perfect day? PV Ming Closed

The exams were approaching with the slow certainty of all deadlines, and dread was starting to creep up on Ming. Sure, he had decided that he would not worry about things as much as he used to, but making that decision and following through with it were totally different things.

By some twist of irony, the studious and quiet Slytherin found himself outdoors, on a Saturday of all things. The Ming of old would have scoffed at the sheer irresponsibility of it all, but this Ming was not the tight, overly serious little boy jumping at stupid, imagined dangers. This Ming had promised himself that he would be better, make friends, and try to get the most of this odd, insane society of mis-

You need to stop that, Ming!

Ming had promised himself that he would be better. And what better way to try and make some friends and get along with the obnoxiously loud children other students than to come out and try to enjoy a warm-ish 15 degrees.

Dressed in black– he had forgone his formal white shirt, oxford shoes and his traditional glasses – Ming walked slowly, observing his fellow students like one might appraise dishes at a buffet. Just as it would hardly make sense to jump in blindly and gorge on the chocolate if you did not like sweetness, the first-year did not fancy putting himself in social situations that he did not feel he could handle.

Small steps to start. Progress is progress.

With that thought in mind, the Chinese-British first year looked at the options available to him, and made his decision. In the slow assured gait of someone who knew what they were doing (he did not, but the appearance of confidence was important), he approached a solitary figure sitting in the grass. Ming did not say much at first, silently observing the upper-year play with his cat.

Well, perhaps play was not the correct word. The upper-year was trying to train his feline pet to play fetch, by bribing it with food for every successful venture. It was, for the lack of a better term, cute.

Ming had not thought that wizards spent time doing such mundane things as training their pets. A part of him just assumed that fully trained transfigurations of pets existed. Another of his assumptions about the world was proven wrong.

After what would have been a good minute or so of silent observation, the Slytherin approached the upper-year. It was then that he recognized the other boy with a jolt. This was Alan Vanes, the duelling captain for Gryffindor. Ming had spent some time profiling this boy’s spell choices and duelling technique, but seeing the Gryffindor here like this was unexpected.

This was another person, with feelings and emotions and a life of their own. Not just a threat and obstacle to overcome. It was a realization that Ming should have come to much, much sooner; had he not been so obsessed with the idea that Hogwarts was a deathtrap and everyone else was stupid.

A blink, a deep breath. Well, he had promised himself he’d make friends.

“I must say,” he said as he approached closer to the older boy, so as to announce his presence. “That’s a rather eye-catching pet you have there, Mister Vanes.”

The fifth year had been sitting on the ground switching between training his cat and being lost in thought. There had been a lot of confusing things on his mind lately and also a lot of stressful things, such as school. However he did not which to ponder about those things while he was sitting there in the intention to have a relaxing time. A sudden voice would startle him and he looked for the source of it. His eyes would catch sight of a boy he had seen around a few times, if he remembered correctly. Though he would not be able to place the name, which brought Alan into a rather uncomfortable position as the other boy clearly knew who he was. It was common to be honest, but Alan still felt bad when people knew who he was but he had no idea who they were.

"Hey, I know we have met but what is your name again?" He greeted back. He considered if he should get up, but he knew that Tiger was just waiting for him to get distracted from all the treats. "I'd get up, but Tiger would be all over the treats if I did, so I hope you don't mind," he offered with a chuckle, holding out his hand to the other kid, while remaining seated. But he smiled at the compliment Tiger had received. Sometimes Alan was glad that the feline did not quite understood the human language, otherwise he was sure that Tiger would have developed an awful ego by now. He always received so many compliments, most of them from Alan himself!

A confused blink. Had they met? Ming would say no, he was hardly more than a face in the crowd, busily scrawling down notes as the Gryffindor captain duelled on stage. Perhaps Mister Vanes was talking about that brief moment when Ming had shown himself back when the three professors were having a meet and greet? Or perhaps the Gryffindors kept close tabs on the waiting list of other house dueling teams? That was a worrying thought. But also not one for today.

“Yes. Cats would do that, wouldn’t they?” Came his stiff reply, the first-year unsure of what the upperclassman would take offence at. It would not do to offend the boy he was trying to befriend at the very first, after all.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Vanes. Or…to meet you properly.” The Chinese boy knelt a little to meet the proffered hand in a handshake. “…such as this is. Hui Ming, Slytherin first year. Please, call me Ming.”

The words were a confused mix of formality, rote, and awkwardness. Ming clearly was not the most prolific conversationalist.

Still, the younger boy smiled back somewhat at the appearance of good cheer.

Perhaps this won’t end poorly?

The fifth year smiled back, but wished he could have winced at the use of his surname, but he didn't. He should have grown accustomed to it by now, but it always sounded like someone wasn't talking to him specifically but to or about his family or official stuff. "Please call me Alan, Ming," he returned the offer and gave the younger boy a soft smile. "Do you have an animal companion of your own?" Alan asked curiously, as he watched Tiger approach the Slytherin curiously. "Also Tiger isn't just an ordinary cat, he is quite smart to the point where I believe there must be some Kneazle blood in his genetics," he said as a matter of fact, with a proud nod as if to underline his statement. Truth to be told, Alan actually had no idea whether Tiger was actually a part Kneazle, but he had an above average intelligence nonetheless, so who cared if he spun a even more fantastic theory. There was no way to prove it either way.

"You are in the duelling room quite often, do you intend on joining your house's team?" he wondered as he propped up his chin on his arm, which was propped up on his knee as he was still sitting in the grass. Tiger, whether or not he was getting the much needed attention from Ming, had resorted to stealing a piece of chicken and Alan didn't bother to reprimand the feline.