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hh_mirror2009-08-20 12:59 pm
toujours-sirius.livejournal.com) wrote in hh_mirror2009-08-20 12:59 pm
De-hiatusing post and open RP!
It may or may not have been coincidental, but at almost the exact same time, eight figures walked through the front door of Hogwarts and into the Entrance Hall. Well, seven walked. The eighth blibbled.
The godfather, the reluctant hero, and the marshmallow
The figure of Sirius Black cast a tall, lean shadow across the Entrance Hall. One of the shadow's hands rested on the shadow shoulder of a somewhat shorter subject, whose gangly shape was topped with what appeared to be a bird's nest, or perhaps just a head of extremely messy hair. The other hand of the taller shadow rested on a much less defined form. Two short, golf-club-shaped legs could be clearly discerned, but above that, it was unclear where torso gave way to head; the only clue was the outline of a bowler hat on top of the entire structure, and it was firmly on the bowler hat that the hand of Sirius Black's shadow rested. Even more bizarre was the fact that the alignment of the shadow feet of this strange creature gave the distinct impression that it was hovering a couple of feet off the floor as it moved forward with the other two members of the trio.
"Well, Harry," Sirius said with a deep, contented sigh as they entered the castle, "here we are. Home sweet home." With a small smile whose modesty was betrayed by the sheer joy in the glasses-framed green eyes above it, Harry Potter nodded silently, his senses engaged in taking in the familiar sights and smells of the only place he had ever truly seen as his home.
Now Sirius looked down and addressed the strange figure on his other side. "Homsar.... I'm so sorry our quest to find your father did not go as we had hoped." He shook his head sadly. "There are simply too many chipwiches out there in the world, and it would have been impossible for us to locate them all and find out which one is your dad. Millions is a very common surname for ice-cream-filled cookie sandwiches, after all."
Harry reached around behind Sirius and clumsily patted Homsar on what he hoped was one shoulder (and especially not the bowler hat, Merlin, not the bowler hat, for that was Sirius's exclusive territory, and Harry had no desire whatsoever to intrude in his godfather's bizarre sexual relationship with the good professor). He knew what it was like to be fatherless, and so he greatly sympathized.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! The results are in, I am NOT the bother! KASHOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Homsar half-shrieked, half-sighed, and his bowler hat drooped down the back of his head. Harry quickly jerked his hand away.
"But don't give up, all right?" continued Sirius. "Lily is still out there, scouring the world, and if anyone can find your father and reunite the two of you, it's her." Or perhaps Maury Povich, but unfortunately Sirius, Harry, and Homsar were unacquainted with the DNA paternity magic that Mr Povich wielded.
"Yeah, Homsar, don't worry, Mum will find him," Harry added. "Meanwhile, we need you here to teach us Arithmancy and, er...maintain order in Ravenclaw." Something like that, at least. He made sure not to bring up the topic of starting the Jeffersons, lest Homsar sink deeper into his funk.
As they got further into the castle, the trio parted ways, Harry and Sirius proceeding to the Slytherin dungeons and Homsar blibbling his way towards Ravenclaw Tower.
The rhinoceros
The next figure to walk through the door did so with something of a spring in his step, which was not at all an easy feat to accomplish when one's feet were soolnds, and, more importantly, when said soolnds belonged to a creature who had once buried himself in a hole in the ground in the hopes of experiencing what it felt like to be dead...and that was to say nothing of the fact that said creature owned every single album by Morrissey on cassette tape, eight-track, CD, and in iTunes. Despite the melancholy of his gaming partner, Strong Sad was actually in a very chipper mood. He was just returning from a whole series of conventions -- three sci/fi fantasy ones and eight forums on safety, to be exact. It had been a good summer. He had even engaged in a little bit of cosplay at the Forum for Fire Prevention in the Workplace and Beyond, dressing as a fire hydrant. Even having been urinated on by several dogs on the way to the forum had not gotten him down.
He whistled a happy tune as he walked toward Gryffindor Tower, punctuating the song with small bits of sung phrases. The lyrics "I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever write a song about Sibbie" could be distinctly heard by anyone within earshot.
He turned and ascended a staircase. After several seconds, however, there was a loud crash as one of his soolnds plunged straight through that nasty old trick stair. The whistling and singing immediately stopped, and the only sound that was emitted from the staircase was an echoey "I'm dooooooooooooomed."
The jokester
Luckily, those who enjoyed hearing a good round of whistling were not to be disappointed, for Fred Weasley came strolling through the door in Strong Sad's wake, and he was in quite a pleasant mood indeed! His trip to southeast Asia to pick up some, shall we say, dodgy magical items had been an outright success, and he could think of little else than holing up in his room and putting them to good use. And by good use, he meant starting up his Flatulent Fireworks product line, among other things. He strode up toward Gryffindor Tower, one hand casually clutching a very large package under his robes.
The swan
As Fred's whistling drifted off in the direction of Gryffindor, a much different noise punctuated the silence that began to fill in the Entrance Hall.
"Hell-OOOOOOOOOO-OH! Anybody home? Heeeeeeeeeeeere...SWANNIE!" A squat woman of indiscernible ethnic origin waddled through the doors. She wore a plaid housedress, and her hair was cut in a blunt bob, with even blunter bangs. Only her own echo greeted her, and she stopped in her tracks and looked around with suspicious, beady eyes. "Yuhhhhh, OK, but why is all the rum gone?" Her voice was heavily accented. "Swannie, I hooooo-ooooooome!"
Still nothing.
With a loud sigh, Miss Swan opened the large purse she had clutched to her and pulled out an orange cornsnake. "OK, you go finding somebody who look like a man and bring him back to Swan so we can get this party started," she commanded the snake, and it slithered off, probably ecstatic at the long-awaited opportunity to escape its nutjob mistress, who was now undoing the top button of her housedress in the hopes of attracting a booty call. Now that she had gone back to Kuvaria and been there and done all that with those wily Kuravian men (all of whom completely looked like men!), it was time to tap some magical ass.
The boss and the receptionist
Hogwarts and Scranton were two completely different worlds, almost like the office and the warehouse. But both places, castle and paper company in an industrial office park, felt like home to Pam Beesly, and while she wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing, that's how it was. Which, perhaps, was why she wasn't all that surprised to bump into Michael Scott as she entered the castle.
"Michael! I thought you -- oof!" A man in a suit and tie, with just a bit too much gel in his hair -- the aforementioned Michael Scott -- had launched himself at her and wrapped himself around her in a colossal bear hug. After several airless seconds and a quick head jerk to prevent the inevitable kiss attempt, Pam managed to pry Michael off of herself, but there was nothing she could do to stop the barrage of cheesy greetings, some of which were sung, that issued forth from his mouth.
"PAMELA YES MA'AM-ELA SAM I AM-ELA! WAIT-er! I'd like an order of Pam-strami on rye, please! PAM...duh duh duh, duh duh duh, LET THE BOYS BE BOYS! If you like it, then you should've put a Pam on it, oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh!" By this point, Michael had pulled back from her enough to start slapping his own ass and shaking one hand around in an attempt at the Single Ladies dance, allowing Pam to take several steps back.
"It's good to see you, too, Michael," she managed to interject with a bit of a smile -- and it was a genuine smile, because as crazy as the man was, she had missed him. Not enough to watch him do what might be the world's worst imitation of Beyoncé, however, and so she extended a hand to grip him just above the elbow. "But just...yeah, don't dance anymore. At least, not right now, okay?"
That was a tall order for Michael, who was ecstatic not just to see Pam, but also to be returning to Hogwarts and Dunder-Mifflin Hogsmeade, but he complied with a joyful sort of "Yayyyyysh" before coming to a complete stop. But he couldn't stay still for long, jerking back into motion with a loud hand clap. "Vill-kom-en back-en, Fraulein Pam! Ve haf missed you around dese parts!" His accent started going a bit Arnold Schwarzenegger.
God. Already Pam was starting to wonder whether she should have stayed in Scranton for another week or two. It had been so nice and peaceful and wonderful visiting her parents. They never did crazy dances or semi-sexually-harassed her on a regular basis. "You weren't here either, Michael."
"Jaaaaaa," Michael replied deeply, his twitching smile betraying any attempt at Germanic seriousness he was hoping to impart. "Jaaaaaasssssh." He clapped again. "Because I~~~ was out. And by out, I mean OUT. GAY PRIDE, BABY! I was doing a circuit of all the pride festivals around the world, getting my rainbow on, because I'm here, I'm queer, and I'm gay as beer!" More ass slapping, albeit of a different sort, ensued.
Ah yes, the gay thing. Michael was still convinced he was gay, and for all Pam knew, he was still engaged to that awful purple television monstrosity. "That's...great, Michael. I'm sure you really represented out there. Well, I'm really jetlagged, so I should probably, you know, head back to my dorm. But...I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
She quickly darted off in the direction of Hufflepuff as Michael ass-slapped his way toward Slytherin, or perhaps Sparklypoo. A sort of wheezing sound, as well as a gut-churning scent, came from a small pet carrier he held in his non-ass-slapping hand.
((Time to officially end my unofficial hiatus! Please feel free to throw your characters at any or all of these guys, gals, and marshamallowy-type creatures! Emmie Silvey is still on hiatus, but I will bring her back in a separate post sometime in the nearish future. :) ))
The godfather, the reluctant hero, and the marshmallow
The figure of Sirius Black cast a tall, lean shadow across the Entrance Hall. One of the shadow's hands rested on the shadow shoulder of a somewhat shorter subject, whose gangly shape was topped with what appeared to be a bird's nest, or perhaps just a head of extremely messy hair. The other hand of the taller shadow rested on a much less defined form. Two short, golf-club-shaped legs could be clearly discerned, but above that, it was unclear where torso gave way to head; the only clue was the outline of a bowler hat on top of the entire structure, and it was firmly on the bowler hat that the hand of Sirius Black's shadow rested. Even more bizarre was the fact that the alignment of the shadow feet of this strange creature gave the distinct impression that it was hovering a couple of feet off the floor as it moved forward with the other two members of the trio.
"Well, Harry," Sirius said with a deep, contented sigh as they entered the castle, "here we are. Home sweet home." With a small smile whose modesty was betrayed by the sheer joy in the glasses-framed green eyes above it, Harry Potter nodded silently, his senses engaged in taking in the familiar sights and smells of the only place he had ever truly seen as his home.
Now Sirius looked down and addressed the strange figure on his other side. "Homsar.... I'm so sorry our quest to find your father did not go as we had hoped." He shook his head sadly. "There are simply too many chipwiches out there in the world, and it would have been impossible for us to locate them all and find out which one is your dad. Millions is a very common surname for ice-cream-filled cookie sandwiches, after all."
Harry reached around behind Sirius and clumsily patted Homsar on what he hoped was one shoulder (and especially not the bowler hat, Merlin, not the bowler hat, for that was Sirius's exclusive territory, and Harry had no desire whatsoever to intrude in his godfather's bizarre sexual relationship with the good professor). He knew what it was like to be fatherless, and so he greatly sympathized.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! The results are in, I am NOT the bother! KASHOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Homsar half-shrieked, half-sighed, and his bowler hat drooped down the back of his head. Harry quickly jerked his hand away.
"But don't give up, all right?" continued Sirius. "Lily is still out there, scouring the world, and if anyone can find your father and reunite the two of you, it's her." Or perhaps Maury Povich, but unfortunately Sirius, Harry, and Homsar were unacquainted with the DNA paternity magic that Mr Povich wielded.
"Yeah, Homsar, don't worry, Mum will find him," Harry added. "Meanwhile, we need you here to teach us Arithmancy and, er...maintain order in Ravenclaw." Something like that, at least. He made sure not to bring up the topic of starting the Jeffersons, lest Homsar sink deeper into his funk.
As they got further into the castle, the trio parted ways, Harry and Sirius proceeding to the Slytherin dungeons and Homsar blibbling his way towards Ravenclaw Tower.
The rhinoceros
The next figure to walk through the door did so with something of a spring in his step, which was not at all an easy feat to accomplish when one's feet were soolnds, and, more importantly, when said soolnds belonged to a creature who had once buried himself in a hole in the ground in the hopes of experiencing what it felt like to be dead...and that was to say nothing of the fact that said creature owned every single album by Morrissey on cassette tape, eight-track, CD, and in iTunes. Despite the melancholy of his gaming partner, Strong Sad was actually in a very chipper mood. He was just returning from a whole series of conventions -- three sci/fi fantasy ones and eight forums on safety, to be exact. It had been a good summer. He had even engaged in a little bit of cosplay at the Forum for Fire Prevention in the Workplace and Beyond, dressing as a fire hydrant. Even having been urinated on by several dogs on the way to the forum had not gotten him down.
He whistled a happy tune as he walked toward Gryffindor Tower, punctuating the song with small bits of sung phrases. The lyrics "I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever write a song about Sibbie" could be distinctly heard by anyone within earshot.
He turned and ascended a staircase. After several seconds, however, there was a loud crash as one of his soolnds plunged straight through that nasty old trick stair. The whistling and singing immediately stopped, and the only sound that was emitted from the staircase was an echoey "I'm dooooooooooooomed."
The jokester
Luckily, those who enjoyed hearing a good round of whistling were not to be disappointed, for Fred Weasley came strolling through the door in Strong Sad's wake, and he was in quite a pleasant mood indeed! His trip to southeast Asia to pick up some, shall we say, dodgy magical items had been an outright success, and he could think of little else than holing up in his room and putting them to good use. And by good use, he meant starting up his Flatulent Fireworks product line, among other things. He strode up toward Gryffindor Tower, one hand casually clutching a very large package under his robes.
The swan
As Fred's whistling drifted off in the direction of Gryffindor, a much different noise punctuated the silence that began to fill in the Entrance Hall.
"Hell-OOOOOOOOOO-OH! Anybody home? Heeeeeeeeeeeere...SWANNIE!" A squat woman of indiscernible ethnic origin waddled through the doors. She wore a plaid housedress, and her hair was cut in a blunt bob, with even blunter bangs. Only her own echo greeted her, and she stopped in her tracks and looked around with suspicious, beady eyes. "Yuhhhhh, OK, but why is all the rum gone?" Her voice was heavily accented. "Swannie, I hooooo-ooooooome!"
Still nothing.
With a loud sigh, Miss Swan opened the large purse she had clutched to her and pulled out an orange cornsnake. "OK, you go finding somebody who look like a man and bring him back to Swan so we can get this party started," she commanded the snake, and it slithered off, probably ecstatic at the long-awaited opportunity to escape its nutjob mistress, who was now undoing the top button of her housedress in the hopes of attracting a booty call. Now that she had gone back to Kuvaria and been there and done all that with those wily Kuravian men (all of whom completely looked like men!), it was time to tap some magical ass.
The boss and the receptionist
Hogwarts and Scranton were two completely different worlds, almost like the office and the warehouse. But both places, castle and paper company in an industrial office park, felt like home to Pam Beesly, and while she wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing, that's how it was. Which, perhaps, was why she wasn't all that surprised to bump into Michael Scott as she entered the castle.
"Michael! I thought you -- oof!" A man in a suit and tie, with just a bit too much gel in his hair -- the aforementioned Michael Scott -- had launched himself at her and wrapped himself around her in a colossal bear hug. After several airless seconds and a quick head jerk to prevent the inevitable kiss attempt, Pam managed to pry Michael off of herself, but there was nothing she could do to stop the barrage of cheesy greetings, some of which were sung, that issued forth from his mouth.
"PAMELA YES MA'AM-ELA SAM I AM-ELA! WAIT-er! I'd like an order of Pam-strami on rye, please! PAM...duh duh duh, duh duh duh, LET THE BOYS BE BOYS! If you like it, then you should've put a Pam on it, oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh!" By this point, Michael had pulled back from her enough to start slapping his own ass and shaking one hand around in an attempt at the Single Ladies dance, allowing Pam to take several steps back.
"It's good to see you, too, Michael," she managed to interject with a bit of a smile -- and it was a genuine smile, because as crazy as the man was, she had missed him. Not enough to watch him do what might be the world's worst imitation of Beyoncé, however, and so she extended a hand to grip him just above the elbow. "But just...yeah, don't dance anymore. At least, not right now, okay?"
That was a tall order for Michael, who was ecstatic not just to see Pam, but also to be returning to Hogwarts and Dunder-Mifflin Hogsmeade, but he complied with a joyful sort of "Yayyyyysh" before coming to a complete stop. But he couldn't stay still for long, jerking back into motion with a loud hand clap. "Vill-kom-en back-en, Fraulein Pam! Ve haf missed you around dese parts!" His accent started going a bit Arnold Schwarzenegger.
God. Already Pam was starting to wonder whether she should have stayed in Scranton for another week or two. It had been so nice and peaceful and wonderful visiting her parents. They never did crazy dances or semi-sexually-harassed her on a regular basis. "You weren't here either, Michael."
"Jaaaaaa," Michael replied deeply, his twitching smile betraying any attempt at Germanic seriousness he was hoping to impart. "Jaaaaaasssssh." He clapped again. "Because I~~~ was out. And by out, I mean OUT. GAY PRIDE, BABY! I was doing a circuit of all the pride festivals around the world, getting my rainbow on, because I'm here, I'm queer, and I'm gay as beer!" More ass slapping, albeit of a different sort, ensued.
Ah yes, the gay thing. Michael was still convinced he was gay, and for all Pam knew, he was still engaged to that awful purple television monstrosity. "That's...great, Michael. I'm sure you really represented out there. Well, I'm really jetlagged, so I should probably, you know, head back to my dorm. But...I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
She quickly darted off in the direction of Hufflepuff as Michael ass-slapped his way toward Slytherin, or perhaps Sparklypoo. A sort of wheezing sound, as well as a gut-churning scent, came from a small pet carrier he held in his non-ass-slapping hand.
((Time to officially end my unofficial hiatus! Please feel free to throw your characters at any or all of these guys, gals, and marshamallowy-type creatures! Emmie Silvey is still on hiatus, but I will bring her back in a separate post sometime in the nearish future. :) ))
Re: For Harry and Sirius
She finally let go of Harry, taking a step back to look him over. He certainly seemed to have had a good time, she thought happily.
"I don't remember much about being popcorn," she answered. "It's just... one moment I was studying and the next I was covered in butter. I've been keeping myself busy, though. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position came up, and I applied for it. Can you imagine? I'm actually Professor Granger now." A frown creased her brow as she added, more uncertainly, "I hope you don't mind terribly. You're better at that than I am, but you weren't here, and I didn't want to take the chance that someone... who didn't know anything about the subject would get it, because this place is mad!"
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Sirius, meanwhile, was observing the happy reunion from a few paces back. If studying is what causes one to become transfigured into cinema snack food, he thought to himself, then my approach to revision was the right one from the start!
He took a few steps forward and said with a warm grin, "Congratulations, Hermione. If Remus weren't popcorn himself -- " yet another thing to confirm Sirius's new theory " -- I'm sure he would be extremely proud of you. As am I, of course. Celebratory chipwich?" He reached into his cloak and pulled out three ice-cream-filled cookie delights.
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Hermione hadn't felt so happy in a long time. Two of her favorite people in the whole world were back with her. Things would only be better if Ron were here, but he'd disappeared some time ago himself.
"Oh!" she said. "Hagrid's here, too! He came recently. The Sorting Hat forced him to marry the new groundskeeper. He's bearing up about as well as can be expected, considering, but it was quite a shock. I know he'd love to see both of you sometime!"
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Harry, meanwhile, stopped abruptly halfway through his third bite into his chipwich. "Hagrid!" He exclaimed in a spray of crumbs. "He's here? I haven't seen him in...well, since Professor Dumbledore's funeral!" Harry was now beside himself with joy. "Does he still live in his hut? Or did he get Sorted into a House?" It would be Gryffindor, of course...except quite possibly not, given how barmy the Sorting Hat had become. "Once I settle in, we've got to visit him, it's been far too long. There's so much to tell him about, and I'll reckon he's got loads of stories of his own to share!" Hopefully none of them would involve Professor Dumbledore bedding down with Voldemort.
"And married as well! Is she a half-giant, too -- the new groundskeeper?" And then Harry remembered that he had met the groundskeeper (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1831385.html?thread=101544665#t101544665). "Wait a second, what? Er...Hagrid's gay now, too?"
What was it with Hogwarts and people turning gay??? There had to be some sort of Homosexuality Hex going around. Harry was becoming more and more sure of it.
((Edited to reflect new info that came up about Turlough to Harry!))
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Yeah, the subject definitely needed a change. "So have you taught any classes yet, Hermione?" Talk of academics was not shudderworthy, so Harry went with it, and anyway, he genuinely was curious about Hermione's new position.
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Harry tilted his head in thought for a moment."You know, I reckon teaching all those different levels will be sort of like the DA was. I mean, we had Fred and George, who were seventh years, and then we had Dennis Creevey, who was only a second year. And Neville, too -- he could barely do a Summoning Charm when we first started. And actually, with all these new students who used to be Muggles or were from other planets, you'll probably have a lot of beginners in the class. Maybe you can have more advanced students help the beginners at first, like we did in the DA." Harry actually found himself getting quite excited to see the first class.
And before he could stop himself, he added, "I can help...you know, only if you want, like if you need an extra person to help the beginners out or something."
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Something else he'd said made her face fall, though. "Your mum was here? I don't remember her at all. I wish I could have met her. And she did a class on boggarts? That's what I was thinking of doing, myself... But I could do something else..." Only in front of Harry would Hermione allow herself to be this uncertain. It was intensely relieving to have someone to provide genuine reassurance. She hadn't realized how much she needed it.
Re: For Harry and Sirius
The grin turned into something a bit more wistful, but also rather proud, as he continued, "Yeah, my mum was here. For a long while, actually. She's...well, she's brilliant." His grin widened. "I wish you'd been around to meet her, too, because I know you would've got on really well with her. I mean...." He was still grinning, but there was now something slightly uncomfortable about it. "She was our age, actually. Well, almost. Because she died when she was 21, so that's how old she was when she came here. She and, er...my dad. He was here, too, but it wasn't really my dad, just someone who...."
He cleared his throat. "Well, it's a long story, and it's sort of...bizarre...so I'll tell you the whole thing later. But my mum -- she was in Ravenclaw, too. Oh, and she and Sirius are now...erm...together. But I'm completely fine with it -- they're very happy, although I reckon he's going to miss her a lot now that she's out travelling the world to find Professor Homsar's father and we're back here. But he and Professor Homsar have got each other, so it shouldn't be that bad."
Another clearing of his throat and he continued, "Anyway, I don't think it's a bad idea to repeat Boggarts. They're quite common, but not too advanced, and I'll bet there are a lot of new students who came here after my mum taught the class. And the people who were here for the class could probably use the extra practise anyway. So...I think it's a good idea to teach them again."
Re: For Harry and Sirius
For a moment she wondered if they were all going to end up slipping away, off doing their own things and completely out of each other's lives except for peripherally. Then she gave herself a little shake, telling herself she was being far too maudlin.
"I don't think it would do any good to assign homework," she said. "Nobody would actually do it, what with classes not meeting very frequently. I suppose I'll just have to think of the whole thing as a rather more open version of the DA. And your mum... Yeah. I wish I could have met her. I'm sure I'd have liked her. But I'm glad you're back, and I'm glad Sirius is, too." Afraid she really would start to cry, she opted for something practical. "Can I do anything to help you two get settled into... wherever the hat has sorted you?"
Re: For Harry and Sirius
He glanced over at Sirius, who had wandered a bit down the corridor and appeared to be engrossed in, and possibly deep in conversation with, a painting of a rotund, mustachioed gentleman surrounded by stacks of birdcages, each one containing a bright yellow canary. He could tell Sirius was trying to give them some privacy in which to catch up, and he appreciated the gesture.
"We're actually both in...in, erm, Slytherin," he said to Hermione, clearly a bit embarrassed. House pride did not exist when your assigned house sucked elf bollocks! "The Hat thought it would be funny, and it had already put Ginny in Slytherin, and then when Sirius showed up, he asked to be there so we could be in the same place. Ron's in there, too, in case you haven't seen him around since you, er...unpopped. I mean, I suppose it's not that bad; I reckon the worst sorts of people get Sorted into the new houses instead, but...yeah, it's still Slytherin, so there are all sorts of gits there." Like that irritating man with the ugly, stinky dog and the frightening purple monstrosity of a lover. "Malfoy and Voldemort were in there, too, but they've been popcorn for a long time, so at least we don't have to worry about them." At least the strange popcorn curse/hex/virus/whatever had its benefits, too!
"But I'll bet Ravenclaw is loads better than Slytherin. The bar sounds cool, at least. We've got some sort of hookah place in Slytherin, and this other thing called a 'chaw parlor' (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1154130.html), but both places sound more like somewhere you'd find Mundungus Fletcher, so...yeah, I don't really go to either one."
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Re: For Harry and Sirius
The image of Hermione curled up all alone, night after night, in a squashy armchair as the embers of a fire flickered and died in the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room made Harry's chest ache. He felt bad that he had not been around during that time -- being alone and possibly friendless in the madness that Hogwarts had become must have been terrible for her -- but the quest to locate Homsar's father had been of the essence, so he could not entirely regret his absence either.
"I'm...er...really glad you've got a better place to sleep now," he said a bit awkwardly. But not being one to gush or become exceptionally emotional (anger, however, was another thing entirely!), he quickly continued, "I mean...I haven't been to the Gryffindor Common Room in years. It's just not the same any more, you know?" Well, with the possible exception of mistaking the Weasley twins' newest concotion with an innocent-looking box of sweets, of course. "What sort of athletic equipment is in there? Is it for Quidditch?" Harry looked a bit hopeful.
Re: For Harry and Sirius
Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not for Quidditch. There are weight machines, and a treadmill, that kind of thing. I don't even think there are many students here who would even know what Quidditch is--much less ones who should be allowed to get on a broom. I know Ron held a class several months ago, but I doubt anybody's ready for a full-fledged Quidditch team." She gave her head a little shake. "I never thought *I* would miss the days of Quidditch," she opined pensively.