Tarrell Phaar
Member
- Messages
- 11
- OOC First Name
- George
Hogwarts. It was all like a dream to Tarrell as he circled the park at a light trot, constantly turning his gaze from left to right and trying to witness the many wonders that the castle held. The forest, the lake, the towers, it all seemed like a medieval environment, as though the train had taken Tarrell many centuries back, to a time when knights in shining armors riding muscular destriers ruled the land and kept the evil doers at bay. The boy almost thought to see a king step out of the entrance hall, glowing in royal light with every step he took, an entourage of knights and watchful wizards behind him watching out for danger. Yes, wizards. Tarrell was a wizard, every single person in this castle was, some more than others, but the same nonetheless. The thought of a sort of alternate world existing in the midst of the one he had known for the better part of a decade was simply overwhelming. And this was only his first year, his first week here, and he was already stupefied by the splendour that was Hogwarts.
Most every teacher had implied how unpredictable and difficult to master magic was. It would pose a challenge few could aspire to overcome completely. And in most every lesson Tarrell had said to himself he would be one of those few. His ambition would not fail him. Or at least those were his present thoughts and hopes. As a person well acquainted with the wonders of history, he knew that the future was all but unsure. But he liked mysteries and enjoyed solving them, as history held many of those as well. As much as he didn't enjoy philosophy, he couldn't deny that he was referring to its principles all the time when trying to solve a historic conundrum, discovering even more questions from an answer he provided.
Tarrell stopped and looked towards the castle. It was almost time for dinner, as far as he could tell. He made his way to the entrance hall, stopping to look at the courtyard and at a particularly interesting looking broom on one of the porches when he felt he had bumped into something, or someone. He turned around to see a girl.
Most every teacher had implied how unpredictable and difficult to master magic was. It would pose a challenge few could aspire to overcome completely. And in most every lesson Tarrell had said to himself he would be one of those few. His ambition would not fail him. Or at least those were his present thoughts and hopes. As a person well acquainted with the wonders of history, he knew that the future was all but unsure. But he liked mysteries and enjoyed solving them, as history held many of those as well. As much as he didn't enjoy philosophy, he couldn't deny that he was referring to its principles all the time when trying to solve a historic conundrum, discovering even more questions from an answer he provided.
Tarrell stopped and looked towards the castle. It was almost time for dinner, as far as he could tell. He made his way to the entrance hall, stopping to look at the courtyard and at a particularly interesting looking broom on one of the porches when he felt he had bumped into something, or someone. He turned around to see a girl.