Passing It On

[Tristan Collins]

Tristan Collins had achieved something this year, something he had been hoping for. The prefect's badge on his chest was the proof. He had known he was the best choice of course, but he hadn't been confident Professor Pratt agreed. He'd gotten into a few arguments over the years, but nothing that had been his fault. And he had worked hard. Way harder than both Austin and Vivian. So in his opinion, he really did deserve this badge. He was proud of it, and not about to let anyone forget about his position.

During the previous holidays, he had purchased a book to help him achieve this. Preferred Preface for Perfect Prefects had been taking up space on his nightstand for a while now, as he had read it front to back. But now that he had achieved his goal, he no longer needed it. He didn't think he needed any help being a prefect. He was quite confident he would be able to do the job well on his own. At first, he had considered selling the book. Maybe by putting up a note on one of the bulletin boards to offer it. But then he realized how that would look: kind of sad. Like he needed the money. In truth, he could use it, but nobody needed to know that. So in the end, he had decided to give the book to someone that might need it. It was the sort of thing a prefect would do, he thought. Placing the book on a table in the student lounge, he put a piece of parchment on top on which he wrote 'free to take'. Then he stepped back and smiled, admiring his handiwork. He straightened the prefect's badgeon his robes. He had achieved the first step up the ladder, maybe someone else could too now.

Out of Character:

If anyone rps taking the book, I'll ask an admin to put it in your inventory

 

[Arvel Ayers]

Arvel had had the best and worst holiday of his life. Writing letters to Analei had certainly broken up the monotony of watching birds for six weeks, but waiting for each reply had been completely agonising. His parents were pleased - of course, they had no idea that his sudden interest in gazing up at the sky had nothing to do with helping them study birds. Only one kind of bird interested Arvel, and that was his owl.

Now that the new term had begun, and Arvel didn't need to write letters any more, he'd instead taken to studying. He didn't have very many books at home (his bedroom wasn't large enough to accommodate them), and was worried he might fall behind if he didn't make an effort to catch up. Last year, he hadn't cared, and his grades had clearly reflected it. Whether his new-found enthusiasm would last, he couldn't tell, but rather than dwell on this he picked up two books from the library and took them to the student lounge to get on with some work. Sitting at one of the quietest tables, Arvel glanced to his right, where a prefect stood adjusting his badge. The book in front of him had a hand-written note upon it. A tiny, almost inaudible snort escaped Arvel's nose. How very generous. And humble. Shaking his head, Arvel opened his book and began to read.

 

[Tristan Collins]

Tristan was about to turn and leave the book there, though possibly sit nearby so he could see if anyone actually took it, when he heard someone snort nearby. With a frown, he turned his head to the younger boy that was reading a book. Though he was fairly sure that hadn't been what he had been snorting about. "Funny book, is it?" He asked coldly, suddenly feeling embarrassed and defensive. "Or was there something else you were laughing at?"

 

[Arvel Ayers]

Arvel jumped, realising too little too late that his snort hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought. He fingered the corner of his page nervously, grappling for something he could say that would diffuse the situation. But he was an awful liar, and even worse at thinking on his feet, and after several seconds all he could think to do was tell the truth. "No, it's a History textbook," he said, not meaning to sound patronising, but managing to anyway. Having a monotone voice could be a curse. He gave a tiny, nervous shrug, curling in on himself and pretending to start reading again. "It's nothing."

 

[Tristan Collins]

Tristan’s gaze was cold as he looked at the boy. He was young, second or first year. That meant part of Tristan thought this wasn’t worth his time and effort. But it also meant he was even more insulted by the boy apparently laughing at him. Being mocked by a twelve year old kid was somewhat more insulting than if it was someone his own age, and he stepped closer casually. “Right. Maybe you should read the book I just left, it might teach you some manners.” He said, resting one hand on the boy’s chair. “Unless you actually think I’m stupid enough not to see when someone is laughing at me.”

 

[Arvel Ayers]

Though his eyes were moving around on the page, Arvel was really looking at Tristan in his peripheral vision, and wondering why he hadn't left yet. Arvel didn't want any trouble. He'd found the note pretty amusing, but he had nothing against the prefect. He didn't even know him! Curling even further in on himself, Arvel gripped the edge of his book and gave another meek shrug. He willed Tristan to go away, to leave him be, to not press this and make him even more uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, still without looking up. "I didn't mean to laugh."

 

[Tristan Collins]

Tristan noticed how the boy curled in on himself, and suddenly realized what he was doing. This kid was twelve, at most. While he shouldn't have been laughing, Tristan really had nothing to gain from scaring him. Letting go of the chair, he stepped back. He felt almost embarrassed about his actions, though really... he had just said a few things. It wasn't like he had hexed the kid. "Alright." He said, glancing away to see if anyone had noticed this. "Good luck with your history book, then." He said before walking away. He really didn't need to spend more time on this kid.