Last Straw PV Sylvain Wyllt

Hexcode= #507091

As he had come to realize it, another semester wrapping up meant another pile of books in the J section of the Library in preparation for finals. Having traded the comically large pile of texts in at the front desk, Sylvain traipsed back to see another pile waiting for him as he had requested. The pile was met with an audible groan. One that was meant to express both his annoyance and weariness. Although reading was by far his preferred way to learn, so much of it so often rendered most of it meaningless. What he had learned for this semester would be likely be disposed of shortly before next semester's reading. Unless of course it pertained to potions or managed to sate his curiosity. Those kinds of books always found retention.

It was a simple process, studying. Really. He had often started with gathering the needed reading materials, stopping to take notes as he went along. Every once in a while, taking a break to reorganize his thoughts while hypothesizing on any possible alternative to the outcomes of suggested practices. This process broke up the monotony. Books written by wizards and witches had a tendency to be thick on opinion and narrow on practical advice. Insight, at least whenever it was discovered, was the real treasure belonging in between the thick vellum pages of musty tomes provided to Hogwarts students. For a wizard of only thirteen, insight was perhaps Sylvain's greatest power. Though this trait was more likely a gift awarded by his ability to focus on something until all of its fascinating details were memorized, however temporary that memorization might be.

There were several times where the overwhelming stream of varied experiences had tugged at his heart and threatened to ruin his day since coming to the castle. Often enough he had cried, blubbered, or even thrown fits when simply taking a break or letting go of the feelings would have done him greater justice. For this reason alone he had come to learn friendship. Something he had only the vaguest notions of upon arriving. To him, friendship meant sticking through these moments of hardship even when everything else seemed to say RUN. That he had made so many friends in such short time was either a testament to the school's difficult learning curve, or symbolic of the kind of people that he found surrounded him. Judging by the amount of success he had seen so far, the more likely fact was that he was an extraordinary person surrounded by other extraordinary people. Something a librarian had told him once. Something he chose to believe in whenever he felt down.

Once he had found himself surrounded by extraordinary people, Sylvain quickly realized that there were two kinds of thinking. It would be easy to fall into despair with the first kind of thinking, as they were feelings more than thoughts really. Comparing himself to those exemplary students whose behavior and habits had already been cultivated from the start was a trap. Deadly as any pitfall. Students whose parents had spent their whole lives expecting something from them had also spent their time together preparing each other for it. This was their privilege. It was the second kind of thinking that he had realized was beneficial to himself and those around him. That each wizard or witch, regardless of personal creed, habitual preparation or wealth of knowledge had something to teach or something to offer was what he had begun to build his life on. His future was founded on mutual understanding. This was how learning came so easily to him. His understanding was not from practice or innate skill, but from vulnerability and open mindedness. A will to be wrong and learn from it.

Looking up from his book, Sylvain saw the face of a blond haired boy plunge itself into the tome prostrated before him. By now, Syl was certainly no stranger to anxiety. It seemed that young boys were particularly prone to melt downs, and that it was twice as likely that being muggleborn had caused it. It made him curious to think that he himself had a similar perspective to the boy in front of him once. That being fostered among muggles had given him nearly the same level of preparation for the wizarding world that only the unluckiest of students had had. This perspective put him in a unique position as a child with two wizardborn parents. Even if they were missing. It was odd to think that he was going to move in with his Uncle Frazier soon. That the summer months ahead were to be spent learning of the new things about the side of reality he had only dreamt of as a wee lad. Those without this privilege would return to the muggle world. Something that now seemed more like torture to the boy whose comfort had been found within the existence of magic.

Folding his book and resting his quill in an inkwell, Sylvain remained as calm and graceful as he could. Being strong for others was so much easier than being strong for himself. At least, sometimes it was. Mostly it depended on if they liked chocolate or not, but sometimes it felt especially important to try if they hadn't made any friends yet. With a look of concern, his eyebrows raised, Sylvain skipped right to the point. "Do you need a tutor, or a chocolate frog?" He would sneak the frog out of his bag as a display of good will. The beastie was still in its wrapper. It might've been against school rules to bring food into the library, but who was watching the J section for "troublemakers?" As long as the boy didn't open it right away, the two would likely be fine.

@Nikolai Dragos

Nikolai reacted with a start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice beside him. His head snapped back up from where it’d been in the book—was he in trouble for crying? Could First Years’ tears dissolve the old tome’s pages, or something? He wouldn’t be surprised…—and looked up at the boy that had (seemingly) suddenly appeared. A kind-looking boy, with a soft, concerned expression; older than him, but not by much; looking like he fit into his own skin more than Nikolai probably ever had.

Nerves hit him hard, as well as the embarrassment of being caught with tears in his eyes. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he’d found time to cry in his first year at Hogwarts (one particular incident in the boy’s lavatory came to mind, but he shook that unpleasant memory away with a sharp movement of his head). Nikolai sniffled self-consciously and balked from the offer at first.

Who in their right mind would approach someone (a complete stranger, at that) at their most vulnerable and offer help without provocation, without promise of compensation? Did this older boy expect payment? A favor?

Nikolai wasn’t smart by any particular stretch of the imagination, but if he was good at one thing, it was reading people. An intuition, maybe. And with that insight, there was nothing sinister or conniving radiating off of this boy. As strange as it seemed to him, a small child who’d never made a real friend in his entire life, this boy seemed to be honestly offering assistance for nothing in return.

He sniffled and scooted his open book away. His mouth twitched pitifully at the edges in an attempt at a smile, which didn’t quite land.

“Um,” he answered, and his voice wavered. He cleared his throat quietly and sheepishly shrugged. “Maybe a little of both?”

Hexcode= #507091

A bit of both it was.

Putting the frog on the table in front of the other boy, Sylvain lead with a proper introduction, but playfully professional as if imitating how one of the professors might introduce themselves. "My name is Sylvain Adair Wyllt, Co-captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team, but you may simply call me Syl. I was a prefect for a few months, but then gave up on it after realizing I wanted to be a quidditch captain and graduate on time." He would wait a moment for the boy's introduction in kind, and politely move on only after receiving at least acknowledgment for his attempt to make the kid laugh.

"As for tutoring, it depends on the subject. Is it safe to assume you're a first year?" He started slowly. "Do you have your report card on you?" And following up, he asked a sensitive question. "Do you mind if I see your homework?" He would motion towards the stack of papers the kid was reading, or rather sobbing, into. "I'm not so great at Defense Against the Dark Arts myself, but when it comes to Potions and charms, I'd like to think can help." His smile would soften as some of his own awkward nerdiness hopefully helped to dispel the sense of overwhelming mountain of paperwork that lay ahead for them both.

"I think I still have most of my homework somewhere." To those that knew him well, Sylvain was not the kind to throw anything away. The underside of his mattress and inside of his trunk looked like one of the horror shots from Hoarders. Everything had the potential for another purpose to Sylvain, and old homework was no different in that regard. He would rifle through his bag, sifting for another moment or two before coming back empty handed. "Must be in another bag. Still, if you need help I could jog my memory." Or ask a less absent-minded Ravenclaw. That had the potential to work out.

@Nikolai Dragos