Tᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ. Sixth year Hufflepuff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I enjoy long walks by the Black Lake, my feline familiar Crow, and sweet maryjane. Photography aficionado and classic rock devotee. I rarely make sense and I've got secrets, just like everyone else.
Her eyes were fixed on the frail pages of the book that she cradled in two hands. She had a terrible habit of biting the inside of her cheek when she was concentrating, today it had reached the point where her cheek felt slightly numb and she had no doubt if she kept the habit up she would end up with her left cheek swollen, though she was really to absorbed in the words written on the page to care about anything else. She was always captivated by odd things, sometimes she would catch the title of a book or overhear the mention of a certain topic and unless she knew more she would be haunted by thoughts of it for weeks on end. This time she found herself drawn to the fragile pages of a history book that was exploring the witch trials from hundreds of years ago. It saddened her to read of people- people just like her- who suffered simply for being different. Though perhaps she’d suffered too, in the way of the current times.
Her focus swayed for a moment when the clocks began to chime and in the moments break she reached for the flask of hot chocolate by her side and took a sip. It was lukewarm but sweet and it brought a smile to her face when she settled the flask down again only to relapse back into reading the page that she held delicately between two fingers- just about ready to turn it over. She rarely read in the Clock Tower though she failed to see why, other than the scheduled updates on time there were little interruptions and she felt completely comfortable with her back pressed against stone, a book in hand, and a wonderful view of the grounds just out of her sight. In a moment of lax concentration she shifted her position, crossing one leg over the other and a second lesson she was up on her feet, something between a squeal and curse leaving her. It was only when she settled that she glanced down to her knocked over flask, half the content having spilled on the floor.
Hugging the book to her chest with one hand she whipped out her wand and with a mutter of a spell the liquid was flowing back into the flask which she bent down and closed tightly. Only then did she take note of the approaching footsteps and turning on her heels, a hand shooting up to scratch her neck nervously, she managed a slight smile, “I didn’t shout really loud did I?”
Tucker was confused. He was happy—beyond happy, euphoric—because of (and with) Maeko, and a part of him wanted to focus solely on that, relish in the feeling she gave him, but the other part, the larger part, knew that was selfish and unfair. Two things he vowed never to be again, at least not knowingly, and not to the degree he’d been. He needed to do… something. Anything, really—more than what he was doing right then, which was nothing. But… what could he do? What could Tucker Curshaw, a simple Hufflepuff boy with low marks in nearly all his classes, unremarkable magical skills, and near-crippling self-doubt do to help anyone? Take some photos and smoke excessive amounts of reefer? Yeah. Sure.
These thoughts plagued him as he climbed the clock tower, palms sweaty and heart racing. Time was important, as much as he hated to admit it, so where better to contemplate just how he was supposed to go about doing… whatever it was he decided on (that he’d yet to come up with), than inside largest clock he’d ever seen? Maybe his inner eye would appreciate the rhythmic tick-tock and reveal the master plan to him. Shaking his head at his own stupid sense of humour, Tucker climbed the last few stairs, only slightly short of breath. That breath was taken from him, however, when a startling shriek stole it from his lungs in a gasp. He whipped around, heart racing, needing desperately to find the source—and the cause.
Finding Meg Thomas, confection connoisseur and Maeko’s roommate, cleaning up some spilled something-or-other, however, calmed him instantly and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he approached. “Nae, nae—I mean, I think I may be deaf in this ear, but it wasn’t ‘really’ loud.” Tucker grinned down at her, shrugging one shoulder. “Actually… I’m glad to find people still have the ability tae get upset over something so… normal. Oddly comforting.” Letting out a small sigh, Tucker fished through his jacket’s pockets in search of a spliff. After retrieving it from his sad, old, slightly rusted cigarette case, he stuck it between his lips before glancing at Meg. “Uh… d’you mind?” He’d become so accustomed to spending time alone (or with Pax and Maeko, two people he knew partook) that he forgot that the action he defaulted to so regularly might putt off some people. “I can go… You were here first, ‘nd all.”
Better get my shit packed for Hogwarts the train leaves tomorrow
The Great Hall had been returned to its usual set-up: four long tables with benches running parallel, candles floating overhead, and students scattered around the room, drifting between tables and talking with their friends. To Keller, it was easy to forget that anything had happened in there just a night ago, but try as he might, he wasn’t afforded that luxury. The appearance of Lowell had set him on edge, and even though he didn’t have an appetite, he did push around a piece of toast and sip at a cup of tea, all while frowning so deeply he was sure his face would be permanently etched that way. While he was staring intently at his toast, someone slid onto the bench across from him and Keller glanced up, trying to look normal. “Did you have a good night?” he asked on reflex, his go-to topic with everyone since the Ball had ended and normality had returned, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear anything to the contrary.
Because Keller was not only a seventh year student, but Head Boy, it was hard to stumble upon him entirely alone; he was usually with a classmate, professor, or textbook. Preoccupied, essentially. Tucker hated to bother people in the first place, but as someone who knew the heavy, unwavering weight the Ravenclaw carried on his shoulders no matter the situation, there wasn’t an ideal time to approach him. That moment was as good as any. He was surprised by Keller’s greeting; surely there were other things he wanted to speak about? Well. Maybe want wasn’t the right word. Felt compelled to inquire about, perhaps? Giving a small shrug, Tucker smiled lightly. “S’okay. You?”