closed New Year, New Start PV Stephen Schwartz

Stephen was just about to head out onto the grounds for a run. It was the start of a new year, and he was feeling a little discombobulated. The first month of summer break he had been at Hogwarts for summer camp, and boy did THAT experience leave him feeling disappointed and confused and maybe a little hopeful.

Camp had been an almost entirely complete let down, but there had been a beacon of light. EmmaLee. He liked being with her. She was smart. She was definitely easy on his eyes, and after that technicolor assault to said eyes from the Unicorn cabin, he had zero complaints on that score. Then he self corrected his thought with a mumble, Complaints with her - no. Complaints with my cabin - well, there aren't enough infinite numbers in the universe to be counted on that score, and he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples at the memory.

As he focused more on his current surroundings, he saw Miles Thatcher up ahead, looking at flyers. The guy was a hard nut to crack. Stephen had tried, sort of, to befriend him, but Miles always demurred. He did so not impolitely, but never in a particularly friendly manner either. They had had reason on a number of occasions to brush up against each other, particularly last year. They were tent mates with EmmaLee and Louca and Jaime during the London summer camp in the Quidditch stadium. And then there was the infamous Hexwizard Wizard Chess Tournament a year ago at Hogwarts. Ilvermorny could have done a whole lot better, but it just was what it was.

Stephen felt Miles had withdrawn into himself even more after those events, and whether it was from embarrassment as the school's champion or because he was regrouping to plan how to move forward more successfully as a team, Stephen was not sure. Hell, it could have been for reasons having nothing to do with anything that Stephen was aware of honestly. But the guy always seemed to be a little sad and a little lonely. He was definitely a guy who liked to be alone, that was clear. But lonely was a different ball game altogether.

Stephen decided to give it one more go with Miles and see if he could crack his hard, candy coating.

"Yo, Miles. Long time no see. How're you doing?" and then looking up at the papered billboard before them, Stephen's eye landed on one right in the middle with Miles' name on it. He stepped forward and craned his neck a bit to get a better angle on reading it. A grin began to pull up at the corner of his mouth. "A conservation club, eh? Very cool. You never struck me as a blue marble warrior, but then, I don't really know much about you. Sounds like a great idea though. Maybe I'll show up for your first meeting and see how it goes. Let me know if you need any help," and he turned his attention back to Miles.

Miles, for his part, was simply looking back at Stephen with that Miles look of his. Stephen knew the guy could smile. He had seen it. But the suggestion that he might show up at the meeting did not seem to be occasion for a smile. Stephen had heard Miles was a Pureblood and then began to wonder if THAT was the reason for the wall? He returned the even gaze briefly and thought it possible, but not likely. Miles had had some fun with the Conspira-sea tent mates and most of them had definitely NOT been Purebloods. Man this guy was hard to read.

Stephen started to back away while saying, "Seriously, let me know if you do decide you would like some help. Or, maybe, you know, if you ever want to practice some broom drills or study some more wizard chess strategies," and he laughed and rolled his eyes good naturedly, "I could be your fellow. Those were good times, I thought, even if the outcome wasn't what any of us had hoped it would be."

"Someone's gotta save her."

Four little words, but they packed a punch. Stephen turned to look at Ilvermorny's Champion and studied him studying Stephen with an equal measure of uncertainty and possibly some curiosity. "Yeah, they do. And the sooner the better." He now grinned at Miles. "Thing is, I always figured to be one of those "someones", but maybe not in the traditional sense. I believe that space exploration opens up a wealth of opportunity and knowledge that benefits mankind and the planet. It's been my passion since I was 4 years old. Still is," and he looked away, finishing the last sentence a bit wistfully.

"I think you're the first maj I've met that sees the need for intervention on a planetary scale. Or, to be more precise and fair, maybe you are just the first who has spoken to me about it. You give me hope, Miles Thatcher. You definitely give me hope."

To his utter amazement, Miles opened up even more. Stephen listened as he spoke about his concern over the Hexwizard and the school's loss, only to hear Miles talk about it, you would think the boy felt like he, and he alone, lost it. It was not stated directly, but it indirectly oozed from the boy's pores. Stephen was so used to team sports that he never truly felt the weight of losses as any one person's responsibility. It is true that Ilvermorny had gotten their keesters handed to them on a platter, but that was not all on Miles. Stephen knew it for a fact as he himself had been standing on that board, too.

"Guess I never really told you because I assumed as a Quidditch player you'd know it already, but that loss wasn't all on you, man. I get that as Champion there was a greater amount of pressure on you, but honestly, the whole thing sort of fizzled out anyway. Think about it. Why would the international community remember our loss when they couldn't even care enough to support the next two phases of it?" Stephen really watched him closely now, curious to know just how invested Miles' ego was in that title and that loss.

"As long as you did your best, that's all anyone can ask of you, and all you should be asking of yourself. No matter how on point you might be, there are just some days when it isn't in the cards and the other guys are better. It happens. It happened. Nothing to be ashamed of. We just need to see it as an opportunity to improve for next time, if there ever is a next time. I was proud to be on that board with you and our team that day, for whatever that may be worth."

Stephen walked over to a bench and put his right foot up on it at an angle. One of his shoelaces on his sneaker had begun to come loose, and he leaned over it to tie it more tightly this time. As he was doing so, he heard Miles ask him something about what he wanted for himself in this school year.

Hmmmmmmm.

Good question. Did he have a good answer? Debatable.

"Honestly, the first thing that came to mind was 'clarity' since you asked," and EmmaLee flashed across his mind like a wildfire. He was still looking down at his shoe, only this time it was a stall. He brushed over the tongue area to get some non-existent debris off and continued his answer. "That might be asking an awful lot right now, but I do look forward to keeping fit and perfecting some new broom racing maneuvers. If you're interested, you should consider meeting up some time and we could do some broom practices together. I know we compete in different broom sports, but I bet we might benefit from the cross-training. More tools in each of our arsenals, so to speak."

He stood erect once again and met Miles' even gaze. "If that doesn't interest you, no sweat, but I'll definitely be at your first conservation club meeting. You can chalk me up as a blue marble warrior, too," and he grinned at the older boy, hoping he had cracked more than just a little of his hard candy coating.

And cracked his hard candy coating he had. Miles, to Stephen's great astonishment, loosened up enough to reveal a couple of things about himself. Primarily what he was picking up was the guy's complete and utter lack of enthusiasm for the sport of Broom Racing. Stephen couldn't fault him there because he felt the same lack of enthusiasm for Quidditch, but what pricked Stephen just the slightest was the question Miles asked. Once again he found himself silent for a few moments, looking at the guy, trying to figure him out.

He knew Miles was far from stupid or uninformed. He also knew he was a year older than Stephen, or thereabouts, and had grown up in the world of magic, so how the fellow could ask - with a straight face - whether there were maneuvers in broom racing was utterly baffling. Was Miles testing him in some way for some weird reason, and if he was, why was he? There was always an undertone and a reluctance, it seemed, whenever Miles spoke to him. It often felt like he was being judged, or worse even, had been already. But in staring back at Miles for a moment, forgetting the question itself, Stephen focused on the person standing before him.

Miles' body language, if not his tone, hinted at just the slightest bit of curiosity. Maybe he wasn't being a snob. Maybe he really was just ignorant about Broom Racing. Stephen knew almost everything there was to know about basketball, but would not be able to tell you much about football. He guessed it might be possible that the same could be said of Miles and his chosen sport, so Stephen shook his wariness off and chuckled instead.

"Uhmm, yeah, Miles. There are definitely maneuvers in the sport of Broom Racing. Have you ever been to a race? They are incredibly exhilarating. Honestly, I know the magical world thinks Quidditch is the be all and end all of broom sports, and I'm not here to convert you," and he shook his head a couple of times to punctuate his point, "I swear I'm not, but it frankly surprises me that more people don't recognize the freedom and ever-changing obstacle courses that present new challenges in each and every race."

He could feel his excitement rising as he was thinking about it and there was no shutting him up now. "It is never the same. Ever. Quidditch, from my perspective, on the other hand, is a poster child for nothing but "mundane sameness". True, you fly against different teams consisting of different people, but the maneuvers are fixed and always the same from game to game. The flying field is always the same. To me that is a little boring. Because the obstacles always change from course to course in broom racing, the spells and maneuvers and strategies to be used have to change as well. That is pure freedom of flight, mind, and body, man. I'm telling you truth here. It's freaking awesome!"

He could feel his blood pumping and he could also feel the huge grin that had spread across his face. There were worse things than being enthusiastic about things that made one happy. And broom racing made Stephen happy. Still, he had said he was not going to try and sway Miles' mind so he dialed the wattage down on the smile, but only to about half, and expressed his half-hearted regret. "Apologies. That really wasn't me selling you on broom racing. That was only me excited by it is all."

Thinking he had probably cemented Miles' disapproval of him, he was blown away when the boy started talking about tomorrow's forecast. Not having been short changed in the brains department, Stephen figured it could mean only one of two things, and even that got immediately narrowed down to one. One thing. Miles was not the type to have heard that spiel and then gone on to small talk about weather unless he was prepared to take Stephen up on his offer and meet up to practice.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Rainy weather for practice suits me just fine. As one west coast boy to another, I'm from the San Francisco Bay Area myself, I look forward to it. I'm pretty much free at any time tomorrow except from 2 pm to 4pm. Otherwise, I think we're good. When and where do you want to meet? And don't think I don't plan to followup with you about what you want for your own self in this coming new year. Fair is fair, right?" and he grinned again.

Full wattage this time.