Or at least inappropriate humor. He hadn't thought his joke was that funny until Flash started to laugh, prompting the Hufflepuff to realize the humor of it. He let out his own quiet giggles, adding to the issue of the unstoppable laughter as more stern looks were cast their way.

George was no longer worried about any questioning - when blood status slipped from his mind, they were just two kids laughing about something dumb in a place where they shouldn't have been laughing at all. He was in his natural element - goofing off and pushing the limits of the librarian's patience. When Flash excused his laughter, George covered his own mouth, wiping away his smile and returning to his most professional behaviour. As professional as one can be while barely restraining laughter.

"I'd rather not be under investigation until graduation. It would really impact my career," George said, glancing at Flash to check if he had caught that mocking bit of mimicry. Either way, he'd give the Slytherin boy an impish smile. He didn't comment regarding keeping it to himself - he figured that was a given. He didn't want any angry Slytherin demonologists chasing after him, anyway. There was already the chance that he would make a few more enemies at the party this evening.

Following Flash's example, George started stowing away all his writing supplies. The story was a bust, but it wasn't an entirely unproductive conversation. In fact, Flashmetrius Holmwood had turned out to be quite the charming character. There was the issue of his manners, but all rich kids were like that, so he had never expected much different. They always assumed that they were so important to everybody, rather than just themselves.

It was perhaps not the reaction Flash was looking for when he explained himself, but George shrugged. The reasoning was understandable. Nobody liked to be compared to their siblings all the time. He felt a bit of guilt for shining a spotlight on Flash, but was glad he did - knowing someones secrets was a good way to make a friend. (He still had not heard about the term "blackmail.")

The second part was far more interesting to George. Flash was exactly right - in a new school, with no reputation, you could build whatever image you wanted. Nobody knew who you really were. And if you never told them, nobody could know what your family was.

George had an idea.

"It's okay. It was nice meeting you," George said, giving Flash a polite little smile as he rose from his seat. "Thanks for talking with me. Don't worry. I won't tell anybody about it, Flash. Maybe I'll see you around again! If I get some time, we can exchange death threats. I just got a cool new owl.

The Hufflepuff boy waves, scooping his supplies up into his bag and pushing in the chair where he had sat. He paused a moment, letting Flash get in any last words if he had any, before turning on his heel and marching out the library. Mission accomplished!

Leaving, unless stopped.

@Flash Holmwood

After Flash had explained himself, George gave a shrug, not seeming either empathetic enough to care nor callous enough to deride him. It was a fair position to hold, one Flash felt comfortable with. The interaction could have certainly gone a lot worse, and besides leaking some personal information about his family, he at least felt he had convinced George not to write the story. He had even taken the physical cue to start getting ready to leave himself. Flash didn’t actually intend to leave yet, but he was done with the conversation. Moving as if to leave was a good way to get someone to leave. He had nothing more to say to the nosey kid, who seemed interested in praising Valerius. Flash would have been much more interested to talk more about muggle-borns, but George’s voice was starting to grate on his ears.

The point the entire time had only been to relieve him of his curiosity anyway. Both of them having a neutral opinion of each other was perhaps the best way the interaction could have ended, so Flash was happy with the outcome. Well, of course, if it had been Valerius, he probably would have found a way to get George begging him to adopt him. Flash wasn’t quite at that level yet, so he took his victories where he could. There had been a lot of lessons he had been learning the hard way as of late.

There was one thing that bothered him, however. That all-too-present glint in his eye, the satisfied grin that seemed a staple of his features, like any moment he would turn his back and laugh to himself like an evil mastermind in a cartoon show. George sputtered off a few pleasant good-byes, as well as an offhanded reference to the joke that had tickled Flash so. He got up to leave, but there was one more thing that was worth putting on the record.

”If I may ask one last selfish request, please also don’t write anything about me.” Flash smiled in a way that was practiced and perfect. ”I value my privacy.”

Flash didn’t want to make a threat, but he hoped it was sweetly implied. Threatening someone had led to perhaps the worst blowback he had ever received, and he dared not try it again without more cards in his hand. Instead he just stated the fact as if anyone wanted to know it. He didn’t have any leverage to stop him from printing what he pleased. But if he was pushed into a corner, he would find the leverage. However much leverage he needed.

”It was nice meeting you too.”

Thread closed

@George Henry