In Passing PV Ruth

—Silver hair green eyes—
𝕽uth Fairchild had been putting this off for far too long.

Was it so wrong to be curious? It was like a gap in her woven heart that had yet to be stitched. One could only mend it with the knowledge that she had only thought to seek ever since stepping onto the grounds of Hogwarts. How strange that she had never once thought of her heritage before that. Never asked. Never questioned. Never wondered.

Something must have triggered her, surely. Oh yes, the fact that she was no mere muggle but a bloody witch. How was that even possible? Up until her first instance of magic, Ruth had no belief in wizardry whatsoever-- all sorts of topics to do with magic seemed like rubbish, tricks one would do under the guise of another. But she had been so wrong. Magic had existed. She was a witch.

None of it made sense.

It didn't come as a surprise to anyone who knew her that she would soon be devouring books and books to do with the subject of wizardry until she knew what felt like enough. Ruth was a muggle-born, a child whose parents, or parent, had a magical bloodline long suppressed before it had decided to appear again. That bit was easy to understand. What was harder was understanding who it was she may have gotten it from.

This may have seemed like an easy thing to do if one had a family tree and connections. Only Ruth had neither. Ask your parents, one would suggest. No answers. At least, not now. It didn't seem appropriate to send them a letter regarding this issue, not that she was expecting it to get lost or stolen. The topic at hand just felt like something she should discuss face to face, something that would have to wait until break to do so.

She was lost. The Hogwarts Library was of little help. While Ruth managed to discover several biographies of well-known purebloods, she found none on Fairchilds. Of course, she constantly cast furtive looks towards the restricted section, ever wondering if there might be something in there worth looking at. But alas, First Years had access to only so much. Yearbooks. Those would help, if only Ruth could pick a year to look through. Staring at the rows of yearbooks, Ruth didn't have the heart to go through them all. Even if she did, the tediousness of the task and the daunting realisation that it won't go entirely well as she had hoped led her to not bother trying.

There did the pursuit of knowledge slowed to a meandering walk that had only just picked up its pace again just yesterday. Ruth had been lazing around at the Boathouse with everyone else when her thoughts had drifted back to the situation at hand. It had seemed hopeless even then. But wait--the Sorting Hat.

Eureka.

Now there she was, loitering around the fifth-floor corridor, examining the beaked gargoyle with mild intensity. What had been the password, again? Out of all things she could have dismissed from her head, it was this that had been erased from her mind in its entirety. Hopeless. She felt hopeless.

Dejected, Ruth swiftly turned and made to leave, fingers tracing the stone lightly under her fingertips as she made to walk around the statue. Half-wondering where she should go next, Ruth had barely registered the figure before her, a male with a foreign face. When she did, she almost jumped. When had he come by? Surely Ruth should have heard him. Why hadn't she? Too self-absorbed, I bet.

Ruth straightened herself and gazed at him to find the other already staring. It was too late now. She had been caught snooping around the Headmaster's Office entry. What if he thought her to be a sign of mischief? Not that she was planning on vandalising or pranking or anything...She opened her mouth to utter an excuse, then closed it. A foreign face. International students! They just as April had begun, hadn't they? Surely this guy was new to Hogwarts. Maybe he had no idea what she was planning to do. Deciding to seize the opportunity, she nodded at him and planned to leave.

That was, until her eyes were drawn to his silver hair. Silver. Initially, she was taken aback. She gazed back at his face. Youthful. Then his hair. Ah."That's an interesting choice of hair dye," she muttered out, louder than she intended to. Not that she was against it or anything. It just seemed odd on the boy. As quickly as she had accidentally let slip, Ruth addressed him, "Hello! Are you lost?" Still she was unable to pry the quizzical look off her face as she regarded the boy and his silver hair.

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Speech - Thoughts

A deer caught in headlights.

That is how Hikari would describe the look the girl gave him when their eyes met; wide-eyed, tense, as though being seen had thrown her off balance. Silence stretched between them, taut and brittle. you could easily cut it with a knife.

Hikari glanced at the gargoyle statue again, the flicker of recognition settling into clarity. Of course, he had seen a picture of it in one of his father's old books. That statue had been meant to guard the entrance to the headmaster's office. Which meant that they were right outside it.

Well that would explain the way the girl had frozen up on seeing him, as if caught breaking the rules. Then again, she hadn't seemed to be attempting to break in, just...lingering.

Hikari shook his head. Not his business. He had much more important things to do than to play the role of rule enforcer.

Still, his eyes followed her as she began to walk around him, as if unsure of whether she wanted to acknowledge his presence or pretend that he wasn't there. Her eyes lifted hesitantly, not to his face, but to settle on his hair. She started a beat too long, then made a passing comment about it's color. Hikari blinked, caught between a mix of irritation and the familiar weight of indifference. Her remark wasn't rude, just... unnecessary. He responded coolly, voice flat but not unkind, "I'm not lost. I was looking for an empty classroom."

He didn't offer more. He never did.

—Introduction—
𝕴nternational student or not, he wasn't as clueless as Ruth had thought. She didn't miss the glimpse of recognition flicker in his expressionless eyes, nor was she mistaken by the dulling iris at her terrible commentary on his hair. Why had she done that? Damn her and her brutal honesty! Was it too late to apologise? No, that would be to admit that her judgement was wrong and uncanny. It would also mean to address the problem when the conversation had already moved on.

"Empty classroom?" She repeated after him, a rhetorical question that needed no further confirmation. Ruth was almost confused as to how contradictory the statement was. Classes were over, and almost any classroom would have been bare of students or professors. The fact that he was already up on the fifth floor looking for one when there were many in the previous floors was not lost on Ruth, but she made no room to question him. She was assuming too much about him. Surely he had his own reasons.

Oh well. If it was really that hard to find a classroom spotless of a student, it wouldn't be harmful to help. What's more, it wasn't like Ruth would be able to sneak around with him nearby. She flashed a friendly smile towards him and stepped closer. "Well then, I could help you if you'd like. There are a few down this corridor--" she pointed towards the curve in the distance, "--but none as good as the ones downstairs. They're got the best lighting, and you seldom see people there during this hour."

She looked around mildly for a moment before her eyes trained back on him and his luscious hair of silver. "Would you like me to take you there? Also, by chance are you an international student? What school are you from? Tenusa? No...mm, the one that starts with M, maybe. What's your name? I'm Ruth," she began to blab, extending a hand out for a warm shake. "Ruth Fairchild, first year Hufflepuff, at your service."

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Japanese -English - Thoughts -

The girl kept talking, a flicker of curiosity, and even friendliness lighting her features as she spoke. Hikari studied her like he often tended to study the objects he would draw, quietly, precisely, without letting on how much he was noticing.

Most people when met with silence took it as a cue to leave but the girl lingered, offered help, even.

His eyes followed the motion of her hand, noting the gentle curve of the corridor out of sight. Better lighting, she had said. She wasn't wrong.

Yet Hikari had looked inside the rooms on the fifth floor already. Admittedly they weren't as good as the classrooms he had lingered outside on the first floor, yet they would suffice. The problem about the first and second floors had been the foot traffic— busy crowds of students in the corridors, wandering about, laughing, way too bright. It was much emptier here. Calmer, more peaceful.

"I was looking for a classroom where I wouldn't be disturbed." He stated quietly, "And north-facing, so the light doesn't move too quickly."

The girl had shifted closer, rattling off guesses about his school and missing the name entirely. "Mahoutokoro." Hikari supplied calmly, hand slipping into hers in a firm hand shake. "Hikari Fujimoto. First year."

She was talkative, energetic. Hikari didn't specifically mind that. After all, he had grown used to Akari's loud, constant companionship, his constant stream of chatter. He was still the only friend he had. He had not told Akari of that, because if he knew his friend at all, he'd take that as a personal challenge and launch a full-scales campaign to find Hikari some friends. And he could do without all that attention.

He turned to look at Ruth Fairchild again, "If you know such a classroom, you can show me the way."

—Leading the way —
Mahouokoro! That's what the school name was. Ruth felt the urge to palm herself on her head. It was one thing to guess the school wrong. It was another to miss the name entirely (aside from the first letter. Good try.) Ruth found herself embarrassed for the second time. It was odd how often she was beginning to mess up.

Hikari Fujimoto was excellent at giving handshakes. Ruth distracted herself from the colouring of her cheeks by nodding along to his requests for an optimal classroom. "Those are some specifics you've got there, Mr. Fujimoto," she joked, beckoning him to follow her. "May I perhaps know what it is you are looking to do?"

She took a glance at his bag. It seemed loose fitting and drapped lightly over the boy's shoulder. Books? Why hadn't he gone to the library, then? It was a curious thing. Well, she thought to herself as the two navigated through the long winded corridor. It certainly has something to do with lighting. Oh well. Nothing Hikari couldn't answer, if he felt like it. If it was personal, Ruth would stop pestering him. After all, she was just a stranger. She had no right to know of his doings. Perhaps a little, considering he was a student from another school.

Speaking of internationality..."How do you find Hogwarts so far?" Ruth asked. "Is it very different from Mahoutokoro? I'm assuming you haven't been here before, have you? You're a First Year after all. What's Mahoutokoro like? That's...where is it exactly?" A bunch of questions. It was enough to fulfill Ruth's thirst for knowledge and her deprived curiosity, but also more than ample to distract Hikari from what she had been doing prior to their encounter.

Her thoughts drifted and soon she was only half listening to Hikari's replies. How would Ruth seize the chance to speak to the Sorting Hat again? She needed to find someone who knew the pass code, and also didn't question her reasons for wanting it. Not someone close to her. Ruth had a selective number of choices even if that wasn't the case. Aurelia would have ranted on about the ethics behind her plan, and Pamela...Ruth didn't want to trouble her again. Janosch? She was certain that he knew just as much as she did, which wasn't really helpful to either of them. Who else did she know?

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Japanese -English - Thoughts -

Hikari walked beside her, his footsteps light and measured, as though he were trying not to make too much noise—either out of habit or an unconscious desire to disappear into the silence of the corridor.

Her volley of questions, though, made his lips twitch. She reminded him of someone. No—several someones. Bright, energetic types who often danced ahead in the conversation, tugging him along like a kite on a string. Hayato, Akari; somehow, Hikari always seemed to attract those people who glowed like the sun, while he himself.... was more like a shadow. Present, but rarely noticed.

Her bright, relentless chatter gave Hikari a sense of deja vu as he patiently waited for her to finish, arranging her questions into a mental checklist. "I wanted to sketch," he said quietly, "Most of the classrooms below don't have sufficient lighting."

The next question had made him pause. How did he find Hogwarts so far? He supposed it wasn't too bad. The people were decent, although he hadn't interacted with many of them. It was louder than he was used to though; there was an air of informality and chaotic comfort, which was equal parts nice and exhausting. It made his social battery deplete twice as fast as it did at back at home.

"It's nice, I think." he offered, "It’s on the volcanic island of Minami Iwo Jima, Japan. It's.... not as big as this." He waved his hand around, "Less.... ghosts."

He let the words linger in the air before adding, more to himself than to her, "The robes change colors depending on your academic level. There's pressure in that sense. Everyone can see how you're doing... or not doing."

—Destination Arrived—
𝓝ot Janosch, not Pamela, not Aurelia. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of who, what, when, where, and how. Why? It wasn't a question that occurred to her. She knew the reason behind infiltrating the headmaster's office. Surely the others need not question it?

Her mulling was cut short as Hikari explained to her the purpose behind scavenging for the perfect spot--to sketch. Ruth couldn't help but feel a spark of admiration towards him, but also the slightest hint of confusion. Why hadn't he just gone outside? It wasn't particularly cold or humid. It was spring--the grounds would have sprouted fresh flowers, and the smell of dewy grass would clear one's head. She couldn't understand. Didn't understand.

But to each their own. Her curiosity was brimming again, and she would hate to make a terrible first impression upon herself as a student at Hogwarts. Not that she hadn't already. However, here he was, still walking next to her, obediently answering her questions without uttering a complaint. She must be doing something right.

"Sketching, huh?" She nodded along as they reached the final stretch of the winding hallway. "Sounds like a nice hobby. Wish I could sketch, only they look so morbid I couldn't possibly ruin someone's day by leaving them on ink," Ruth sighed to herself, fingers unconsciously fisting her robes before letting them hang loose by her sides. Almost instantly, she could envision the ridiculous doodle she had given Aurelia for Valentine's. Should it not have been for her eccentric taste in material, Ruth had no doubt Aurelia would have gasped in horror. Aurelia, gasping? Hm. What an odd vision.

Ruth stopped next to the final door at the edge of the corridor, fingers grasping onto the knob before tugging it open. "We don't have robes like those here at Hogwarts," the Hufflepuff answered as she gestured him in. "Ours are based on our houses. I, for one--" she thumped her chest proudly, "--am a fellow badger."

If it had been last year that the two had met, Ruth might have given a different reaction to introducing her house. After all, she was torn between two that she could have fallen into, and to say she genuinely belonged in Hufflepuff without the flails along the way would be to be dishonest. The truth was that after all this time, she hadn't known what it was to be a Hufflepuff. According to what she had seen, most seemed to consider it to be the nicest house of all. Was that a sign of provocation? The other houses loomed far superior to the Puffs. Gryffindor the Brave, Slytherin the Sly, and Ravenclaw the Wise.

But now she was proud. Hufflepuff the loyal, Hufflepuff the hardworking. It fit Ruth well, she thought. After all, she would do anything to find out about her heritage. Anything.

The classroom they had stepped into was almost shrouded in darkness, if not for the peek of light filtering in through the navy curtains. Mindlessly, she waved at the dust, coughing slightly. "I know this seems like the least optimal classroom to be in right now, but trust me," Ruth reassured the other. "Just wait and see." She crossed the classroom with a determined step and made her way to the windows. Tugging the curtains open with a flourish, the two were blinded by the surge of light that spilled into the classroom, lighting up the front of the room to its entirety. Specks of dust floated down, glinting in the sunlight, till Ruth gripped the latches and pushed the windows open. Head out the window, Ruth treated herself to a breath of clean air before slipping back in, whirling around to face Hikari. "Well? What do you think?" She headed towards the closet situated near the teacher's desk. "I'm sure with some dusting, this place would make do. If you're wondering how I found out about this place," she threw him a look. "Don't ask."

She retrieved a feather duster and nodded to herself, forgetting her need to act less-Muggleborn-y. "If you don't like this classroom, we can go to Professor Kāne's. I'm sure he won't mind. I'm a very good student..."she trailed off.

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Japanese -English - Thoughts -

Houses instead of levels. Hikari had read about it in his father's books but had not given it much thought. It was an interesting idea, that. Columns instead of rows— not a ladder but something closer to branches on the same tree. It seemed fairer, somehow. At the very least, those who struggled with studying wouldn’t feel barred from approaching those who excelled.

A....badger? Hikari blinked at the girl, wondering for a moment how exactly a badger linked to her house. The answer came after a while; all the houses in the school were linked with an animal. Almost like a patron guardian. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Although it did leave one question lingering on his mind: why on earth was the animal of Ravenclaw wasn't a raven.

Hufflepuff. The books had not dwelled much on that house. Unlike the others of the quartet, which seemed to claim a specific set of people, with sharp lines and definitions, Hufflepuff was kinda like the caring friend in the background, providing a home to pretty much everyone else.

He supposed that was necessary, in a way.

His thoughts were cut off as Ruth led him into a classroom, and for a moment, Hikari wondered if he had been unable to get his point across to the girl. The room lay painted in black, as if night itself had slipped in and spread a cover across the walls.. However, Ruth clearly knew more than hikari gave her credit for— within seconds, the curtains had been thrown open and the room was drenched in golden light.

Right. That works.

"It's suitable enough." He responded to her question, running a finger down a table right next to the window. A thin line of dust clung to his skin. He wiped it on his handkerchief, feeling the disapproval rising in his throat. In a school run by magic, how hard could it be to keep a classroom clean? Whatever the case, it did not matter. Right now, his concern was with making atleast one table usable.

Turning around, he saw that Ruth had already at task, a feather duster clutched in her hand. Helpful. Hikari picked up another from the closet, and the two set about the quiet task together.

—Setting up—
𝖂ith all the hectic things that had been going on at school– at least, Ruth thought they were hectic – such as classes, errands, just magic in general, cleaning felt mundane, and peaceful. This was a surprise to Fairchild herself. Back at Bath, attending to chores such as sweeping was just as chaotic as everything else, with six people scrambling around the house doing different things with the same goal: keeping the house spick and span. Ruth felt the corners of her lips lift into a soft smile in remembrance of how the family members would all go about their duties, actively dodging each other, skipping over vacuum cord and soap buckets.

She twirled the feather duster around in her hand, dark feathers splotched with grey speckles of dust, before glancing up at Hikari, who seemed to remark on the room in Japanese. At least, that's what she assumed from his stare at a lone table flooded with sunlight.“Uh….huh,” Ruth trailed off, nodding as though she totally had a clue what he had just said. Darn, if only she had taken an interest in learning new languages. Then again, even if she did, Japanese was unlikely to be one of her top choices. In a nutshell, Ruth would have been stuck in the same situation even then, flailing in confusion as foreign words of silk came out of the other’s mouth.

Ruth went back to dusting in silence, working in tandem with the Mahoutokoro student. His presence was unusually comforting, albeit too quiet for her taste. It was hard getting used to the quiet when she used to do the same thing in a vividly contrasting way. As she began dusting at the curtains, she cast frequent looks over to Hikari. How curious. Was he just someone who didn’t talk? Or was he just someone who didn’t like talking? Perhaps he was hoping to avoid conversing with her? Maybe he despised how much she had chattered on a while ago and willed that if he kept quiet, she’d stop? Ruth dismissed the latter. She felt as though he knew that no matter how isolated the other was, the Hufflepuff would probably babble on.

Ah, the itch. “So,” Ruth blurted, “What do you usually sketch?” She wiped at the dust that had gotten on her sleeves and sneezed before muttering a quiet apology. “I was also hoping to know if you’d show me some, if you’ve got any. Only if you want to, of course,” she let out a depreciating laugh, “I’m not much of an artist, so I can’t exactly judge. But I’m sure yours are amazing.” She didn’t turn to face him, hoping to feign casualness as she continued dusting the remnants of the curtains on the left side of the classroom, then striding to the right.

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