Lighten up, Buttercup! PV Hui Ming Closed

Ming was not the biggest fan of meal times. Meal times, indubitably meant people. And people meant the bustling, moving, chaos and noise of the student body.

Would it kill these people to sit still and remain composed for the duration of a single meal?

The answer, more likely than not, was yes. Yes, it probably would. Ming could not imagine what a calm version of certain of his year-mates would even look like. For his part, Ming was the image of a responsible, put-together student. A fresh school uniform, prim and spotless. Hair neatly combed. The reassuring weight of his glasses on his face.

For all that Ming had spent a year amidst the chaotic bustle of Hogwarts, he could not quite get used to the lack of calm in this environment. He had finally, after great pains, managed to convince himself that not every day was a disaster waiting to happen, but the sound and bustle still put the first-year on edge. It was uncomfortable and made him feel antsy.

In spite of his discomfort Ming was the picture of the refined young gentleman, cutting into his eggs with impeccable table manners, using the silverware with a calm familiarity brought on from years of experience. It would not do to look anything less than in complete control, after all.

The first sign that this was going to be more than a typical, uncomfortable meal was the sound of someone sitting next to him, causing the first-year to tense instinctively. Those that knew him knew that he liked his space, so this was likely someone who he had not interacted deeply with. After a moment’s hesitation, Ming returned to his eggs, hoping that this was just a coincidence and that the person next to him would leave him alone.

Alas. It was not to be so.

"Multicorfors,"

Ming heard, more than felt, the impact of the spell. Ming blinked, surprised.

Surely no one was stupid enough to attack him out in the open like this?

But no. No, there was no pain. No weird growths, or discomfort. The spell was not meant to hurt him, then.

Ming bit into the last forkful of his eggs, before carefully placing his silverware down properly to indicate a completed meal, even as his mind rand a mile a minute.

What was that spell? Multi meant many, and there was something about a core. But…

Ming wiped his mouth on a napkin, before bringing his attention to the person who had cast at him.
“Perhaps start with a ‘hello’ next time, Mister…..?” Ming said slowly.

Note: Ming has not yet noticed the effect of the spell
Edit: Minor punctuation changes
@Jack Burnett

"Oops, did I hit you?" Jack asked, casting Hui a curious look. "Huh. Maybe I did it wrong..." He adopted an expression of deep thought for a moment before he was snapped out of it by the other boy's words. Said words brought a huge grin to the Welsh teen's face.

"Hello," he greeted sweetly; sweet enough to give someone cavities. "Where are my manners? I'm Jack Burnett. Please, don't bother with that 'mister' nonsense. We're all kids here," he insisted with a playfully haughty and dismissive wave. "Just 'Burnett' is fine. You must be Hui Ming! I've seen you hang around with my dormmate, Avery Chen, from time to time, and then I know I've seen you from time to time at things like the Dormbattles, but I don't think we've ever had the pleasure of actually meeting one another properly."

Beaming, Jack extended a hand to shake, careful not to let the sleeve of his robes trail into their food or drinks. "Mind if I call you Ming? I find calling people by their first names to be a bit too intimate for my tastes. So, what are you? A Wizard-born? A pureblood? A mudblood like me?" the talkative young man asked. He took a moment to eat a fork-full of scrambled eggs and a bite of bacon while watching Ming expectantly.

"Sorry about earlier. Sometimes when I practice spell incantations, I still have my wand in my hand. It's easy to forget when you've been raised as a muggle all your life and a wand just looks like a stick to you. And there are so many incantations! Like Epoximise," he stated, gathering another fork-full of egg with one hand while waving his wand hand under the table, wand aimed at Hui's seat. "What in the world is that supposed to do?"

Jack wasn't sure it would succeed, especially since he was attempting to cast a spell without seeing his wand movement or where he was directing it at, but his intention was for Hui's pants to end up glued to the wooden bench. Not that he expected Hui to notice right away.

@Hui Ming

The first-year struggled not to visibly sigh as the older boy rattled off words at him at a mile a minute. Burnett (or who Ming assumed was Burnett, keeping up with the torrent of words was an exhausting affair) was one of those endless balls of energy who tired people out merely from being in proximity to them.

Ming stared in almost stupefied silence, as the older boy kept talking while doing a variety of activities, from casually committing social faux pas to offering to shake his hand to casting an unknown spell.

Was this what getting whiplash felt like? Ming wondered idly, oddly distant from the entire situation. Confusion battled with sheer exhaustion as the 12-year attempted to make sense of the whirlwhind-of-an-upperclassman, who seemed to be throwing a dozen different things at him each second.

Ming had never found it quite so difficult to keep up: the myriad of stimuli gave rise to several different instinctive reactions, which meshed together into a muddled jumble of ….stuff.

“You are quite….” Ming began slowly, after he realized it had been a full ten seconds since Burnett had (finally!) ceased his oral barrage. The bespectacled boy hesitated, struggling to find a way to end that sentence in a manner that would not be as offensive as the options his mind presented to him.

Goodness gracious, was every person here a circus?

“….something.” Ming finished lamely. The older boy had made ignorant assumptions about his blood - and insulted his upbringing and values - all in one go. And it irked him. It irked him beyond words. Nevermind that it was not the first time, nor the hundredth, that it had happened. Nevermind that this boy was everything that Ming had wanted to avoid in the Snape dorms. Nevermind-

Ming took a deep breath. He would not give in to childish impulses to try and hex this boy. Instead, he looked up at the teenager calmly, not responding to the proffered hand. His mind trying to go over all the things that were said to try and properly absorb them.

“I am glad you had the decency to introduce yourself, Mister Burnett. So few people do.” It was a statement. Calm and short as opposed to the endless pit of energy. With a clear defiance of the older boy's wishes. The subtext was there to be read if Burnett wanted to. As if to underline the potential friction, Ming's right hand brought up the napkin to wipe his mouth again, as his left – dominant hand – drew a walnut wand with a smooth motioned he had practiced to perfection.

The slightest tilt of his head, as he considered the best way forward. “As the Hui family are muggles, I suppose I should follow your example with practicing incantations.”

A small pause, a raised eyebrow. “Mudblood see, Mudblood do. No?”

Note: Feel free to auto-succeed your spells.
Note 2: Ming STILL is unaware of the spells
@Jack Burnett

When Ming began to speak, Jack waited with curious amusement, fully prepared to be insulted. It wasn't as if he was any stranger to it, after all, with the first impressions he tended to leave on people and the fact that he would do so on purpose. The polite boy remained polite as ever, however, when he finished his sentence, causing the redhead to laugh aloud. "Why, thank you!" he answered merrily, clearly choosing to take the comment as a compliment.

Unlike so many others, Ming actually refrained from attempting to hex Jack, though the latter was quite oblivious to just how tempted the former was to give in to his desires. He didn't take the offered hand, though, so Jack dropped it eventually.

"Yes, well I don't make it a habit to introduce myself before someone else does so first, but seeing as how I already know your name, I thought it was only fair," he explained, beaming. He seemed undeterred by any potential message Ming might have been trying to send. That, or he may have simply been ignorant of it; it was hard to say.

Hazel eyes caught on the walnut wand as it was drawn out, though, and Jack's smile faltered slightly, appearing unsure and perhaps a tad uncomfortable about what Ming might have meant to do with it. There was no incantation spoken that Jack could tell, though.

"Wait...the Hui family?" he repeated, blinking in confusion as his mind switch to a different track. "I thought your last name was Ming. Is it actually Hui?"

The mention of 'mudblood see, mudblood do' caused Jack to blink again before he smiled once more. "Well considering I'm a mudblood too, maybe I'm not the best person to imitate if that's how you're looking to learn. It's interesting to meet another mudblood in Slytherin, though. I'm the only one in my whole dorm so far as I know. Oh! At least until Chen joined us."

@Hui Ming

An attempt to turn to properly face the upperclassman was thwarted by the uncharacteristic resistance of his school uniform: Ming had finally become aware of one of the two spells used on him. Instead of attempting to force the movement, however, the Chinese first-year leaned into it, playing off his previous movement as an attempt to get into a more comfortable posture.

Not the worst of spells he could have cast on him, the bespectacled boy conceded in his head. It might even be some misguided attempt to befriend him. And wouldn’t that be something?

The slightest easing of the tension from the younger boy’s shoulders would be visible, even as he held the older boy at wand point. This was not a dangerous interaction. It might even be fun by the twisted and insane standards of Hogwarts.

They were at a stalemate of sorts, should the upper-year forget that he is older and knows more and better spells than Ming. In an attempt to encourage distraction, and to move the conversation away from dangerous waters, Ming chose the most interesting opportunity for distraction.

“I confess myself taken aback by you, Mr Burnett. I had not expected you, a citizen of modern Britain, to openly take such a disparaging stance on Christianity.” Perhaps he oversold the lie. But it seemed just obscure and believable enough to be true, and that served his purposes here. So he continued to explain his meaning with uncharacteristic patience. “Calling yourself a Mudblood, I mean.”

Dark eyes would flicker across the older boy’s face, trying to read his emotions. “Were you aware that the term ‘mudblood’ was coined by British druids disparaging the invading Christian Romans?” The words after came gingerly, to really sell the lie. “‘Mudbloods’, they were called, in mockery of their belief that their God had moulded them from the earth, and that mud ran in their veins instead of magic.”

As he had been expecting a more dramatic or obvious reaction to one of his discovered spells, Jack didn't notice when Ming felt the tug on his clothing and shifted into it while changing position. The older boy was busier watching Ming's wand than his shoulders, so the tension being eased from them also ended up slipping Jack's notice.

What did not escape his notice was that Ming chose not to answer Jack's question regarding his family name. That was something he found odd since he would have thought anyone might have preferred to correct someone regarding their name if they were being addressed wrong. Even so, he let it go, thinking that perhaps Ming might return to the matter later.

"Still with the 'mister'? Mr. Burnett is my father," Jack insisted. He was used to purebloods insisting on such formalities, but if Ming was muggle-born, perhaps the politeness had to do with his culture instead. "But what's this about Christianity?"

As someone who had argued with two teachers on the use of the term 'mudblood' during his first year, Jack was visbly taken aback when Ming mentioned the history regarding it. Neither Professor Vernatis nor Professor Galim had as much to say on the subject when he had written to and talked to them about it. How could this kid, a first year muggle-born, have known about such a thing? And as someone who considered himself a history-lover, the fact that this knowledge had evaded him and not Ming was a source of both intrigue and annoyance to Jack. He was careful not to let it show on his face after his initial surprise, however, quickly easing his expression into one of interest.

"Really? I confess I've never heard of such a thing. Not even from the Muggle Studies professor, and I had a whole discussion with her about the term when I was a first year." he answered. "Do you mind me asking where you heard about it? Most muggle-born students I know aren't even aware of the term 'mudblood' at all. Especially because I thought it was the purebloods who came up with it. You know, because of 'dirty blood'."

It was there he paused, considering something. "If it was a mockery of their belief, though, then I daresay the reason I use the term still applies. It's like the song 'Yankee Doodle'. Do you know it?" he asked, his previously playful demeanor becoming more serious as they dove deeper into a subject that fascinated him.

@Hui Ming

Warning: None of this is canon or true, it is a mixture of Ming’s own speculation, and him intentionally “getting back at” Burnett to prank the prankster, so to speak

“Just because Mr Burnett is Mr Burnett does not make you Mr Burnett also, Mr Burnett.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, even a smidge of satisfaction. He had, after all, successfully diverted the conversation away from matters prickling his pride (like people being unaware that Chinese families generally put their family name before their given name), and towards more harmless and entertaining topics. “Perhaps when you are both together, I shall call you something else. Until that moment, the reputation of your name is being carried by you, is it not?”

A pause, a slight tilt of the head. The first-year then visibly came to a decision and put away his wand with a small nod. Whatever his reasons, the Chinese first-year seemed more interested in speaking than in continuing their little stalemate. When he spoke it was in a slow and deliberate staccato, picking his words carefully as he merged truths and half-truths with wholly invented little nuggets. “Miss Galim would not be the person to speak about on this, would she? Her job is to teach purebloods about our world, and not the other way around.”

“But here is what I know: The term ‘mudblood’ first started to appear in British historical records after the Romans gained a foothold in Brittania around 40 CE,” Ming started carefully, and with an easily-verifiable truth. Of course he failed to mention that there had been no mudblood equivalent in literature prior, because the pre-British were not a literature-heavy culture. “Ancient” Runic languages like Elder Futhark were Celtic and Germanic reactions to having to interact with the Roman culture is the first-second century CE. But that was not the impression that the first-year was trying to convey. His narration implied, instead, that it was not an intra-societal issue, but an imported one. Ming continued, not giving the older boy too long to ruminate on the issue.

“So we know that ‘mudblood’ is a probable derogatory term that came into prominence just as a foreign Christian force was gaining ascendancy in Britain and cracking down violently on the druidic systems of magic. We also know that this was not a term that generated from the invading Romans, who used to call the locals bárbaros.” The first flat-out lie, bárbaros was Greek in origin, not Roman. “A childish slur – people who say ‘bar bar’ – but no one said name-calling had to be creative to be effective. We still use the slur today: barbarian is not an uncommon word, no?”

A small pause, to see if he had bored the upperclassman. “What is interesting though, is that there is no reverse derogatory term, for the Celts to call the Romans. No obvious slur to that effect in the history books.” And why would there be? Historical records were written by the Romans. “And ‘mudblood’ fits this gap so well, does it not? A slur denouncing the very blood of the invaders, especially when the term came into common usage around the same time.”

Speaking so much was tiring, Ming generally spent words like others might spend money. Tight-handedly, as if every syllable was costing him a fortune. And for all his promise that he was going to be different, the sound of his own voice was starting to grate on him. Still, he continued, his impatience showing in a slip-up in enunciation every now and again. “But then how is this a slur against Christians, and not Romans? Well, many Celtic traditions call Roman traders that converted to the Old Faiths as Tadhg an mhargaidh, ‘storytellers of the market’ if you will.” Another untruth. The term was indeed used, but decades later, and to refer to Celts who had converted to Christianity.

“So. ‘Mudblood’ was a term that came into usage around the times of Roman invasion. It was not used to refer to the Celts, nor to converted Roman traders. Therefore, it must follow…”

And he left it there for the older student to chew on, turning back to his breakfast. “Now, if you would be so good as to put your wand away and let me eat in peace?”

Had he been a different student, Jack might have gotten himself completely absorbed in Ming's story and completely forgotten about the fact that Ming was ignoring his questions. However, being a trickster-lover, he was quite well-versed in the ways of tricksters and how they managed to avoid answering questions they didn't want to answer using tactics very similar to Ming's. Because Jack was interested in the tale Ming had to tell, he didn't interrupt as he attentively hung on every word the underclassman had to say until he reached the end of his explanation. When Ming asked if Jack would put away his wand so that he could eat in peace, Jack studied his wand for a handful of seconds. Then, slowly, thoughtfully, he answered, "Mmm...I think not."

The Welsh teenager was not only a lover of tricksters, but an avid lover of history. He loved the subject so much that even before he had come to learn about the wizarding world, he collected different editions of history books to compare their tellings of one event or another. It was still one of his favorite pastimes to compare events in history books, especially now that he had wizardkind's history to compare against muggle history. He frequently raided the history section at the library and almost always had a history text in his bag to read for leisure. But in all his reading, he had yet to come across much of what Ming was telling him then.

That might not have been so unbelievable in itself, but when he had asked where Ming had gotten his knowledge and Ming had simply replied with more of what he 'knew' instead of a proper answer, Jack started to get suspicious. As a talker, Jack was also familiar with the tactic of talking to distract from something else, so he began to wonder what Ming was hiding.

"I think that may be the most anyone's ever talked to me without answering any questions I had for them," he noted, casting Ming a strange smile, like the Chinese boy was some fascinating new sort of creature he'd never seen before. Then he moved his wand under the table to poke Ming in the ribs. Leaning over, he whispered sweetly, "You have three seconds to answer my question before we find out the hard way if you know the song 'Yankee Doodle'. Are you lying to me, Hui Ming?"

@Hui Ming