Auld Lang Syne

[Graeme Fergusson]

For Christmas, the Scottish boy was more than ready. He wasn't a huge fan of summer, so knowing that he would be boarding a plane to travel very far in the opposite direction from New Zealand, made him smile. He was just ready to see his ma, and see his home. He wanted to sit around their poor excuse for a tree, and the fire. He wanted to spend New Years at the street party in Portree where a lone piper would play the national anthem, before the fire works, and then auld lang syne during. He missed the common accents of those around him. He missed home, and he was ready to go back. Everything was packed, and he was ready to go, he just had a few days before he could actually go. Which was the more depressing part about it. Though this day, this event was going to be a good one. He wondered what sort of things made a New Zealand christmas celebration good, he wasn't too sure. He was sort of hoping their might be a ceilidh of some sort, but he knew that was unlikely. He was just fairly certain that of all his classmates, he'd been the only in a kilt. He was a Scot, and on special occasions, and Scotland games, that was appropriate attire that should be worn. He didn't have the full kilt outfit, all he did have was the kilt itself, a white loose fitting shirt that usual went with a kilt, and that was it. His mother hadn't thought it right to pack the entire thing, a kilt was surprisingly heavy.

Once he was all ready to go, the young Scot, double check. For this he was a true Scotsman, but that was okay with him. Not enough of these people would know the difference, or know what the term a true scotsman probably even meant. He walked out his dorm, throwing on a blazer on top, at least until he got too warm, heading straight to the great hall. His kilt was his family colours, dark blues and greens. A good colour, he couldn't imagine having the family colours of Buchanan or something. With yellow colours. Though it would go with his house, his Hogwarts house. The Great Hall itself was something else. Not what the teen had expected. He hadn't held high hopes for what this night would bring. He had memories of his primary school dances. Where most if not all the boys wore kilts, and girls always had some form of tartan. This was stunning, in a much grander scale, not what he was used to, not at all. His home town, was a few houses a few metres away from each other. His school had sheep next to it. This was so different from what he was used it. And it was as expected warm. He pulled off his blazer and he made his way inside the Great Hall. His eyes not quite able to take in everything that surrounded him. "Wow" He muttered under his breath. This was pretty incredible.
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[Nicoli Stien]

"Wow is right",Nicoli Stien said as he stood next to Graeme as he stood in the awe before the decorations that the great hall had undergone. Nico did not know the boy personally but he had seen the hufflepuff in several of his classes this term. In theory Slytherin's rarely got on well with Hufflepuffs, it of course was not because of any deep rooted rivalry but rather they simply had little in common. Ravenclaws and Slytherin tended to get on well with each other just like hufflepuffs tended to get on well with Gryffindors. Nico was somewhat beyond the petty squabbles of inter house politics so long as the people he associated with himself were of the same mind which was one that was fond of academics and the pursuit of knowledge. Graeme seemed smart enough to join his inner circle of friends as his current circle encompassed a whooping zero, Nico had found it hard to open up to others and therefore had failed miserably at making any friends this semester. He did happen to anger a few people which meant he most likely had a few unexpected enemies already but that was the risk he had to take in his pursuit of become the future of Hogwarts.

Once the shock of the Yule ball had worn off, Nico turned to face his fellow first year and take in the sight of the boy. A kilt waas the first thing that he noticed which caused him to knit his brows a bit before looking the rest of the boy over. Good looking and well adjusted Graeme honored his heritage by wearing a rather impressive kilt to the party. Nico had some distant Scottis family on his mothers side though he never met any of them, so he was some what aware of their customs and traditions for the holidays. When the annual flood of Christmas cards came flooding in he took note of the differences among his complex family line and asked questions when he did not understand. It was his father who was more knowledgeable about global cultures then his mother though she was knowledgeable enough to make safe assumptions from time to time. Nico of course was dressed in a simple suit and tie that he wore for special occasions such as this, though he found the whole act of dressing up in uncomfortable clothes to spend a large sum of time in physical activity rather silly. He would have much rathered to wear his simple school robes but as that would most likely offend some in his house he decided to go along with his peers and dress to his fullest. His hair of course was unruly as ever even after his failed attempts at taming it, he had even tried magic to no avail.

"The name is Nicoli Stien, I believe we had History of Magic as well as flying together this term. You may call me Nico if you would prefer, and if you do not mind me saying what a nice kilt you are wearing tonight. Family Colors? The tartan is well done as well, I would guess handmade but I am not fashion savvy enough to tell in this light.", Nico said as his tone lingered between interest and curiosity. He was always trying to learn more and more no matter the setting going as far as attempting to understand such trivial things as speech patterns and dialects. His latest obsession had been wand craftsmanship and the relation share between wand and wizard. It was a fascinating subject once one understood the schools of thought.Maybe Graeme would allow him to look over his wand later if the party began to grow stagnant of course Graeme would have to actually have an interest in getting to know the strange Slytherin stand before him before even contemplating such an odd request. How he had detested social gatherings but as a future headmaster in seemed that he would need to get over such silly things and learn to mingle like all those before him. Grabbing a flute of juice from a nearby tray he smiled before looking once more at the decorations as he prepared an exit strategy if the boy decided to reject his kindness as strangeness.​

 

[Graeme Fergusson]

Within seconds the young Scot became aware of someone standing beside him. He smiled to himself, and to the other boy, whom he sort of knew. Mostly in passing, and not entirely in person. He gave the boy a warm smile, while also glancing over what the boy was wearing, he felt like the odd one out, that much was for sure, but he knew that most people who were not Scottish would probably never wear it, unless they were pretending to be William Wallace, and William Wallace wearing a kilt was actually unlikely, but, it didn't matter. He was proud of his heritage, of his family, and the clan that his name meant he belonged to. He didn't really understand when people thought it strange and stupid. Any person he knew back home, with a scottish surname, or even some times Irish, could find out if they belonged to a clan, and could therefore find the tartan that went with it. He thought it odd for people in New Zealand, to not have this sort of tradition. Scotland, he realised was a fairly different place from New Zealand. He noticed that the other boy, Nicoli was wearing much more traditional smart clothing to this event, and well, Graeme wasn't bothered by it. He had hoped that he might spot a couple of other kilts, but he was perfectly content with being the only one, after all, it was his heritage, and he doubted that it was others in this hall. While he'd met a couple of scots, none were guys, so he doubted they would wear tartan. He looked at the other guy, with a bright smile, just as the boy introduced himself to Graeme. Graeme just nodded along as he spoke, noting the nickname Nico, and the fact he managed to pick up on the colours. Well, the tartan.

"Nice tae meet you, Nico, and thanks." He said, extending his hand to the boy for a handshake, "Graeme Fergusson, and I've no got a nickname, so Graeme's just fine." He paused looking down at his kilt and nodding once more. The family colours, "Aye, family colours. But, tae be honest, it's mare the clan colours. So, Clan Fergusson." He gave a small shrug, it didn't really matter, it was both the family colours, and the clan colours. What did most people actually care about it. He wasn't bothered by the difference, just helped if people sometimes knew about it, he figured. "It wis handmade, a friend of ma ma back home makes them fae a living. This one's a bit big fae me, but, I'll hopefully grow intae it, and have nae need fae another one." He smiled at the boy. He figured that with the kilt and the accent the boy, Nico would've figured out where he was from. "Where aboots you fae?" He asked. Despite having spent close to the last six months in New Zealand, the young boy's accent hadn't faded, or gone away. It was the exact same. He spoke a little bit slower, a little bit more clearly, but his accent would probably never completely fade. That much was for certain.
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[Nicoli Stien]

"I come from Russia, St. Petersberg to be more precise.", Nico said as he crossed his hands behind his back and leaned back slightly on his heels. The boys accent was hard to ignore while his was near impossible to pick up as he grew up in a primarily English speaking home. He could of course speak Russian but as he did not often meet anyone from his home country he had been without the need of the skill for sometime. His mother side of the family was from Russia while his father side was from Germany though he saw more of his mother side of the family than that of his father side. His mother side of the family had more invested in his future than that of the Stien side whose dark past was something to be weary of as he furthered his education dream of becoming headmaster. His family was complex and to understand it at all would be a feat itself but whose family these days did not have a few skeletons in its closet?

"How are you liking it here? I would imagine that a child of your pedigree would rather attend Hogwarts Scotland then Hogwarts New Zealand being as it would be closer to home. I of course would probably been better suited at Durmstrang so I guess I can not judge you for choosing this school over that one.There is something truly magical about New Zealand, A fresh start where anyone could achieve greatness.", Nico inquired and added in a tone that went beyond his years. His articulate nature was off putting to most that knew him but he had to grow up faster than most children especially in his part of the world. How he loathed his past and but how he could dream for a better and brighter future. Sipping his drink he decided that now that he was engaged in a conversation it would be best to have a seat and relax a bit as he waited for the response to his question.

 

[Graeme Fergusson]

Graeme had found that Hogwarts was a hot bed of foreign students, him being one of them. He was surprised to hear that Nico was from Russia. In his experience of Russian tourists who passed his old home, they had much stronger accents. But then again, Graeme knew that not all people had to sound like where they were from. He was one of the people who strictly speaking didn't sound like he was from Skye, much more from Glasgow, but with a Glaswegian mother, and grandparents he wasn't exactly given much choice in terms of his accent. Happily however, he smiled at the other boy. It was nice to meet someone his age, and find it easy to talk to. And Graeme did appreciate the boy's comment about his outfit. Graeme hadn't been sure how it would be received by those who didn't know what it was, or what it meant. He would punch anyone who attempted to call it a skirt. Because it wasn't that. Well, it was, but to him, to call it a skirt was to disrespect the Kilt. Graeme had nothing against guys wearing skirts, but a kilt was not a skirt. For a brief moment Graeme's attention drifted away from this person in front of him.

The boy spoke, and well, it wasn't exactly what Graeme was used to . he wasn't exactly the kind of person who thought too much about grammar, or the right way to say things. As long as people understood him, he was happy. Nico had an odd way of speaking. Overly polite, just not childlike. Graeme looked at him curiously, but ignored it. Instead letting the other guy finish what he was saying. Graeme had wanted to go to the Hogwarts in Scotland, but his mother had sent him to here. Half way around the globe to live with his ageing grandparents who couldn't half the time remember who he was. He knew about the other magical schools around the world in passing, just not well. "I like it. It's no Scotland, but it'll do." He nodded, "Aye, Hogwarts in Scotland is aboot an hour and a half away fae where I stay. But ma ma decided I'd do better oot here. A bit of a change. I miss ma home." He said with a small shrug as much as he preferred his home, he would never go against his mother. "How are you liking it? Fairly different fae Russia I imagine."
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