Closed Lowe Expectations PV George Henry

George recognized the giant in the class, although he questioned whether the older boy belonged in here. Wasn't he older? He wasn't judging by size, of course. Quinn had taught him that giants worked differently in that regard. That great big badger was only 12 or something when George had met him, but he looked about 40. What set this Gryffindor one apart was his hairy face. That was a sure sign of his age - Quinn had lacked it when they met, although it's possible that George missed it, given that it was likely wispy and ginger compared to the thicket of sideburns that occupied the sides of Hugh's huge head.

Although not getting a dance from Hugh at his first ball was a painful memory, it was at least not the worst thing that happened that day. Not by a long shot. It was probably the only time George would be happy that a fire broke out. It was a good way to cover up if you did something embarrassing. Well - as long as the embarrassing thing you did wasn't fixing the floor.

The young Hufflepuff shook his head, pushing aside those thoughts. One foot in front of the other, bringing him up to the giant, ready to strike up a conversation. He wasn't sure how he could pivot this into getting a dance - maybe if he needed to practice tarantallegra? Oh well - he'd find his path along the way.

"Do you need some help?" chimed George, a cherubic smile on his face as he leaned over to peek at the book that Hugh had in front of him. These texts could be hard to interpret, especially when you were frustrated - which Hugh was, visibly. Part of him stayed on alert in case the big guy swung his arm around in a fit of rage or something. He knew it was just a stereotype that giants were brutish, but it was hard to deny that Hugh seemed to have a bit of a feral appearance, with scruffy old clothes and a wiggly mustache. "I'm told I'm a decent teacher of charms."

A presence drew a shadow near him. As his eyes slid over to see, he was met with a vaguely familiar boy. Had to have seen him before, Hogwarts wasn't that big. Words did not come as a reaction, rather a furrowed brow that quickly arched upward in surprise. Hugh would seem to measure the boy head to toe. Taking stock before he turned his gaze back to his book. "Sure..." He mumbled, not really waiting to put himself out in the open like that. But he wasn't dumb enough to not admit he wasn't getting anywhere with this. He straightened his back more and shoved a little to the side to make room. "You... you said you were good with this?" Hugh nodded towards the object he held in his hand.

He was trying not to breath, not seem nervous. The fact was that he was, and it would be visible despite all his efforts. The part-giant wiggled his nose every few seconds and scratched the hairs that ran along his jawline. "You've helped others before?" He recoiled from his own question. Maybe he was getting a little too desperate in this. But the kid did not understand where he was coming from. Part-giants were said to have a low level of residual magic left tin their blood. By law, they were allowed to attend, but expectations were low for them. Hugh felt scared he was living up to his race's shortcomings. "What's... your name? I'm Hugh."

A large hand reached out for the boy to shake. Courtesy wasn't lost on the brute at least. After all, he did pretend he was a knight for the entirety of his first year. Another embarrassing fact to look back to. Though perhaps he had turned into the damsel in distress this time around. Not that he didn't appreciate the help offered, it just asked a lot from him to be open about it towards the other boy. A boy that was in essence still a stranger.

George giggled reflexively at the reveal of Hugh's name. "Huge," he murmured to himself, the cheap punchline being too hard to resist. He looked up at the larger boy and nodded, finally replying to his first question. "Aye, I've got an O average in Charms," he said, trying not to sound too full of himself as he bragged. "Not in much else, but, y'know, I'm only one man. You can only expect so much from me."

He only had high grades in subjects that were worth learning about. And if a subject was worth learning about, he'd learn, and he'd get a high grade. It was a nice, clean cycle of academic performance. "I'm George Henry! I write for the Headliner," he says, introducing his extra-curricular achievements and slipping his name in as well. The younger boy reached up to scratch along his own chin, feeling nothing but baby smooth skin. He hadn't expected a full beard at 13, but it would have been nice to get something. A little acknowledgement that he wasn't a child now. He was a teenager, a much more troublesome type of creature.

But this one was well-trained, and he reached out to shake Hugh's hand like a proper little gentleman. Compared to the year prior, he looked positively professional. Especially without that raggedy kilt or a burlap sack over his head. Dark clothes, accented with his house colors, perfectly prim and pressed, all fitting just right. He was acutely aware of his fashion choices this year, and even more acutely aware of how much worse Hugh's clothes looked when George was standing next to him. It made George feel quite nice.

"What're you reading about here?" George asked, breaking away briefly to grab his notebook and bring it over to the half-giant, laying it down beside the textbook. "I've probably got notes that'd help."

Hugh's face turned to stone as the other giggled at his name. "You think that's funny?" Though soon his own chuckle would crack his features open. "I guess it is fitting that way..." . Shaking George's hand with a glimpse of glee. "A pleasure." Hugh would try his best to seem positive. Brandishing his usual smirk like he was used to in an attempt to seem happy about this entire situation. He noticed the boy's wandering hand along their own chin. "Ah, yeah... Part-giant... I don't know if that's an issue?" There was an awkwardness to the subject. The Gryffindor was aware that some, though it was apparent by his figure, needed things spelled out for them and only then they would turn their backs at him. Perhaps because after that they could no longer deny they did not know. As if they had become guilty to his crime of being a half-breed.

"I don't get any of it to be honest. Don't worry I can read at least." A soft chuckle escaped his own breath as he joked about his own failure. "It's just... my wand doesn't... and I don't move like... and the words are hard... Like, Finight Insanttatethem." The skin underneath his facial hair slowly began to turn red until both of his large cheeks matched the colour of the jumper that was popping out from under his robe. His eyes rolled down to look at the floor. "Yeah... I don't know anything..." Deep in his chest he felt himself growling in anger again. It often got the better of him. But the fight of trying to come off as a "normal" kid held the upper hand for now. He just had to stay in his seat and see what the other kid, George, would do. Though the second he would have laughed, Hugh was ready to bolt. "Yeah, no... this is stupid." The part-giant's voice growled as he slammed the book shut.

"Well, it's just - it's - it's on the nose, you know?" George sputtered, turning pale as porcelain as the giant bore down on him with that stony gaze. Uh-oh - he figured something at this school would kill him, but he never figured it'd be a student. Well, not a Gryffindor, at least. George felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders as Hugh's smile rose, mirroring the expression. As Hugh offered an explanation for the disparity in size, George's expression changed to one of bafflement. Surely he doesn't think that he's fooling anyone into thinking he isn't a half giant. By second year, one ought to know all the manners of half-breed lineage that they were liable to find among the student body. The whole business of secret-keeping that kept dhampirs and werewolves out of sight was much easier to bypass with half-giants. They were like big billboards broadcasting their lineage.

"I figured as much, where you're massive and everything," he said, with a scoff and another carefree giggle. "I mean, not fat, I mean. Well-..." George wisely cut that thought short, willing the awkwardness away with a wave of his hand. But more kept pouring on as Hugh started to wallow in self-critique, pointing out the flaws with his wand technique (and unknowingly pointing out the glaring flaws in his pronunciation). George very badly wanted to laugh - but he had learned that some people wouldn't find the humor in it, and would in fact find it especially cruel. Normally even this wouldn't deter him, but Hugh was a half-giant, and George did not wish to be reduced to a red smear on the Charms classroom's floor just yet.

"It's not stupid, don't be stupid," George said, letting his indignation at the assault on Charms override his self-preservation. George reached out and tempted fate by pulling the book open again, pressing his finger onto the words - finite incantatem. "You can read it, but - that's the thing, nobody can read it. It's latin. It's a dead language. Only way you'll know how to read it is if you get someone else to say it to you first. Only reason I got ahead last year was because I'd already heard other people doing it."

He tapped the words more insistently as he spoke, watching Hugh carefully - ready to dodge or pull his hand back in case the older boy decided he'd eat him or whatever it was that half-giants were so feared for besides just being bulky. The young boy cleared his throat and straightened his back - trying to turn his wary gaze into something more serious. He was looking Hugh in the eye, at least, and he did his best imitation of a professor's voice. "Do the words now and we can do the wand movement later. Try it slow first - finite incantatem."

Hugh's eyebrow quirked up as he waited for George to complete his train of thought. His smirk grew a little wider as he found the boy stopping himself. "I see..." Winking at the end to let the other know he was fine. The smirk was nowhere to be seen when George called him stupid though. "Don't call me that then." He bit back with his teeth bared. His eyes peering a little while longer at George as he began to explain his stuff. "Then why do they teach it if it is dead? That sounds stupid." For some reason he felt a little dumb for not having known the answer to that question himself.Though he had no recollection of the professors explaining to him what Latin was all about.

"Fi-Ni-Te. In-Can-Ta-Tem." Hugh repeated after George. His head turn to look over his shoulder if any of the others had been watching. The last thing he needed was to put on a show for those buggers that took pleasure in seeing him fail at stuff. There were more than a few that suffered from a superiority complex. Mostly purebloods of course. Snobs like them got it from their parents. But there were others that simply felt like being bastards in their own right. Luckily he found none of them directly staring at him and George. "How bad was that? Be honest." There was no use of lying, he needed folks to be to the point with him.

"So you're a boss at this?" He asked abruptly, his mind already trying to make room for an escape from his poor attempt at pronunciation. "I've only been decent at Quidditch. Though even there I lacked some nimbleness sometimes... Scored once though, as the keeper." Sport was fun in his first year, though he had quickly started to outgrow his own broom. If he ever had a desire to play again, which he had not, considering the abundance of fouls in his last match, he would need to get an adult to take a look at getting it any bigger. "And you like writing? So that how you know so much about words 'n stuff?"

George turned a bit red as he caught that wink, trying to stifle even more giggling. Why was he giggling? Normally he laughed. He suddenly felt quite self-conscious, adjusting how he was standing and putting his hands in his pockets in an attempt to seem a bit more casual. Maybe he had some kind of half-giant phobia. Or maybe he was just afraid that Hugh's mustache would wriggle off his lip and attack him. The thing did seem to have a mind of its own. "I never said you were stupid, I just said you were being stupid. I do it all the time," he assures the older boy, with a confident nod to match his suddenly casual demeanor. "I mean - that was a bit Muggley of me to say, maybe. It isn't really dead if it's the language you need to do magic, but nobody speaks it anymore. Don't ask me why magic can't be done in proper English. I'm not that smart."

The young man nodded along, looking quite pleased with Hugh's work pronouncing the words. "That's way better! Just have to do it a bit faster. Keep the same e-nun-ci-a-tion, though, that's important. A clumsy tongue does you no good," he added. He gave another sagely nod at his own wisdom - though his eyes opened a bit wider at Hugh's blunt question. "How bad? Not very. Quite good. Honest."

The Hufflepuff pinched the edge of his robe and picked it up a bit, showing off his house colours as if they were proof of his honesty. He was just a fair just little Hufflepuff, after all. He'd never lie. "Well, I never said that..." George said, looking immensely pleased that Hugh thought he was the boss of Charms. Hugh's accomplishment seems to give George pause, his eyes wandering to the ceiling as he tries to imagine how a keeper scored. Was that allowed? His mind flashed back to all his post-game chats with Willow. Was she even allowed to score when she was the keeper? "That's more than decent. You'd have to be good to get on the Gryffindor team. Not Hufflepuff good, but good anyways, I guess."

He gave an awkward grimace of a smile after that joke, hoping it landed well. He was never really sure how to get by in the realm of Quidditch - it was much cooler than Muggle sports, but that was a low bar. "Aye, and from reading, too. I don't write about sports, though, 'cause I've never been much into sports." An almost imperceptible murmur of "except gobstones," follows, as George exhales. "I read ahead in my Charms book and they had an appendix about incantations at the end I read through, so I'm alright with my latin. Not like I'm fluent, but I can read the words off the page 80 percent of the time."

His eyes scanned the older boy's face carefully, waiting to see if he'd garnered any approval by talking about books. Was that too uncool? It was a school, but in Muggle school, it was typically a bit of a faux pas to learn anything. Ignorance was much more stylish. "Oh, uh - the wand movement's like this, by the way," he said, picking up his own wand and waving it as a demonstration for the larger boy.

"Hufflepuff good, huh?" Hugh laughed. "I guess there's merit behind that. They did beat us all on every turn. Been doing good still as far as I'm aware." Hufflepuff was indeed a team not to mess with in Quidditch. Either by dumb luck or professional training, they had made it all the way through to the Championship between Wizarding schools. He assumed Pierre had likely taken over from him in the team, though he had not checked back in with the boy. To be fair, he hadn't really checked in with anybody from his house. For some reason he just felt they were... distant. He did not feel close to them at all.

"So what do you write about? Something fun?" Hugh inquired with interest, letting his head rest on one of his arms. Hugh's eyes caught George's staring at him. Smiling back at him, he nodded and listened once the other turned to pick up his wand. The part-giant's gaze followed, but when he lifted his own wand up in the air it would become apparent that the boy needed a little more practice than that. His long arm sliced through the air in a slow motion and his hand was holding the stick in an awkward grip. As if he was ready to stab someone. And people wondered why part-giants could seem so violent. "Like this?" It was almost adorable the way he looked to George for approval at that moment. Like a dog not knowing if he was leading his owner in the right direction.

George lifted his chin, a proud smile on his face as Hugh agreed regarding their Quidditch achievements. Even though just moments ago he had admitted to knowing nothing about Quidditch, he was happy to bask in his unearned pride about it. "I think so. I've got a few friends on the team - I go to cheer them on and keep up with the score, but to be honest, I just stand up and cheer when everyone else does." That bit was a little dishonest - he knew to cheer when the ball went through the other team's hoops and whenever our chaser caught the snitch. Although sometimes that was a bad thing, apparently - he'd read a lot of critique before he decided that it wasn't for him. "I haven't been to a duel yet, but I'd like to. That sounds like a proper sport."

Just as violent as Quidditch, but with a bit more magical skill and elegance around it. Like fencing. Or cricket. The younger boy watched Hugh's technique with a sort of pained look on his face. Professor Vernatis had said that the wand was an extension of the body, but Hugh made it look like an unnatural, mutated limb. "I think you're... I don't know, you're sort of... forcing it? I don't know how to put it. Think about how you hold a pen. It's a natural movement." He demonstrated again before stowing his wand, stepping a bit closer to Hugh. "Here, like this."

George slowly reached out toward Hugh's hand, as if he were approaching a scared animal, fearing that it might lash out and hit him. "Oh! You know - imagine you're conducting an orchestra. That's what I did before I got used to it," he says, lowering his voice and glancing about - a bit embarrassed to reveal his techniques. Learning a skill made it seem like you were no good at it - it implied that there was a time when you were bad at it, which was a reputation which George intended to avoid like the plague. The coolest thing to do is to succeed without trying, which is impossible, so you've just got to act like it. Cool as a cucumber, George tried not to look at Hugh as he adjusted the older boy's grip on his wand, repositioning his fingers delicately. Something about this was definitely weird, even though he'd done the same thing for Jake in the first year. Some idle chatter helped clear his head. "About my writing, it's usually... well, you might not think it's fun. I like to write about... current events, sort of. The news. Politics. Stuff going on with the other schools and stuff. I like to imagine that I'm quite good at it. I was on the front page a few times. Do you read the Daily Prophet?"