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Take it on the nose

Posted on Wednesday, 26th of December, 2012 @ 11:39am by Second Year (G) Robin Maxwell

Mission: September 1 A new Beginning
Location: Celebration


"Now, students, it's time to retire for the evening. Classes will still be held tomorrow and none of you will be allowed to shirk your duties, not even the Champions. So, everyone, scoot," Nostradamus said, waving the students out.

Maxwell had tried to stay rather incognito for the past two years, being of non-magical lineage, other than a great grandfather who was said to be the family Black Sheep and echoes of magical intent. Not one to take things by rumors Maxwell had found his Grandfather's connection to magic and wore part of that lineage around his neck. The leather necklace and leaf medallion were more ornamental it seemed.

Wondering if he were part of the chosen few who wield magic, he had tried hard the first years to do well, what came of it is a lot of reading and few friends. He is a 'Muggle' after all so his stories of family history are not worth hearing to most. He liked the instructors and especially his House of Gryffindor, the faculty took some interest in helping him more than the students. He was finally holding his own in class and this International Tournament had perked some interest; it was something he could at least follow more than Quidditch, but less than the Golf Open while in the European circles.

Maxwell did not know the 'champions' really; very little is known outside his trying to master his Wand; the old adage 'the wand picks the wizard' seemed to be to his hindrance as why his was so long while the average was much smaller.

Still watching the Cup had been fun; Maxwell liked seeing magical effects as he tried to think of the Cryptic formula that had been enacted to bring forth the results. Even a relic had some magical spell put upon it, the Hat that chose the house of a Firs Year was an amazing thing.

Closing his book he had to think more of the studies than the nine people whom would be bidding for the rewards. Maxwell is only a Third Year and thus still a bit of a bungler compared to most; well those rose around magic, he had ground to catch up upon. No Pure blood would look down upon Maxwell forever; this is what drove him around; where they had 'cheated' a bit with inheriting their magic Maxwell had come by it through Natural Selection; that is what he defended to those that irritated him by turning their noses up to him.

The teams were gone and the place a buzz with support of favorites, Maxwell did not favor any right now, he just wanted Hogwarts to be victorious. He liked the idea of his school winning; natural pride in where he studies; the place he is rapidly finding to be 'home' away from home. The students filed out and spoke among themselves or loud enough for boasts of 'their' champions to be heard.

The girl that had the draw in her voice, he tilted his head slightly after her speech; it was in accordance with how she saw herself, and a hint she was a Witch to watch. Where in contrast to the Southern Girls pride, the first name to come out of the cup was from a girl who said did not put her name in it. Maxwell had to really think hard upon this one as to who put names for others in a Tri-Cup? This is a wild card of sorts and the girl did not seem as though she wanted the honor put upon her?

The 'Pretty Boy' was a choice; maybe even more than just his looks and reputation, still from the way he carried himself he felt it was almost expected to be there? Corbin was one to give that Southern Girl a run for her money in the ego department. The way he gave the rallying gesgures showed he had been 'waiting' for his chance.

The fact a girl was hit in the nose caught a chuckle from Maxwell; almost as though a prank, being a Muggle Maxwell had a few pranks and he could actually feel that it was not polite and empathize with her plight. She was cute and should have been more respected as a chosen one?

Maxwell had to admit he had thoughts of the girl who had gotten soot on her nose; I fhe had to vote for a champion she is the one he most empathized and would follow her competition. Why that had caught him so deeply he did not know but then he just put it down as 'he had been there and no one deserved that embarrassment in public. Luckily hers was a little soot , his was a bruise and blood, same eeling when it happen Maxwell guessed.

He got up to make his way back, he had even managed to get somce 'tidbits' Tripod would like. Maxwell knew if he neglected to bring some turkey or other good bits he would never head the end of t from Tripod. For a creature that does not speak, he sure did get his point across.

Robin Maxwell
3rd year


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