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When Studying Goes Wrong; Year 4 - Day 6 - Evening-ish
Topic Started: May 21 2014, 04:13:53 PM (235 Views)
Percy Weasley
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Percy cradled his bologna sandwich between two mittened hands, whispering sweet nothings into its meaty middle.

"Urg the Unclean in the eighteenth centur-eeee lead rebellion so that goblins may be represented equal-eeee," the seventh-year crooned in sing-song, a wisp of hot breath steaming up his sandwich. He nodded shortly, satisfied that his sandwich had absorbed the information as well as he had and rewarded himself with a bite. Chewing thoughtfully, Percy placed his sandwich aside. He slapped his mittens over his eyes, though he had not the slightest inkling to cheat.

"The International Warlock Convention of twelve-eighty-niiiiine was conducted between The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards and a subcommittee of sorcerers, Sardiniaaaaan," he recited. He scrunched his freckles up in distaste as his rhyme fell apart. Rhyming memorization perhaps was not his forte. He remembered the time his father had asked him to design a catchy slogan for Anti Gravity Hats. He'd come up with Emasculate the Gravitational Pull of Your Victim's Capitulum in Order to Leave him Quite Flummoxed in the Proceeding!!!

He was never asked to do so again. Percy sighed, deciding it would be better to go back to rote memorization. He went to grab his sandwich from the bag beside him, when he realized it was missing. He huffed, searching the perimeter for scoundrel sandwich-stealers. Seeing no one, he grumbled, grabbing the edges of his history book and raising it onto his lap. He looked for the paragraph on giant wars and came face to face with a bologna sandwich, rye bread flat on the line about cultural brutality.

"Noooo!" Percy shrieked, swatting his lunch onto the grass. The bread flipped, leaving a smear of bologna grease on the page of his sacred library book. "My lunch meats have befouled this page of reference!" he grieved while frantically blotting the smear with his embroidered napkin.
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Brooke Isley
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Call me Ivy

Ivy was wondering away from the kitchens and to the courtyard for a bit of space. She was grinning to herself after sneaking a few bits and pieces from the kitchen. That was when she saw Percy Weasley, wasn’t he head boy or something? She made her way over the boy who seemed to have dropped some food on a library book. She swooped over there picking up the book and brushing off the food looking at the title.

It was by her father. She smirked. “Tut tut Percy, defacing my father’s book? Can’t wait to see what he thinks of someone throwing food on his book.”
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Name: Brooke Isley
Nickname: Ivy
House: Ravenclaw

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she likes to leave you hanging on her word
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Percy Weasley
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Tut tut. That sound, that wonderful onomatopoeia he adored and used so often was being turned against him. Percy glanced up, petrified, expecting to see a professor touting a detention slip with his name on it. He breathed out sharply, relieved to see it was only a student. He flashed his Head Boy badge at her as though he was revealing himself as a member of the ministry or one of those muggle please-men.

He was hoping it would scare her off, but it did no such good. In fact, she snatched the book from his lap, bologna smear and all. "You must return that engaging publication to me this instant!" he clicked as she examined the cover. Percy was already frantically writing a detention slip for her, his quill puncturing the page as he scribbled some nonsense about stolen property.

Now, however, he realized she had proof. The book! He'd written his name on the check-out list on the inside front cover (along with the date, time, and condition of the book at its removal, of course). He was done for!

Nevertheless, some new information perked up his ears. Father? Could this be none other than the daughter of famed novelist Jackson Isley? Percy's quill slunk from his detention sheet, marking a long, looping scribble under "Infractions." He'd heard rumors that the esteemed author's offspring roamed the halls of Hogwarts, but he'd never had the pleasure of meeting one until now... and under such circumstances!

Percy shot to his feet. "I can assure you without equivocation that it was done unintentionally, Miss Isley," he said, starstruck shivers going down his spine as he said the name. "Your father is an unquestionably brilliant man in both character and acuity, and I do hope it runs in the family," he said nodding curtly at the girl, a twitch of a smile pulling at his pinched lips despite himself.

"May the Isley name never be defamed by bologna or similar meat products henceforth," he added, right hand up to God, the left surreptitiously blotting a leftover smear above the page number.
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Brooke Isley
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Call me Ivy

Brooke let out a small laugh as he began to demand that she give the book back to him. She didn’t expect anything less from the head boy, known for being a little shit most of the time. Throwing out detention slips like there were millions of trees in the world, maybe she should bring them up to him. Ask about how he was wasting the trees and see if he was okay with that. After mentioning her father’s name, Ivy glanced up to the boy noticing as the quill sunk from the slip and he seemed to freeze on the spot. She smirked trying not to laugh.

Miss Isley? Brooke could have laugh at that as well but she was trying to keep a serious face. She crossed her arms as he shot up, watching him as he kept talking about how her father was brilliant. Of course he was. She had read those books herself while she was at home, before she even came to Hogwarts. The lectures on these topics had been stuck into her head ever since she was little. Maybe that was why she was a Ravenclaw in the first place. “Just because his books are good, doesn’t mean he is a good character.” Ivy shrugged to him; her father was a fair man. A bit strict at times, but she didn’t mind too much.

Ivy laughed at his next comment. “Good, don’t want the school to have to pay for another book.” She looked at the book for a few moments before turning to Percy. “You know his pages have a spell in them so you can get the food off without ruining the pages.” Ivy pulled out her wand and pointed it to the page. ”Tersus” The stain on the page flew off the pages then disappeared into the air.
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Name: Brooke Isley
Nickname: Ivy
House: Ravenclaw

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she likes to leave you hanging on her word
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Percy Weasley
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"Perchance," Percy agreed begrudgingly. However, he could not bring himself to believe Jackson Isley could be anything but an upstanding man. He'd read all his books, after all, and the man certainly had an impressive resume.

Percy watched with gratitude as the girl lifted the stain from the book. It peeled off like a sticker before evaporating into a waft of wasted bologna bliss. Percy had studied the spell himself, but had not yet been able to perfect it. Many of his cousins' old quidditch robes still sported mysterious rings of coffee stains from where he had experimented on them.

"Superb," Percy congratulated her, offering a light smattering of applause. He received his book back from her, running a bony finger along its page. Pristine. Untarnished. All was well. In fact, better than well! His eyes lit up in delight as he noticed the ink blot that had stained the page upon check-out had been wiped clean along with his lunch meat mishap.

"Egads!" whooped Percy, raising an excited palm to his cheek, "I say, this may be the prime and solitary incident in Hogwarts history during which a library opuscule will be returned in an ameliorated condition than it was in when extracted priorly!" He pushed his glasses a little too hard up the bridge of his nose, leaving little painful indents.

He ignored them, his face growing serious yet again. His mouth pinched into a well-worn frown. He grabbed his quill and placed his book aside (but not before writing "EXCELLENT!!" under Condition Returned). Inspecting the girl from above his horn-rimmed spectacles, he extracted yet another detention slip.

"Miss Isley, I will require that you provide me with your forename," Percy stated, his quill hovering over the line labeled Guilty Party.
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Brooke Isley
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Call me Ivy

“You don’t know him like I do.” Brooke winked to the head boy before stepping away from him. Her eyes darted around; no one else seemed to be about. She wondered what he was like when he was alone, maybe he was a tad more fun? Perhaps he was actually alright, from what she had heard he seemed hard to put up with. Feeling the applause on her, Ivy smiled wide. It was rare that others applauded a good spell; in Ravenclaw they were rather common.

Brooke only just got what he has said, her eyebrow raised as she watched him for a few moments. “You need to speak more… commonly.” No wonder he’s picked on so much. Ivy shook her head at the boy glancing down to the book and then back to his face.

“Brooke, but everyone calls me Ivy. So either.” Brooke glanced down to the line. A detention slip? “You are giving me a detention slip?”
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Name: Brooke Isley
Nickname: Ivy
House: Ravenclaw

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she likes to leave you hanging on her word
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Percy Weasley
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Percy's mouth twitched deeper into a pout. Speak more commonly. He scoffed. "Oh, botheration. As the daughter of an author incomparably gifted in his compositions, I would have expected you to find revelry in the the pellucid grandiloquence that is the spoken word." He thrust his chin into the air indignantly, looking down his freckly nose at the girl. He examined her up and down before scribbling both names onto the detention slip.

Percy's head shot up at her question, his blue eyes wide with surprise. "A detention slip?" he repeated incredulously, "Of course not!" He extracted a small vial of Weasley's Wizarding Wite-Out from his sleeve and swiped a precise line of the stuff across the paper's header.

"My dear Miss Isley, I am writing you a commendation!" He held up a thin finger to Ivy before rewriting the title in his own flowery script: Deserving of Recognition for Exceptional Regard for the Well-Being of School and Student Property. It was a little difficult to squeeze onto a line which had previously only contained the words Detention Slip, but Percy managed.

He finished filling out the slip with a large, swooping signature and handed the paper over to Brooke with a flourish. "Furthermore, I will award the House of Ravenclaw precisely five House Points in your favor," he added. He flashed Brooke a rare Percy Weasley grin. It scrunched up his freckles, causing his cheeks and ears to glow pink with delight and his eyes to crinkle into little blue crescents of sunshine.

It was a sight commonly found in the wild when he was polishing his Head Boy badge, reading excerpts out of From Prefect to Perfect--his favorite political commentary magazine--or whenever he got as excited about cauldron bottoms as normal people did about regular bottoms. Quite rarely was it ever directed at another human.
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Brooke Isley
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Call me Ivy

Brooke watched Percy for a moment; she was having a hard time trying to work out what he was actually saying. “You mean you thought I’d talk posh?” Brooke didn’t like to admit that she did have a bit of a posher London accent compared to some of the students, but her language wasn’t as advanced as Percy’s was. In fact, it was almost as though he was showing off. Brooke hummed to herself watching him closely as he began to scribble on the slip again.

Which she was surprised to find out was not for a detention. Ivy was glad of this, but she wondered what the commendation would do for her. But it was a nice gesture at least. “Who are you going to hand it to?” Ivy leant over to him looking down to the slip. She was rather close to him and could small a weird musky smell, maybe old books? She wasn’t too sure but it was interesting at least.

“Five points, fun.” Ivy said raising her eyebrows once and leaning back to show him a grin. At least she could brag about getting points for her house. She wasn’t sure that she had witnessed his smile before, she had seen the frown and anger lines in his forehead but never a grin. “Thank you.”
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Name: Brooke Isley
Nickname: Ivy
House: Ravenclaw

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Percy Weasley
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"Not I, Miss Isely, you," Percy insisted, thrusting the paper at her again. "Turn this into any professor of your choice and they will be obligated to... er..." Percy didn't really know what the commendation would do. He had only written one twice before--once for a student who mopped up slug sludge from the front steps of the school (although he later found out the student had vomited the gooey mess there after a hex gone wrong and was trying to hide the evidence), and another time for a student who came up to him, inconsolable, blubbering, and apparently molting, to report how a couple of fifth years had tricked him into eating a Canary Cream from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. That one had been personal.

"...well... I'm sure they will think very highly of you," Percy finished quickly. Was he supposed to do anything with a commendation? All Percy knew was that he had had all of his framed. All forty-six of them hung proudly in his bedroom. That was enough for him.

"You are exceedingly welcome, Miss Isley, and I do encourage you to advance in the illustrious endeavor of fulfilling your sumptuous duty as a student of this grandiose place of learning and cognitive aptitude." He gushed, staring back up at the school with a drumming pride in his chest.

"May I ask, however, why your own bosom is not bedecked with an emblem as dignifying in splendor and prosperity as this?" Percy questioned, his freckly digits forming a cup around his spotless Head Boy badge.
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Brooke Isley
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Call me Ivy

Brooke jumped back as he thrust the paper at her. She took it from his fingers and smiled, looking down to what he had written on it. She didn’t know which professor to hand this into, after thinking for a few moments she decided that she would give it to Professor Gray-Winters. Herbology was Brooke’s favourite subject after all. She pushed a hand through her red hair and looked to Percy. “Of course.” She said with a nod.

“Bosom?” Ivy raised her eyebrows trying not to smirk, but no of course he was speaking about the fact she wasn’t a prefect. That was a role that most Ravenclaw students fought for, Ivy wasn’t too bothered herself. Having such a role wouldn’t impact her career choice as it would the other students; Ivy just wanted to study plants and creatures. Being a prefect wouldn’t really add much to that. “I guess Carmen is more suited than myself.” Brooke said, her voice becoming slightly posh as she spoke. Maybe it was just being around a guy who liked to speak as though he was a dictionary.

“Did you have to fight people off to be head boy?”
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Name: Brooke Isley
Nickname: Ivy
House: Ravenclaw

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Percy Weasley
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Percy's face flushed despite himself. His eyes almost involuntarily wandered to said bosom at her repetition of the word. They snapped back up to meet Ivy's amused, and slightly gloating gaze. "Ahem," he coughed into his fist to hide his pink-blooming cheeks. "It... is a completely appropriate word to denote a particular component of the human anatomy," he said, but despite his argument was unable to bring himself to use the word again.

Instead, he distracted himself by listening to her explanation. Percy nodded, considering the answer. "I suppose if Headmaster Dumbledore so ascertains that one is less suitable for the merciless, yet deeply rewarding career as a Prefect of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, then we, as subordinates to him are indeed powerless against his decisions, and must thence show respect for said judgements," he concluded. Percy slid his hands together to brush off the imaginary dust that had accumulated there during his monologue.

"The conflict is brutal! Savage, even!" Percy said emphatically, punching the air with a bony fist. His sleeve flew upward, revealing a scrawny elbow, dotted with freckles. "Not for the faint of heart, at any rate," he boasted, rolling his sleeve back into position. "Those dubious of my predilection for inspired justice and aptitude were quite certainly 'kicked to the curb' as some may say," he added a dainty kick to the air to stress his point, nearly knocking himself off balance, "when I was granted the fortuitous incidence in which I was so permitted to don this gracefully ostentatious sliver of metal upon my very own boso--" he grimaced, mid collar pop, "Er... upon my upper torso," he finished lamely.
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