Reading

[Arthur Quinn]

Desperate for a book to read, Arthur had marched to the library bright and early, mind filled with questions and concepts he wanted to research and explore. Unfortunately, the library was already busy and Arthur had had to settle with extracting one book and leaving to find some other place to read. It was a pleasant day, so Arthur had ventured outside and, after a little exploration, had discovered the small garden nestled to one side of the giant lawns. Sat on one of the old stone benches, he tenderly opened the book, turning to the first page as he drew in a deep breath of that musty smell that old books seemed to ooze. How could anyone swap this for a kindle? There was a pleasure in holding the book in his arms and slowly devouring it that couldn't be found in a cold, heartless screen. His fingers curled around the edge of the page as he read one deliciously interesting paragraph, lowering his head until his nose was practically scraping the paper. It was fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

Arthur had spent his entire life learning about the world, unaware that he was neglecting half of it. Now, suddenly, there were entire new branches to integrate into his knowledge, new concepts and an entire new system. In fact, Arthur thought, frowning with disappointment, if there was one complaint, it was the lack of books investigating the causes of magic. Arthur had initially gone to the library desperate for a text that integrated magic with science but had found that wizards neglected the so called muggle world as much as their muggle cousins neglected theirs. No integration, no attempt at reconciliation at all. Two seperate worlds. Arthur sighed, turning the page again. The book he was currently reading was a history text detailing various events that had influenced the magical world. Arthur wanted to put his learning in context and 'A History of Magic' seemed like the perfect place to start.

 

[Artemis Tuuri]

For all intent and purposes, Artemis had been trying to remain hidden amongst the flowers of the Hogwarts garden. Anyone could disappear beneath the umbrella-sized blooms if they tried very hard and stayed flat on their stomachs, but Art had an easier time of it since her own head generally came to people's stomachs anyway. People liked to ask her (some with more than an appropriate amount of amusement) how tall she was and she always replied without a hint of jest, 'Three and a half feet, going on four.' She added the last bit mostly out of personal hope. She was seventeen now and she hadn't grown more than a centimeter since third year. A part-goblin she was and a part-goblin she'd stay. Sometimes she was saddened by the fact that none of her other siblings hadn't displayed more goblinesque genetics than pointed ears, but then only she and Deirdre, her eldest sister, had become prefects (and they were the shortest of the six children). Either height counted for nothing or it counted for everything: Artemis couldn't decided which.

Either way, her tiny hands and feet were marvelous for stealth when they needed to be. Through the waving buttercups, Art spied a dark-haired figure and, thinking it was her sweetheart Landon, she began a cat's stalk up to the figure's back. By the time the Ravenclaw prefect deigned to notice how much shorter this foreign boy was compared to Landon, it was too late. Art leapt before looking and crumpled halfway. Force of movement didn't allow for sudden mid-air changes of direction. With a crunch of gravel and a hearty "Yooowch!" Artemis Blackmoore-Yearling rolled underneath the stone bench that Arthur was sitting at and skidded to a stop at his feet. In her defense, it was Landon's usual seat. "Whatchu readin'?" she inquired groggily from her upside-down position.​

 

[Arthur Quinn]

Arthur was oblivious to Artemis's antics, happily reading on even as she attempted to ambush him. He barely registered her yelp of pain, turning a page as she slipped under the bench. He didn't even notice her hit his foot. He did, however, register the question, the scholar in him unable to ignore a request for information. “A history of Magic” Arthur replied absent mindedly, nose still buried within the pages of his book, “I've just began to read about the Goblin revolts and it's really rather interesting. I wonder how...” Arthur trailed off, looking up to find himself talking to thin air. Closing his book, he looked around for the source of the noise with a confused frown. He had definitely heard a question. One of the many ghosts perhaps? The wind playing pranks on his mind? His sanity slowly slipping away? He felt his foot catch against something and he looked down at the ground, expecting to see a ball or a strange creature.

Arthur jumped out of his skin when he saw Artemis lying there, promptly dropping the book onto the ground with a painful thud. “Oh. Hello” said Arthur faintly, heart pounding in his chest, “Sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you alright?” Arthur stood up, offering a hand to help Artemis to her feet. With horror, he realised that his book was lying on the ground and he bent down to pick it back up. He frowned unhappily at the newly bent corner, attempting to smooth it out with his fingers then opened the book, flicking back through to find and mark his place. Numerous questions shot through his mind. Why was she under his bench? What house was she? Why was she so short? “Um...Sorry to bother you” Arthur asked politely, settling for an answer to the matter at hand, “but why were you under my bench?”

 

[Artemis Tuuri]

Watching Arthur as he replied absently to her question, Artemis tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy and rubbed the back of her head. She did not move from her position at his feet but simply looked at the younger boy with faint amusement. What was he going on about goblin revolts for? Art was part goblin herself and even she found it boring as all hell. Nothing but A History of Magic could make fire, blood and anarchy sound as exciting as an old man hobbling down the street with a walking stick. She supposed that one had to imagine yourself to be there instead of reading it from a perfectly analytical perspective. Suddenly the boy jumped as it noticing for the first time that she was there and she jumped instinctively with him.
"Hallo," she replied, taking the proffered hand. "Aye, I'm fine." She'd only spoken but a few words to Arthur but it was already apparent just how thick her English accent was. Many people mistook her for a Scotswoman.

Art took a seat on the bench opposite him and swung her legs with the kind of restless energy that children had when forced to sit down and be quiet. Her feet were almost a foot off the ground. Now that she was not covered in pebbles and half upside down, her long ears stood straight above her head and twitched with the same energy, like two pointed satellites listening for interesting things to notice. Despite that, all of her hazel-eyed attention was focused on Arthur in the same polite attentiveness. "Er..." He had a point. The goblin girl went from rosy-pink to something akin to the setting sun. "Thought 'ye were someone else," she mumbled. "Anyway!" dodged Artemis brightly, "What are 'ye doing here all alone? Well, not that ye're alone anymore I daresay, but being by oneself can be a bit borin'. 'Ye a first year, then?". She spoke very fast.​

 

[Arthur Quinn]

Out of Character:

I love Artemis' Characterisation~

Arthur brushed the bench before sitting back down, watching as Artemis sat down immediately began to fidget. He almost wanted to point out that she didn't have to stay and talk to him. He wouldn't mind if she left. “I see” Arthur replied solemnly, adding with a sly smile, “Do you often greet your friends by hiding under a bench?” He hid a laugh behind his book, watching as her face turned bright red. Even to an 11 year old, it was blatantly obvious. She liked this unknown person. If he were a bit bolder and she was more familiar, he might have teased her more about it. Instead, with a smile, Arthur opened his book once more, preparing to dive back into a highly detailed account of one of the cases. He should have realised that Artemis would not sit in silence, even if embarrassed. “The library was too full” Arthur explained quietly, glancing sadly back up at the castle, “And I wanted to find a quiet place to read. I didn't expect anyone to be here because it's quite cold outside.” Her speech was fast and a little hard to follow, but Arthur just about understood. Her odd accent certainly wasn't helping and Arthur couldn't place it. He'd never had much interest in learning regional dialects. Arthur glanced up at Artemis from his book, reluctantly abandoning the passage he was reading. “I don't think being alone is boring” said Arthur honestly, smiling, “It's rather pleasant really, especially when reading.”

“Yes, I'm a first year. Ravenclaw” suppled Arthur, “My name is Arthur Quinn. Nice to meet you. And you are?” Politely, he offered a hand to shake. He'd been taught from a young age that it was basic manners when introducing yourself. “Are you a first year as well?” Arthur added curiously, looking her up and down. Judging from her height , she must be one of the younger years. She was at least a foot shorter than him, after all. Actually, wasn't that too short, even for a first year? He eyed the long ears protruding from her head. And what were they? Ears, obviously, but prosthetic? Cosmetic? Real? The movement suggested so. Perhaps she was an elf. Or maybe a dwarf. That would explain her small stature. Arthur desperately wanted to ask, but it would be too rude to inquire about her height. That left the other abnormal feature. “I hope you don't mind me asking” Arthur asked hesitantly, biting his lip, “But are they prosthetic? Your ears, I mean.”

 

[Artemis Tuuri]

Out of Character:

Aw, thanks. I couldn't help but want to rp with Arthur because I liked him from the moment I read his first post.

Artemis shook her head at Arthur, aggrieved. Of course she didn't usually attempt to tackle random strangers by way of greeting. This first year was smart. He obviously had some inkling of who the person she'd mistaken him for was to her. She was still rather sensitive towards the subject since they'd only just begun to date but she tried furiously to quell the extending blush on her cherubic cheeks. There was no way she was going to let a first year make her feel embarrassed about almost tackle-hugging him. She did understand about his wanting to get away from the library. It was supposed to be a quiet place but it was always filled with giggling students attempting to 'study' or rather, make out in between the piles of books. With the masses of body heat, it was oppressively stifling and Artemis hated it. Her tiny body overheated quickly and she found that she felt a lot better if she made her own warmth running around.
"Th' cold don't bother me none," she commented. "Nor does being alone. But I can tell already that y'ain't like most people who always need someone around."

"Artemis Beatrice Blackmoore-Yearling." Art supplied when the boy asked her name. She rather liked the name Arthur and he endeared himself to her immediately. The feeling faded slightly when he asked whether or not she was a first year. She certainly was not a first year, but her sense of fairness pointed out that a lot of new students mistook her for someone younger simply because of her height. Nevertheless, she pursed her lips and told him "Seventh Year. I'm surprise y'didn't remember me from the Start of Year Feast. I'm a Ravenclaw house Prefect." She was about to tone down her indignation when Arthur asked her a very strange question. "Pros ... prowhatics?". Art came from the most magical family imaginable. "What the bloomin' heck is that?". She probably would have been more polite if she wasn't so intensely curious.​

 

[Arthur Quinn]

Arthur smiled. Artemis. Goddess of the hunt, Arthur's mind supplied. A nice name. Arthur had always liked the Greek pantheon, naming his own cat after the goddess of wisdom. Arthur felt that if there were any deities in existence, it made sense that they would be a squabbling group each with their own separate duties. “I'm sorry, you're right, I should have recognised you” Arthur apologised politely, biting his lip. How embarrassing. Arthur normally made a point to memorise the members of authority, but then, he had been distracted by other things during the ceremony. Ghosts for one thing. Materialising food for another. He had yet to fully research the presence of ghosts at Hogwarts, but had discovered that food was produced in the Hogwart kitchens and transferred to the main hall using a magical teleportation system. Apparently, food was something that magic could not produce from thin air.

“Prosthetics?” Arthur repeated, surprised she didn't recognise the term. Perhaps she was born into a magical family. If so, it certainly confirmed his earlier concern. There really was no integration between the muggle and wizarding world. Muggle technology stayed in the muggle world and wizarding technology stayed in theirs. But why? Surely there were more advantages to integration than seperation. Arthur frowned, getting to his feet abruptly. Perhaps there was more information in the library. Oh but...He glanced back at Artemis and reluctantly sat back down with a wry smile. “A prosthetic is an artificial object designed to replace a missing body part” explained Arthur after a pause, stroking his fingers across the top of the textbook, “A common example is that of the prosthetic leg. It was developed to replace a missing or dysfunctional leg in an attempt to restore movement. I mentioned prosthetics because you can get prosthetic ears that attach onto existing ears to give the appearance of...”

He trailed off, flushing sightly. If she didn't know what prosthetics were, he could probably assume that her ears were in fact real. There was no need to be rude and insist on suggesting they were attachments. “If they don't have prosthetics, how do wizards restore missing limbs?” Arthur asked, curiously, . Magic would be the answer, of course. Would they use magic to regrow the limb? Perhaps summon one from mid air?

 

[Artemis Tuuri]

Artemis softened a little at the boy's chagrin. She should have known that the first year would have been too enraptured with all the fascinating displays of magic to notice a tiny prefect girl like Art, although many first years considered her part of the attraction. Every year the whispers followed her as she sat down to welcome them, though she did not begrudge them that. Only the rude ones got a fiery glare and a good telling off. Arthur repeated the strange and interesting word and proceeded to explain its meaning in detail. Riveted, Artemis unconsciously ceased her fidgeting and closed her minuscule hands together to listen. Several images came to mind when she thought of these 'prosthetics'. The famous Auror Mad-Eye Moody for one, though he was long before her time. She'd always wondered how he'd managed to lose his leg. Very few wizards had to suffer the permanent misfortune, for reasons she was about to explain to Arthur.
"There are a few ways, I suppose." she told him conversationally. "It always depends on th' manner in which th' limb detaches itself." For her incredibly thick accent and high voice, Art always had a manner-of-fact way of speaking that made one want to listen. "If it's by curse, ye'll be lucky tae see another bit 'o real flesh below the joint. They tend tae keep on eatin' it up till 'ye remove it, and then the stump is still cursed so it cannae be regrown." Artemis lifted her entire arm in order to scratch the tip of her right ear.
"So I suppose that's when a wizard has a fake 'un. I guess 'ye can say they're a 'wizard with a pros-the-tic-" she struggled around the word, "-limb,' but I just tend tae call 'em Stumpies. Behind their back." She made a fish face whilst trying not to giggle. "Anywho, they got potions for regrowin' bones. Like Skele-Gro. Tastes like Satan's stool sample though, so I've 'eard."
The goblin girl paused and abruptly changed tracks. "So if'n 'ye thinkin' these not be real, 'ye got another think comin'. I'm a part goblin on me great-grandmutha's side. A bit of a throw-back, 'ye might say." said Art, batting a daffodil with her red-slippered toe.​