Leopold Harris
Then maybe you can help me out
Tue Feb 27, 2018 20:12

Leo had always thought the password into Lyra was unfair. Sometimes you simply were not in the mood to stand about performing for an inanimate object. Leo never bothered singing to the damn thing, not because he was a bad singer- in fact Leo liked to think he could belt out a good tune, but because he found the entire thing naustaing. The whole process had basically been set up to give a bunch of self-centred egotists another excuse to perform and it sickened Leo to take part in it on a daily basis. So he made a point of glumly whistling his way in each time, and repeatedly reminding anyone who made the mistake of approaching him how stupid it all was. He really thought it would be so much easier if they just did a fingerprint lock or something. As sad and meaningless as muggle life sometimes seemed to Leo now that magic was a cool and constant part of his life, he thought they had a few good ideas. Wizards would make something unnecessarily complicated simply to show off their wandwork. He’d never met so many smug people in one place, and Leo knew there was a lot more smugness lurking around than most people realised. In his opinion, the most humble person was probably secretly the smuggest because they got to pat themselves on the back each night for being a top-notch human being and never took a second to sit back and realise what a shitty person they really were. Yup. The world was full of selfish jerks and the dumb Lyra entrance was a constant reminder of it.

As Leo stomped into the common room, swinging his battered bookbag around, with no real consideration for the people standing in close proximity he thought about how he should write a letter to Tennent or I-want-to-be-your-friend ‘call me Toby’, the new head. Anonymously, of course, because the second they saw Leopold’s name attached they’d bin it or worse- call him in for a chat. On the list of things Leo hated, an admittedly lengthy list, awkward chats with adults were they pretend to be concerned for you but really just want you to go be someone else’s problem, was quite high up. So he would write an anonymous letter outlining the ridiculous password system, and maybe drop in a few complaints about the laziest professors, and put in a noise complaint about Roger Reynolds’ terrible cello playing- because really that would be a public service. It was about time people stopped letting him enter the theatre. The guy had to learn eventually, he’s just not that talented, time to make peace with that and move on to...well Reynolds would find his niche eventually.

For once thinking about Reynolds had a cheering effect on Leo. Knowing that he was about to climb the stairs and flop down on his own bed, in his own room with no Reynolds humming to himself in the corner ruining any chance Leo had of having a quiet moment to himself, softened his expression and he began to walk in a more relaxed manner until-

“Don’t go up.”

Leo stopped short of the staircase to the boys dorm only because the voice held a certain air of authority. Shoulders slumped, he looked around to find Holland standing by the other staircase, and raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What do you mean malfunctioning?” he said tiresomely. Leo knew that Holland was something of a conspiracy theorist and he respected them for it. Honestly, Leo would be more surprised if the government wasn't keeping aliens a secret and monitoring your every move. But to be a conspiracy theorist like Holland, you had to be more than a little paranoid and Leo didn’t know Holland all that well. It was possible that Holland often decided everyday objects like chairs, pillows and the occasional staircase, had been tampered with by some secret cult. Holland was still a head student though so Leo held short of telling them they needed to chill because neither scientology or the CIA were likely gain access to RMI. Instead, he ran his free hand through his hair and with a frown admitted, “I could really use my bed right about now. Don’t suppose there’s much you can do about that?”

  • I don’t see a problem - Holland Keene, Thu Feb 22 20:20
    Holland was doing Arithmancy homework in the Common Room when Buckley Bradford fell down the stairs. Or rather, Buckley didn’t fall down the stairs so much as fall through them, as the enchantment... more
    • Then maybe you can help me out - Leopold Harris, Tue Feb 27 20:12
      • That’s what Head Students are for! - Holland, Thu Mar 1 16:03
        Leo seemed grumpy, which wasn’t unusual for the underclassman. Holland had mostly interacted with him through Quidditch (in previous years) and the Drama Club (this year). He wasn’t the most... more
        • I'd rather not return the favour - Leo, Tue Mar 20 17:01
          “If the stairs are making Buckley disappear I vote for not fixing them,” Leo said, tossing his bookbag on a nearby chair before casting a glance around the common room to see if anyone else was... more
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