14 Jan 2023, 02:50
Non Tiembo Mala
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NON TIEMBO MALA. Ah yes, the first thought that had crossed the young Ravenclaw's mind before she had entered Defense Against the Dark Arts was that she feared no evil. It was quite amusing if she thought about it, considering DADA had to be her least favorite class in terms of participation. It was only her second day at the school for Witchcraft and Wizardry and she already felt terrified as she reached for the door handle. Brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear, she took a shaky breath and entered the classroom.
Earlier that morning, she had made a silent vow over her breakfast that she would try to the best of her ability to learn. Learning and studying had always come easy to her, but now it wasn't a matter of when, it was a matter of where. At the manor, 'school' was easy as she was almost spoon-fed everything by her parents, with hundreds of hours of practice of course. At Hogwarts, she wouldn't have someone to turn to whenever the questions got harder and more complicated, when the lessons got longer and more boring, and worst of all, she didn't have Marmalade. Yes, it was quite immature of her (at least in her mother's eyes) to be so attached to a tabby cat named after a type of fruit preserve, but having her cat by her side comforted Irene in a way no one else could.
Defense Against the Dark Arts made her want to not learn. She didn't find it difficult or frustrating when she studied it at home; in fact, it was quite the opposite. It came too easily to her. What if she made a fool out of herself at school? Perhaps she had studied the wrong things at home. How was she sure she hadn't been learning the wrong lessons? Her stomach had dropped to the floor when a sudden thought occurred to her:
What about Boggarts?
It seemed ridiculous to be so worried about something so far into the future, but Irene had felt quite queasy all morning because of it. She wouldn't have to worry about the shape-shifting beings until her Fifth-Year, but the idea was still equally horrifying. It wasn't the foreshadowing dread that she felt in the back of her mind about what her Boggart would be. She already had an idea of what it would be. Thinking about it made her head spin.
This was precisely why she was nearly shaking as she entered the DADA classroom early that warm September morning, allowing her legs to direct her to a random seat in the front row and taking a seat, her turquoise eyes clouded with fear and dread. She was still holding onto the strap of her satchel tightly upon entering the room, a dark indent left behind where her thin, nimble fingers had pressed into the fine leather. She drew her legs close together, knees locking, and made no eye contact with the few people that were in the room. She was early, Irene realized for the first time.
It took her nearly a whole minute to calm herself down from this unexpected panic attack, her only method of coping is taking slow deep breaths and thumbing her necklace between her fingers. This was ridiculous. Outrageous. Why, of all places, did she need to have an attack during DADA? They are watching me, Irene realized with a jolt. Then, brushing a few stray locks of hair behind her ears, she sat up, sliding her ring onto her delicate finger, taking a deep breath before regaining her composure as if nothing had happened.
Don't let them see your fragile frame, Hatchet. You worked so hard on your perfect portrait, and now you're going to ruin it?
A sudden movement in her peripheral vision enticed the golden-haired girl to turn to her left, watching with judging eyes as a male student (a first-year Gryffindor by the looks of it) tumbled into the seat next to her, laughing loudly as he spoke with a girl of his own house. Slightly irritated by the commotion, Irene turned to face forward in her seat as the bell rang, more students flooding the room. Waiting patiently for the professor to begin the lesson, Irene withdrew her textbook from her satchel, placing it on her desk along with her quill and crystal inkwell. Now, she waited, a solemn expression forming on her delicate features.
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Note: Non-Tiembo Mala means I fear no evil in Latin.
Last edited by Irene Hatchet on 14 Jan 2023, 18:06, edited 1 time in total.
𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
14 Jan 2023, 17:53
Non Tiembo Mala
In quite the opposite manner to Irene, Lucas could hardly contain his excitement when it came to starting Defence Against the Dark Arts. Other than transfiguration, it was the only subject he had any kind of genuine interest for, so he made his way down towards the class with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
Having been home school exclusively, and having had quite easy going tutors, Lucas was having some issue with adjusting to the actual environment of a school. Where other students might find their way to class quite easily, Lucas often got distracted and wandered off to have a look at some painting on his way, or if he spotted someone he even thought he recognised, he'd want to stop and have a quick conversation. That tendency for getting distracted was what lead him to getting caught up with the other Gryffindor girl, and the pair chatted idly for a while, making slow progress towards the class.
After chatting for a few minutes, Lucas realised that they were getting dangerously close to being late, causing the pair to speed up, practically running to the class at one point. As Lucas burst into the class rather dramatically, he glanced around, letting out a sigh and beginning to grin once he realised that they were on time. As he flopped down into an empty seat, he could practically feel her gaze drilling into the side of his head. It didn't bother him, nor did his grin falter, as he reached down into his bag.
Typical. He thought to himself, as his hand scavenged around in his bag, unable to find any kind of parchment or the ink well. He glanced around somewhat guilty, his hand idly combing through his already somewhat messed up hair, before his gaze eventually fell onto the girl sat besides him.
"Hi, I'm Lucas. You mind if I use your inkwell for a bit? I forgot mine." He leant over, trying his hardest to whisper to her, unfortunately failing to lower his volume much lower than his normal speech.
@Irene Hatchet
Having been home school exclusively, and having had quite easy going tutors, Lucas was having some issue with adjusting to the actual environment of a school. Where other students might find their way to class quite easily, Lucas often got distracted and wandered off to have a look at some painting on his way, or if he spotted someone he even thought he recognised, he'd want to stop and have a quick conversation. That tendency for getting distracted was what lead him to getting caught up with the other Gryffindor girl, and the pair chatted idly for a while, making slow progress towards the class.
After chatting for a few minutes, Lucas realised that they were getting dangerously close to being late, causing the pair to speed up, practically running to the class at one point. As Lucas burst into the class rather dramatically, he glanced around, letting out a sigh and beginning to grin once he realised that they were on time. As he flopped down into an empty seat, he could practically feel her gaze drilling into the side of his head. It didn't bother him, nor did his grin falter, as he reached down into his bag.
Typical. He thought to himself, as his hand scavenged around in his bag, unable to find any kind of parchment or the ink well. He glanced around somewhat guilty, his hand idly combing through his already somewhat messed up hair, before his gaze eventually fell onto the girl sat besides him.
"Hi, I'm Lucas. You mind if I use your inkwell for a bit? I forgot mine." He leant over, trying his hardest to whisper to her, unfortunately failing to lower his volume much lower than his normal speech.
@Irene Hatchet
15 Jan 2023, 02:55
Non Tiembo Mala
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TURNING TOWARDS THE BOY, Irene's newfound distaste for the stranger grew even more as they began speaking directly towards her, his pathetic excuse of a 'whisper' louder than everything else in the room. Instinctively, Irene drew her knees closer to herself once more, a look of doubt crossing her face as the boy ran his fingers through his hair.
"Hi, I'm Lucas. Do you mind if I use your inkwell for a bit? I forgot mine." Irene nearly let out a noise of indignation at his words, but did not show her annoyance, instead allowing her face to morph into what she hoped was a somewhat friendly smile. She pushed her inkwell closer to the edge of her desk a bit more roughly than she would have liked then stiffly turned to face forward in her desk once more.
"Please, go ahead." She motioned towards her crystal inkwell, praying to the gods that this, boy, didn't knock it over or break it. Perhaps she should sit somewhere else from now on. Sneaking a glance at the boy once more who was occupying himself with trying to find parchment, she took in his appearance for the first time. He had messy hair that was an annoyingly perfect shade of blonde and blue eyes, yet upon looking closer Irene noticed a pale shade of green staring back at her. Quite deceiving, she thought.
Realizing the boy had introduced himself as Lucas and that she should do the same, Irene turned her head to the left slightly and whispered back.
"I'm Irene. Irene Hatchet."
At that exact moment, the professor stood from behind their desk, announcing the beginning of class and turning towards the chalkboard behind them. Irene could feel the small feeling of dread flood her senses once more as she gulped, straightening her back as she picked up her quill. It was clear to anyone watching that she was reluctant to start learning. Still, she tried to focus as the professor began writing on the board, picking up her quill and fervently copying down everything.
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Note: None for now.
𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
15 Jan 2023, 23:09
Non Tiembo Mala
"Thanks." He returned the smile with a grin of his own, vaguely aware that her expression was almost certainly forced given her initial reaction to him. He didn't even really think he had done anything to make her have such an unfavourable opinion on him, not that it really mattered, it was just something to mull over while he waited for the lesson to start.
Eventually after further scavenging through his back, his hand finally brushed against something that felt vaguely like parchment. When he pulled it out of his bag, sure enough, it was parchment, causing Lucas to let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure how well quills worked on skin, but writing his notes on his arm wouldn't of given the best first impression to either the professor or any of his classmates.
In great contrast to his rather dramatic and energetic movements up to this point, as he reached over to dip his quill into her inkwell, he did so very carefully, ensuring he didn't spill any or knock it off the desk. "Nice to meet you, Irene." He nodded, before writing his name at the top of his parchment in a very messy scrawl.
The initial energy and enthusiasm that Lucas had carried into the class drained impressively quickly, as he slumped down into his chair, letting out a loud sigh. An hour long lesson was long normally, but when he was home schooled, Lucas had rarely done longer than 20 minutes in a single sitting. However, on this occasion, it took less than 10 minutes for his notes to slow down, and for him to begin looking around the classroom absentmindedly. He could catch up later, after all, but maybe there would be something interesting hidden away in this room, it was used to teach DADA after all.
@Irene Hatchet
Eventually after further scavenging through his back, his hand finally brushed against something that felt vaguely like parchment. When he pulled it out of his bag, sure enough, it was parchment, causing Lucas to let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure how well quills worked on skin, but writing his notes on his arm wouldn't of given the best first impression to either the professor or any of his classmates.
In great contrast to his rather dramatic and energetic movements up to this point, as he reached over to dip his quill into her inkwell, he did so very carefully, ensuring he didn't spill any or knock it off the desk. "Nice to meet you, Irene." He nodded, before writing his name at the top of his parchment in a very messy scrawl.
The initial energy and enthusiasm that Lucas had carried into the class drained impressively quickly, as he slumped down into his chair, letting out a loud sigh. An hour long lesson was long normally, but when he was home schooled, Lucas had rarely done longer than 20 minutes in a single sitting. However, on this occasion, it took less than 10 minutes for his notes to slow down, and for him to begin looking around the classroom absentmindedly. He could catch up later, after all, but maybe there would be something interesting hidden away in this room, it was used to teach DADA after all.
@Irene Hatchet