Connor
Better than being the lowest form of life
Wed Aug 1, 2018 10:51
129.2.180.4

All right, the potato was apparently supposed to do that, according to Marley. Although Marley didn’t seem as though she were particularly sure, as she scampered off to see Myffi and check, leaving Connor mercifully alone with his potato. And Marley’s potato too. If Connor trusted himself to pick Marley’s potato up off the coals and do something terrible to it (maybe turn grass into salt and pour a bunch of salt on it - or even better, he could turn grass into something spicy and pour it on the potato - yes Connor liked that idea) he would have done so, but he suspected he would hurt himself and not be able to return it before Marley came back. After the Cheez Whiz incident, Marley deserved everything that Connor might be able to do to her when it came to food. Everything and more. He would never forgive her for trying to kill him like that.

Still, despite the fact that he hated Marley with every fibre of his being, Connor realized quickly that sitting alone at a fire when there were people all around chatting and having a good time was actually pretty lonely. He wondered when Marley was coming back. Admittedly, she wasn’t exactly the best company and she argued with him much more than was necessary, but it was better than sitting alone while everyone else was busy with friends. Connor looked down and scuffed his shoe in the dirt, feeling out of place.

The fifth-year would have continued feeling appropriately sorry for himself if he hadn’t been rudely interrupted by a loud pop, a splattering sound, and a burning feeling on his face, which seconds later was accompanied by a burning sensation on his chest. Connor yelled loudly enough that a few heads turned, hands flying up to his face where he realized there was something with an absolutely terrible texture on his cheeks and nose. He quickly pushed the glop off his face, although the sensation of burned skin still lingered, and then realized there was still some on his chest. Swearing vividly, Connor brushed what he realized were bits of potato off his shirt, noting with great irritation that there were now stains on his shirt where the potato glop had landed.

Connor smelled something burning and looked over at the fire where he saw that the remainder of his potato had caught fire and was quietly flaming out atop the tatters of aluminium foil that had survived the freak accident. This was precisely why wizards had house-elves. The elves could deal with this ridiculous exploding food problem - why should he? It was such a stupid plan, to have people cook their own food on a giant bonfire. Myfanwy was not going to be winning any prizes for good ideas, Connor could tell that.

Then, the English boy realized something rather more unpleasant than feeling burning bits of potato on his face and chest. Even more unpleasant than having to be in public with a stained shirt. Even more unpleasant than having to cook his own food.

Marley had been right.

Expression souring, Connor sat back down on the bench harder than he strictly meant to, until he saw, across the fire, that Nolan was leaving Myfanwy and Leopald. Thank Merlin. Connor stood, uselessly brushed at his shirt again, then went to find Nolan. He was much better company than Marley was and besides, Connor didn’t want to be in a position where he might admit that Marley wasn’t just an obnoxious, unworldly girl with stalker tendencies. No, Connor was determined to make the night better and he was sure that casual companionship with Nolan would do the trick. Or at the very least, would be a drastic improvement on his current situation.

  • When she tuned back in, it was a nice change of pace to note that Connor actually wasn’t being all Muggle-phobic or Eurocentric Magick-centric or whatever (he was technically European so... more
    • Better than being the lowest form of life - Connor, Wed Aug 1 10:51
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