Mooncalf
Join Date: Aug 2009 Location: Boston
Posts: 6,676
Hogwarts RPG Name: Hazel Martin-Pryce First Year Diagon Alley Proprietor:
Scout MacIntyre Daily Prophet Reporter x4
| Granddaddy Ravenclaw | | Jermione Granger Quote:
Originally Posted by Oesed Tiberius enthusiasm was contagious enough to make Lachlan smile enough for one of his dimples to show. It was also flattering because it meant the boy had enjoyed his classes back in Beauxbatons; it was an indication, really, that he hadn't been too terrible.
Or if he had, perhaps it'd been the fun sort of terrible? Was there even such a thing? "Why don't you take a seat, Mister Pryce?" And why were the other two still standing up? Lachlan shot the hammock that hovered near the middle of the hut a quick look, and vanished it with a flick of his wand. "Would you like anything to drink? Butterbeer? Pumpkin juice?" Had he had breakfast already?
Had any of the kids? Lachlan shot them all curious glances, and used his wand to summon a bottle of butterbeer and a glass for Michael. "Well, as long as you're sure, Mister White." Sometimes he wondered if affluent kids had any sense of value when it to gold. "It was very thoughtful. Thank you." There was absolutely no need for the gloves to be left hanging around so Lachlan vanished those, too, sending them to his room.
Michael White seemed to have no mouth filter, and Lachlan gladly let the boy rant to his heart's (or mouth's?) desire while he took care of picking up the magazines strewn on the carpet. "I'm glad you feel so strongly about your owl, Michael. Most people don't." A lot of people didn't think of owls, actually, as something other than a means of communication. Lachlan snapped his fingers at Stanley, and the Jarvey grumbled something that would have made MacFusty's mother blush.
Lovely. While Stanley scurried out of the hut by sliding out through the slightly opened window, Lachlan busied himself with placing the magazines on the coffee table. "The very same, Treyen. You're interested in dragons, I take?" He had a deathwish, then? Hufflepuff Misfit. "Please forgive Stanley's rudeness. He doesn't really like visitors. Or anyone, really.
...Were they still standing up? "Sit down, all of you, or this will get awkward, and awkward is bad." Tiberius smiled and took a seat, sliding over to make room for Treyen. "Pumpkin juice, please," he said, softly. Butterbeer was still, well. He had to work up to it. "Thank you."
He listened casually to the others chatted with MacFusty, eying the gifted gloves a tad enviously.
His eyes bugged, slightly, when the jarvey went a bit foul and scurried out the window. He'd forgotten how rude they could be, exiled to Muggle Londo as he was during the summers. "Everyone really missed you when you left," Tiberius said simply, hands in his lap. Sure, he hadn't taken a survey, but he had missed the man, so that was enough. "It's good to have a familiar professor, here."
Sitting back and getting a little more comfortable, he eyed the Hufflepuffs, wary of making a request with an audience. "The current Magizoology professor at Beauxbatons and I were speaking last year about some plans for my studies this year, and I was wondering if I might speak with you about it?" Was that vague enough?
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Has anyone ever sung you a lullaby?
You can fly above the rain clouds
Close your eyes Let the melody carry you
Leave all your fears behind You can float across a rainbow sky
to once upon a time |