- Messages
- 59
- OOC First Name
- Clairodactyl
- Wand
- Fir Wand 14 1/8" Essence of Sphinx Remains
At last, Rory had summoned the courage to visit the place which he was sure would intimidate him the most. He needed no reminder that he was not brave enough to ever consider a career as a Quidditch player. Sometimes, he thought, he was thinking a little too far ahead. At twelve years old, he had a long way to go before he even chose the subjects he wanted to take for his O.W.Ls, let alone be wondering what path he would take down the career direction. Thinking ahead was a trait that Rory often wished he could rid himself of, but at least he didn't have too many unsuspected surprises, like those who had no idea what subjects they wanted to take when the time came.
The young boy pushed open the large door of the trophy room with a slight struggle. He was sure he had goblin blood in his family somewhere. Why else would he be so small and skinny? If he didn't grow, like the rest of the boys would, he was going to look extremely silly. Perhaps he would even be mistaken for a first year when he was in fact in his last year of Hogwarts! Rory banished these thoughts from his mind, unwilling to be frightened when he was doing something he needed courage for. He chuckled slightly; it was quite clear why the sorting hat had not placed him in Gryffindor.
Although Rory quite liked the idea of being a professional Quidditch player, he strived to be more successful accademically. He was muggle born, but that did not stop him from wanting to soak up as much information as he could. The opposite had occured; he was so interested about this strange world his parents had nothing to do with that he could hardly keep his hands off all the knowlege there was to reveal about magic. Of course, he could never learn everything, but there was no harm in trying, even if some of the other students thought him odd.
As Rory took a step towards the trophies, his mouth opened in awe. The door swung shut with a bang that made him jump, but he did not turn around. Gold, silver, and metal cups, trophies which stood illuminated by torch light, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the flames in a beauty he could not find the words to describe. He released his grasp a little on the book he was holding when he realized he was clutching it so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Did everybody notice this room's true glory? Rory was quite ashamed with himself for not visiting before. He crept up to a glass cabnet as if not to disturb monsters which might leap out and attack him at any second. His open mouth started to leave prints on the glass until he snapped it shut, flushing even though there was nobody there to see.
The place was simply amazing. All these awards for heroic actions, for winning Quidditch, for people who had succeeded in the things they wanted to do. At that moment, Rory did not care about the people who thought he was strange for wanting to learn so much. He wanted this. Not to show off or be well known, but to achieve whatever he wanted, no matter what it was. He relaxed a little, stepping back and admiring a plate with several names inscripted into it, none of which he recognize, when his brain became aware of someone entering the room.
Oh, no, Rory whined inwardly, grasping his potions book tightly once more. He was unsure of where to go. The person entering surely was here to admire his or her own trophy! Would it look like he was trying to steal something? Rory lifted his chin, trying his best not to wear the guilty face he always seemed to adopt when he hadn't actually done anything wrong. He decided to wait until they'd come in, and leave without a word. Preferably, without even looking at whoever was entering.
The young boy pushed open the large door of the trophy room with a slight struggle. He was sure he had goblin blood in his family somewhere. Why else would he be so small and skinny? If he didn't grow, like the rest of the boys would, he was going to look extremely silly. Perhaps he would even be mistaken for a first year when he was in fact in his last year of Hogwarts! Rory banished these thoughts from his mind, unwilling to be frightened when he was doing something he needed courage for. He chuckled slightly; it was quite clear why the sorting hat had not placed him in Gryffindor.
Although Rory quite liked the idea of being a professional Quidditch player, he strived to be more successful accademically. He was muggle born, but that did not stop him from wanting to soak up as much information as he could. The opposite had occured; he was so interested about this strange world his parents had nothing to do with that he could hardly keep his hands off all the knowlege there was to reveal about magic. Of course, he could never learn everything, but there was no harm in trying, even if some of the other students thought him odd.
As Rory took a step towards the trophies, his mouth opened in awe. The door swung shut with a bang that made him jump, but he did not turn around. Gold, silver, and metal cups, trophies which stood illuminated by torch light, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the flames in a beauty he could not find the words to describe. He released his grasp a little on the book he was holding when he realized he was clutching it so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Did everybody notice this room's true glory? Rory was quite ashamed with himself for not visiting before. He crept up to a glass cabnet as if not to disturb monsters which might leap out and attack him at any second. His open mouth started to leave prints on the glass until he snapped it shut, flushing even though there was nobody there to see.
The place was simply amazing. All these awards for heroic actions, for winning Quidditch, for people who had succeeded in the things they wanted to do. At that moment, Rory did not care about the people who thought he was strange for wanting to learn so much. He wanted this. Not to show off or be well known, but to achieve whatever he wanted, no matter what it was. He relaxed a little, stepping back and admiring a plate with several names inscripted into it, none of which he recognize, when his brain became aware of someone entering the room.
Oh, no, Rory whined inwardly, grasping his potions book tightly once more. He was unsure of where to go. The person entering surely was here to admire his or her own trophy! Would it look like he was trying to steal something? Rory lifted his chin, trying his best not to wear the guilty face he always seemed to adopt when he hadn't actually done anything wrong. He decided to wait until they'd come in, and leave without a word. Preferably, without even looking at whoever was entering.