Freedom of Hogwarts Expression PV Ami/Scott Closed

Godmodding of Ami Procoppio permitted by the badgeroo herself

Scotland was flying past him, second by second, field by field. The train had only started moving some twenty or thirty minutes ago, but still Scott swore he could feel the rest of his summer right upon him as though it loomed just around the next neck of trees. And what resonated so sweetly, was how happy that feeling made him this year.

Last, not so much. And it was with some dejection that Scott began recalling that trip, instead. The confusion that came with quiet. The distress that came with change. The compartment full of people that he liked, no doubt, but had no idea how to talk to.

And of course, the downright upsetting lack of redheads – a problem that a Hogwarts student, of all people, faces so rarely that he can't ever be prepared for it. A statistical mockery.

Still. It had all turned into quite a fine summer, hadn't it? His grandparents, his brother, some parts to the summer camp... But there wasn't a shred of doubt in the boy's mind today, that this one would beat the last in all ways imaginable.

Because this time, all was how it was supposed to be.

"What about albatross?"

Scott turned his head incredulously to her, from where he'd rested it against the cold glass of the train window. Neither of them had said anything for quite some time, which was more than a rare occurrence between these particular pair of friends, and so the ardent flipping through of National Geographic from her side of the compartment had instead turned into something of a white noise for him.

"...What?"

"Albatross. They have a wingspan of over three meters," she added.

"Sounds like compensation to me."

"I'd be a great albatross. On a scale from one to ten, how inconspicuous do you think one of them could be in Britain? If I really try to blend in, I mean. Maybe hang around extra large seagulls..."

Scott didn't actually reply this time, but merely smiled patiently as she searched his face for any kind of tell.

"Fine. Note taken." She sighed, and the flipping continued.

Scott chuckled softly as the flaming head in front of him snapped from left to right over and over again with every new page she turned to. He had actually been the one to bring the magazine in the first place, but judging by the fire behind those eyes of hers he supposed he shouldn't try and get it back just yet, lest he lose a finger or two.

"I see you're trying to turn the paper back into pulp," he said importantly, and uncrossed his legs to invite Lady onto his lap instead. She'd been stretching lazily over the seat next to his, but seemed now less than content with the rekindling of the friends' conversation. Sulky one, Scott thought, and started petting her fur apologetically. "Then again, who am I to dismiss a creative process of any kind? Perhaps the tree from which the paper was made could tell us both more about the animal kingdom than the scientists behind the print ever could. It's honestly very wise of you... Appealing to the spirits of nature themselves... You know what, I changed my mind. 'Don't dream it, be it' and all that. If you want the ability to turn into a jacked up seagull at will, you've got my full support. Long live Livingston!"

Scott made a ceremonious fist over his heart and poked the back of the magazine teasingly with the tip of his shoe.

"Forever drifting."

"There you are."

Snapping his head to the left, Scott quickly attributed the second North American accent in his vicinity (always be wary when there's two) to the sliver of pale skin and red hair visible through the now partially opened compartment door. He hadn't heard the squeaking of it before, but did so thoroughly as the rest of the girl made her way inside and shut it behind her.

"Alexander."

"Decipio."

Scott nodded politely, then smiled in a more genuine manner as he retrieved his foot from where it had landed next to their Hufflepuff friend and let her take a seat.

Of course, he knew who Evelynn was. Prefect, quidditch player, Headliner editor... Much like Alan, she was one of those people who did a little bit of everything. And those people are positively impossible not to know. Especially if you're someone like Scott, who enjoys nothing more than knowing people. Or knowing of them, at the very least.

"You wouldn't believe what I walked in on two cars back...I'm really not sure why anyone thinks it wise to practice curse of the bogies at all, really, but in such a confined space... Are you looking forward to the summer holidays? Will you be attending Severin's party?"

Lady hopped off his lap in protest. Three voices were three too many, apparently, and she crawled in under his elbow and hid her head against the seat. Scott just laughed, and was about to reply with either an anecdote from one of his own rounds of the express, or their plans for the summer, when he shifted his gaze in passing over Ami.

The redhead had stopped flipping. But not in the name of hospitality. Not in the name of hospitality at all. The fire behind her eyes turned instead into something tepid and unclear. And the air in the compartment felt thicker by the second.

Looking back to Evelynn, Scott was suddenly struck by more than a few memories of some quite one-sided conversations he'd had with his friend this year. Venting, some would call it. About a particular quidditch game. Now, Scott was there. He'd been sat on the bleachers, dutifully waving both his and Ami's scarves whenever either team scored their points or did something particularly impressive... What he hadn't known then was that this was a game he'd apparently never be allowed to forget.

So at the moment Scott was torn between this very slight sense of curious anticipation, and three of the most prominent wishes of his life:

–the wish to always have his friend's back
–the wish to make everyone feel as welcome as possible literally all the time
–the wish to sit back and think himself invisible

"We... Are..." Scott was churning out the words slowly, awaiting some kind of cue from his friend. But when it didn't come, threw caution to the wind. Deep breath. "–going to Ireland! To Ballintoy. That is, I told my grandmother we were coming, which means Ami doesn't have a choice anymore but to join me. Let it be known, disappointing Irish ladies can be a fatal mistake. We'll see about the party, though, won't we? Should be able to squeeze it in one way or the other. Working bees, and all that... Queen's summon! Honestly, I'd really like to. Are you going? Might need someone to make sure there are no inexpert curses flown around there, either..."

A lot had changed over the past year. Ami had grown exponentially taller, she had suffered her first real heartbreak, and she had begun a transformative self-discovery process that was, surprisingly, not puberty. She was ready for a relaxing summer with Scott in Ballintoy, sipping tea with his grandmother while emptying her brain of all the magic she had learned over the past school year. A quaint cottage on the coast, with easy access to the ocean, was exactly the getaway she needed. Perhaps she would meet a nice Irish lass when she went into the town and strike up a conversation in which Ami was the suave, cool American...

Or maybe not. Ami, much to her dismay, was drawn back into the conscious world from her daydreams when she heard a voice that was definitely not Scott's. Like Scott, she turned her head from her NatGeo magazine to the doorway of the compartment, although, unlike Scott, she did not offer the redhead a smile.

When faced with an unexpected or difficult decision, many entered a fight or flight mode. And generally, as many would expect, Ami preferred to pick the fight option, occasionally fleeing when she knew there was no way she would win a fight. But in a confined compartment on a train and her best friend sitting right across from her, the fifth year Hufflepuff decided to go with a third option: freeze. As Evelynn took a seat next to her, Ami's hands stilled uncharacteristically, and her entire body seemed to lock up like she was being filmed for the Mannequin Challenge. (ay, throwback to 2016! lol! *dabs*)

Because although she hated this particular trait of hers, Ami held grudges, and she took things way too personally. When she had awoken in the Hospital Wing after Hufflepuff's match against Gryffindor, she had felt different. Not just because she had taken a tumble from her broom nearly 100 feet in the air, no. No, she felt different because the guilt of knowing that nearly the entire Hufflepuff quidditch team was in the Wing as well made her sick to her stomach. At least every other time she had come to consciousness in the Hospital Wing, she had been alone. She had been the only person injured and confined to bed rest. But this time, her whole team, the people who looked to her for guidance and leadership, had been in the Hospital Wing with her. And throughout her entire stay in the Hospital Wing, all she could keep asking herself was What went wrong? How could she have been so stupid as to allow for so many of her friends, her family to get so severely injured? If only to preserve her pride, her dignity, and to take some of that guilt off her chest, Ami blamed Gryffindor. She knew it was wrong, that it was nothing personal, and that it was just a game. But when she saw the Lions take down Quinn... something had snapped inside her. And when Pierre had come hurtling out of the sky towards her, knocking her clean off her broom, she had had only one thought.

Fuck you, Evelynn.

And now, the lioness was sitting next to her. The two really hadn't talked much after that match, mostly due to Ami avoiding the Gryffindor at all costs. When they spoke, she had been cordial (although a bit snappish), but they hadn't met for any morning training sessions like they normally did. The two redheads had struck up quite a good rapport with one another throughout the school year, and Ami had considered Evelynn to be one of her closest friends. But seeing her teammates in the Hospital Wing at the hands of the Gryffindor quidditch team had been too much for house loyalty, her pride, and her dignity, so she had shunned Decipio for the remainder of the school year.

Thankfully, Scott had picked up the slack where Ami's social skills were lacking. Thank god both of them were ramblers when faced with an uncomfortable situation, because she was able to relax slightly as Scott info-dumped about their summer onto Evelynn. Ballintoy, just think about Ballintoy, she thought to herself, trying to keep herself from flying at Evelynn with her fists.

Realizing that Scott had trailed off and was now staring at her, Ami blinked in surprise and nodded curtly. "What he said," she mumbled, setting the magazine aside with pursed lips. She was being rude, wasn't she? It's not Evelynn's fault, she thought to herself, but the mental image of her entire quidditch team in the Hospital Wing was still burned into the back of her mind. Still, that didn't mean she could be outright rude to a prefect. Sighing loudly, she tossed the magazine into her backpack and stared straight ahead at Scott. She wouldn't be nice- she couldn't be nice, but she still had to be polite. "Yup, Ballintoy... can't disappoint Scott's granny."

And then, as she tilted her head towards Evelynn, she saw the Gryffindor yearbooks. Her pursed lips curved downward into an outright scowl. All thoughts of being polite were suddenly swept off the table, as the sight of the books put her in an inexplicably terrible mood. "Did you have a good school year, Decipio?" she said pointedly, the prefect's last name being wielded as a weapon against her. Look, it yelled. Look at where you stand. We are not familiar enough to warrant a first name basis anymore. "Yearbook looks awfully thick, the stack looks like it weighs as much as Quinn. I would know, I've had to carry him to the Hospital Wing. Do you know how hard it is to carry an unconscious part-giant from the Quidditch Pitch to the Hospital Wing? Because I'm strong, but I'm not quite strong enough to pull that off. Thank god I was knocked unconscious after the Gryffindor match though, couldn't possibly imagine having to do it a second time. Maybe the stack should have its own seat, then."

Shooting to her feet, Ami plopped down in the seat next to Scott, Leo staring at her in disappointment from his perch in the luggage rack above Evelynn's head. Earlier, she had accidentally scared him off by nearly dropped her backpack on his tail, and he had retreated to the safety of the rack, but now he stubbornly refused to come down, and appeared to be disapproving of Ami's words and actions toward the younger Gryffindor.

Whatever. She didn't care.

The environment of the small compartment could only be described as tepid. Mister Alexander had never been one with whom Evelynn had had much interaction. Two years her senior and with wildly (presumably) different hobbies and time occupations, the two rarely had any reason to cross paths. That said, neither had she ever found him anything but pleasant. Polite and kept, he was--at least insofar as she could discern--a picture perfect image of what a typical Gryffindor boy ought to be. D'Spacito could take notes. This, coupled with his companionship with Ami meant that his was a presence that Evelynn could only associate with warmth.

It seemed, as well, that he reciprocated those notions (at least in part). Rather than scold her for a presumptuous entry, he presented her with a dashing smile and promptly removed his feet from their previous resting place. Silent in sound the invitation may have been, but the meaning was only too loud to ignore. Please, have a seat, he had offered. She would have been rude to put his gesture to waste and deny it. Never mind that she had already been in the process of helping herself anyway, Evelynn flashed him an appreciative smile of her own with a trill of a, "Thank you~," before settling herself in.

Turning her attention over to Ami, the smile had persisted, expecting to find one mirrored back to her. If there had, however, the pervading temperature of the room would have been warm. And, as was mentioned, it was not at all. In fact, almost immediately, Evelynn was hit with the sensation of ice being dropped down the back of her robe. The fire of Ami's hair belied the ice cold chip upon her shoulder. Instead of energetic exuberance, the upperclassman may as well have been a shadow of a former self. Forlorn and drawn into herself, she barely even cast Evelynn a second glance, offering only to utter a half-hearted mumble of agreement to the boy's response. Forced instead to defer to Alexander for conversation, then, Evelynn peeled her squinting skepticism from Ami and instead turned a softened look to a very not-at-all-invisible him.

"Ireland!" Evelynn echoed, brows lofting in pleasant curiosity. A chuckle trickled from her lips with the warning not to disappoint Irish ladies. "I suppose it must be much akin to crossing a Romanian. Or at least so my mother tells me. Perhaps it's simply any European woman. Will you be there long?" she wondered, her gaze flicking briefly to Ami before returning to Scott.

But it didn't stay there long. When the brooding shade finally elected to speak, Evelynn's focus snapped right to her. All of a sudden, the weight of the stuffy room began to lift, the tension rising as acknowledgement of the conversation and participation therein were finally granted. Evelynn's smirk renewed, a single brow shrugging concession at the desire not to disappoint the granny. But of course, all things that rise must yet come down eventually. The fall here was only too swift, waves of a tsunami crashing down to wash whatever joy had managed to settle on the prefect's features away, leaving nothing but consternation and veiled confusion in their place.

Decipio. If the frown or the pointed tone of voice like a dagger to the gut hadn't been enough to tip the girl off that Ami was in a mood, the use of the surname would have. Clearly, she was upset. Evelynn suspected she might have reason to know why, but it didn't hurt any less. With her pride on the line in more ways than one, Evelynn attempted to keep her posture upright and be back straight. The weight of the Hufflepuff co-captain's ire was more even than Evelynn's dignity, however, and shoulders ended up bowing despite best efforts, uncertain glimpses fleetingly cast in Scott's direction as though seeking some sort of reassurance or explanation. The latter, at least, would be provided soon enough as the torrential tirade continued, passive-aggressive commentary more than adequate at pin-pointing the eye of the brewing storm.

"You could simply cast--"

Evelynn cut own muttering off before habit could betray her and dig her grave deeper than it was already. With the situation as it was, pointing out an easier--magical--way to loft unconscious bodies for simple transport to the Hospital Wing would decidedly not work in the Gryffindor's favour. Not that it helped. Ami had shot to her feet like an arrow released from a bow, finding her mark on the other side of the compartment. As far from Evelynn as she could have managed without relinquishing her turf entirely.

"I.. er.." Teeth grit, edges biting subtly on the inside of her lower lip as the flood gates open and the sensitive topic was broached. Another glance towards Scott before hesitant grays slid back across the hostile target in question then came to settle on the innocuous stack of yearbooks. A rise and fall of shoulders, then a prolonged exhale through her nose.. "I was actually thinking we ought to talk about that..." she tried again, the light of humor void from her speech. "That last game was... not exactly how I had envisioned it playing out. I doubt D'Spacito ever would, but I wanted to apolgize on his behalf for how aggressively we had played. I will admit, I had been hoping for a more conservative strategy.."