Birthday Saluations

[Luitpold Striebel]

February 18, 1884

Most people relished their birthdays. Poldi was aware of this. He watched them, reveling with their friends, taking extra food from the kitchens and generally making merry with those who cared for them. But, considering that the people that he cared for most with miles upon miles away and he himself had never been invited to join in on any such revelry for others’ birthdays or special occasions, he had always considered even the mere hope for such a celebration a fool’s errand for himself. Frankly, as long as his birthday fell on a day in which he was at school (which it always did), he had no desire to celebrate it in any public way. He had a few birthday traditions, of course. Every year, he either postponed, neglected or completed in advance any homework he might have to complete and opened whatever presents or letters his family sent him in the privacy of his own bunk room.

He thoroughly enjoyed those small pleasures and thoroughly expected to carry them out this year just as he had in years before and he had managed complete his classwork for Wednesday they day before. Things seemed to be going well, really, until that morning at breakfast, when the owls arrived and dropped one normal-looking package from Sophie, one non-descript envelope from Mutti and one swelling, quivering and whistling envelope from Gogo, which was noticeably warm and looked as if it was about to explode, he could even see small flashes of light peeking out from between the flaps. As soon as he saw it, he knew that it couldn’t possibly be a muggle card or letter. He had to have gotten something from Hogsmeade and it didn’t look as if it would last until he had a chance to get out of the Great Hall, let alone back to his bed. So, with great trepidation and care, he eased the flap open and immediately dropped the envelope when a stream of paper confetti exploded out of it with a loud crack and a long string of light snaked out behind it and formed the words “Fröhliche Geburtstag!” in english cursive script just above eye level over the table.

He immediately wished that he could just sink into the ground and disappear. The words seemed to take forever to disappear and even though he knew that the great majority of people in the room didn’t understand what it said, big words written in light were bound to attract attention whether they were intelligible or not. That attention may have been something that Gogo would like from friends and strangers on his birthday, but it was the last thing Poldi wanted. His chest tightening with dread, he glanced around briefly to see most of the people at the table looking at him. Not entirely sure what to do, he just looked down at his food (which was entirely covered in confetti) silently and waited for an inevitable comment to come his way.

  

[Tamsin Skeeter xx]

Tamsin was not in a good mood today. She hadn’t slept well and it was a Monday which meant she had to attend her least favourite classes. Ugh. She couldn’t wait for her sixth year so she could drop all of that useless crap. Like history of magic. Where would she actually use that? It was boring! And those essays! She was lucky she had blackmailed convinced a girl into writing those for her or otherwise her perfect grades would not be so perfect anymore and that simply would not do.

As she was enjoying her breakfast trying not to think of the headache from lack of sleep somebody next to her received a letter. Not a normal one, though, oh no. That would have been far too easy. Suddenly, all of her food as covered with confetti. Groaning, Tamsin looked at the person. Ah, Striebel. That would explain a lot. This boy was not somebody Tamsin enjoyed in her house, but she knew him. Mostly by reputation.

”You should really tell whoever sent you that to not do a confetti next time. Or don’t open it by the table. I do not want my breakfast covered in pieces of paper.”

  

[Annette Fontaine]

Annette was sat with a seventh year Hufflepuff, exchanging notes when she saw the small comotion a few seats down. She was just about to make a comment when a Hufflepuff fifth year she vaguely recognised spoke up.

She frowned at the girls comment. It was people like that who did little to disprove her opinion that British people lacked the manners that even the youngest child on the continent had. Maybe the girl had just had a bad day, she reasoned, always wanting to think the best, but to not even wish Mr Striebel a happy birthday? Thinking about it, she couldn't even remember Luitpold ever mentioning his birthday, or celebrating it. There again, she vaguely remembered someone saying his family was abroad likes hers- that would explain why he never had a big celebration. She'd nearly cried on her birthday last year- her siblings were abroad so their letters were a week late, and it had been her first birthday without her parents. Either way, Anne was determined not to let someone else have their birthday ruined. She gave the girl the slightest of cold glances before sitting down a few seats from Mr Striebel.

"Gratulation!" She smiled brightly, glad her parents had taught her the basics of several European languages. "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!"

  

[Luitpold Striebel]

It didn’t take long for the reactions that he had dreaded to come his way. First, one Miss Skeeter, whom he recognized well from the common room, but had spoken to only once before (and that had been only to ask her if she might pass the butter once during dinner in third year), had rather snippily reprimanded him for having gotten confetti on her breakfast. He should have expected it and most likely deserved it but, somehow, he found that he took slight offense to it, though he would never dare let it show through on his countenance. He had ruined her breakfast with his confetti; he knew that she had a right to be bothered by that, but he simply couldn’t shake this small, nagging voice in the back of his mind that reminded him it was his birthday. He asked for very little and, as it would have him believe, at least, he had the right not to be berated about the effects of a card that he had neither wanted nor asked for. Perhaps next year, she’d have reason to be cross with him. He most certainly wasn’t going to be telling Gogo that he oughtn’t send cards like that again. Not after the year that he’d had. No, he would lie and write back that he’d loved it, which would make him complicit in whatever happened next year, but this year he was blameless. That small, indignant voice urged him to protest, or at least to ignore her, but luckily, he was interrupted before he said anything uncharacteristically brash by the arrival of Miss Fontaine, a Ravenclaw who he recognized as the girl who had kindly drawn attention away from him when he had made the rather foolish comment about alibis and false memory charms in charms class awhile back.

Her interruption this time was equally welcomed, though he did wish that the topic could be different. Even though he wasn’t fond of being berated on his birthday, at least Miss Skeeter’s lack of consideration had meant that she might not have noticed that it actually was his birthday. Miss, Fontaine, on the other hand, as she had just wished him a happy birthday, had clearly understood the illuminated writing above his head and would undoubtedly spread that knowledge to others at least though conversation with him. From her pronunciation of his birthday greeting, he assumed that her German was relatively limited. He didn’t particularly want to respond to her either. If he didn’t speak to her, a conversation wouldn’t start and he could retain whatever anonymity he still had. But, he knew that he couldn’t do that, neither to Miss Skeeter, nor to Miss Fontaine. Reluctantly, he glanced over at Miss Skeeter and muttered a sheepish, but reasonable “Sorry. M-my brother enjoys grand gestures.” before turning his attention to Miss Fontaine to give an obligatory show of gratitude “Merci” he uttered, in French that was certainly far more poorly pronounced than her German had been. Though he had said the words, it was obvious, even to his own ears, that he was less than eager to be congratulated for having been born seventeen years earlier. Feeling obligated to give her some sort of explanation, he added a rather hasty “…but I never celebrate here. I have no friends.” The comment was so hasty, in fact, that he hadn’t even really intended include the second half of it. It had been an afterthought that had simply tumbled out of his mouth on the tails of its forerunner. When he realized what he had said, he could feel a wave of embarrassment, almost worse than what he had felt when the card had erupted in front of him. His eyes widened in shock at his own foolishness and he diverted his gaze back down to his confetti-covered plate. It wasn’t at all fair of him to discuss his own troubles with Miss Fontaine and he most certainly didn’t want Miss Skeeter to know more than necessary about him. Around now, he had begun to appreciate the utility of memory charms. If he could only perform them adeptly to make himself forget this entire interaction when he got back to his dorm room, he would have a much happier birthday from here on out.

  

[Annette Fontaine]

Annette was a little surprised to hear Mr Striebel didn't celebrate his birthday here, or have friends, but she was well-bred enough to not let the surprise or pity further than her eyes. Her and Marjolaine had had entire balls and feasts held for their birthdays before they came to Hogwarts, and even then Annette had liked to get some food up to the common room to share with her friends and spend the evening singing or playing games. Last year had been different, of course- it was her first year without her sister at Hogwarts and her parents dead, but she still couldn't understand why not to celebrate. He must surely have some friends, or at least aquaintainces who wouldn't begrudge him their company, especially for his birthday. What about his room-mates? Maybe he didn't get on with them. The thought of spending a birthday alone was dreadful, and Annette resolved to try to continue the conversation rather than just go back to her work like she'd intended.

She smiled at his attempt at French, before trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

"Celebrating with all your family abroad is a strange experience." She agreed, attempting to cover up his blunder. It was a bad habit of hers- her Papa had always said that if she'd been born a boy and a few centuries earlier, she'd have been a knight that would go around defending every lamb in the country. Almost everyone knew she was technically an orphan, but she prayed they wouldn't read more into it than she intended. "Was that card from your family?"

  

[Thompson Skeeter]

He didn’t know why he could have been late with such a situation as this. It was something that he couldn’t explain at all. For some reason, the boy had felt that tiredness lingering within his body, each of which seeming to linger over his body. Yet, there was something that was worrying him. He had hoped that Alianor was not waiting for him there, not touching any of her food until he had come to join her. That fear had caused the boy to get dressed quickly, his hair a mess as he hurried out of the common room, speed walking down towards the great hall. There were always people who were late – people who seemed have always been late. It was no something that the man had wanted to deal with at the moment. Perhaps that was the reason why he had moved as quickly as possible towards the man. It was only when he reached the stairs that he hurried down them, trying is best to watch what steps he was walking on. Upon reaching the step that disappeared, he stepped over it quickly, as though not to have his foot fall through it. It had happened plenty of times and for him, he didn’t need that type of slow up. As he continued to move quickly, he could feel his heart pounding within his chest, his mind thinking about what could have been said to her. Thompson had been thinking about what could have possibly been said to her, especially whenever it came to how he was supposed to apologize in an event like this. It was something that he just had to do, even if the man didn’t want to do such a thing. It was just something in which he just had to do, especially whenever it came with the fact that she was a friend of his.

He could not disappoint her.

As he hurried down the hallway, it was with his luck that he had finally made it towards the Great Hall. It was only when the boy entered and headed towards the spot that she was siting that something happened. Before he knew it, there was confetti that shot within the air and floated towards the ground, covering the boy within the colorful tissue that had come out. There was an annoyed look that formed upon his face as he tried is best in order to help himself out, brushing off the little pieces of paper that had decided to cling to him. It was only then that his attention had been caught but a voice which was oddly familiar to him, his eyes looking at Tamsin with a raised brow. He allowed a small cough in order to escape him, allowing his sister to know that he was here, his eyes watching her carefully. There was so much that he could have said and yet, he decided to keep himself as quiet as possible, even with the confetti which lingered within his already messy hair. He turned his attention to the other boy however, offering him a gentler look. “Happy birthday..” His words were soft, the boy just watching him as he watched him for only a second before allowing is attention to flicker upon his sister. “Sister, that paper will not harm your food – just pluck it out.” He knew how his sister was at times and therefore, the boy couldn’t help but to place his sister into her place. Yet, the boy could be kind to her as well. “Mother sent some sweets. I have some that I will get you later on, since I probably won’t be able to eat that much.” It was the best that he could do in order to please his sister. At least, he wanted to please her.

  

[Loretta Browne2]

February 18th was just going to be one of those misfortunate days, Loretta decided ,as she entered the Great Hall trying to understand exactly why two third years would think putting vanishing ointment on their faces would be a good idea. They'd tried to tell her that they'd had spots but she'd done all she could to avoid shuddering. The ointment had worked a little two well and the girls had vanished away what looked like their skin. They'd informed her that it felt like it was still there she simply could see through it but the idea simply made her gag and for some reason they'd come to her since she was a Prefect.

And, technically it was her responsibility, so she'd accompanied the two hapless students to the Hospital Wing and handed them off to the nurse who could actually do something for them and made her way to the have breakfast though honestly she felt like the opposite.

She felt her eyes become drawn to the floating words and having overheard only the last person to speak, a Ravenclaw by his dress, she gathered it was somebody's birthday.

Hers had only been four days prior and was usually overshadowed by the festivities people placed on Valentines Day and had been strange to celebrate, to say the least. It had been the first year that she hadn't had Odira, or even Gideon, there to share it.

"A simple cleaning charm would probably fix anything," She murmured approaching the group as she realised that Miss. Skeeter was present and that she needed to have a word with her about patrol. The night before she'd caught a fifth year Puff girl out of bed and at the top of the astronomy tower and wanted to know if perhaps Tamsin knew something. She smiled tentatively at both the other Prefect and at her fellow classmates and tried not to remember the bare flesh with blood pumping through its veins when she glanced at the bacon.

  

[Luitpold Striebel]

Poldi kept his gaze fixed firmly on the confetti-covered plate in front of him despite Miss Fontaine’s merciful oversight of his mortifyingly bold confession. He dared not look in her eyes and see the pity that was absent from her voice. The mere suspicion of its presence was embarrassing enough and was already compounded by the steady gathering of voices behind him. Most of them were thankfully more focused on the effects of the confetti rather than the source or implication of it. One voice, which he recognized as belonging to a yearmate, Mr. Skeeter, the brother of Miss Skeeter, wished him a happy birthday, a salutation which he met with a stiff nod, still staring down at his plate. Thankfully, Skeeter soon turned his attention to his sister, which left him only Miss Fontaine to concern himself with. He realized that he would soon have to respond to her or risk coming across as rude, but she was mistaken in her assumption that his family was out of the country and the last thing that he wanted to do was offend her by telling her that she was mistaken when she had only been kind to him thus far. However, if he said nothing and allowed her to believe that they were living abroad, it would be as if he was lying to her. Honestly, he had no good options. He couldn’t help but wish that he had just left the card unopened and allowed it to explode. The result couldn’t possibly be any more unsettling than this was. That wasn’t to say that there was no small part of him that enjoyed conversation such as this, but it was just so much easier with people that were more familiar to him and less likely to take offense at the peculiarities which he knew himself to possess. Unfortunately, the only people who fell under that umbrella were close family and Gogo’s friends, who were a bit odd themselves (though that might have simply been a product of them being nine years old), so most of the time, particularly here at Hogwarts, exchanges like this one caused him at least as much burden as they did pleasure.

After an awkwardly long pause, which he was certain Miss Fontaine must have noticed, he responded, forcing himself to look up in an attempt to normalize the conversation to whatever slight degree he could. “My young brother sent the card. He is far fonder of grand gestures than I,” he explained in a timid, almost apologetic voice. To say that Gogo was fond of grand gestures was a bit of an understatement, but he did not wish to elaborate too much on the topic of family. He may not have carried on many conversations, but he was often privy to the conversations of others due to his unbidden, but convenient skill (which seemed to be failing at the moment) to go unnoticed in almost any social situation and he had heard of Miss Fontaine’s death quite often last year. It didn’t seem appropriate to talk at any great length about his own family, even if she had been the one who brought it up. He did, however, feel obligated to say something about his family’s place of residence. He rarely risked telling lies even those of omission. He had learned in his first year how arduous it could be to maintain them when he’d rather poorly not to let anyone know that he hadn’t been able to speak English. While this was a much smaller omission, the inner turmoil it would cause for him was the same and he would rather be able to pass Miss Fontaine in the hall or see her in class without feeling guilty. So, after another brief pause, trying as best he could to make it sound like nothing more than an offhand comment, he added “He and my parents live in Ipswich. Only my sister and her husband are still abroad…and soon their child.” The last part was a little more than an afterthought and he hoped that Miss Fontaine would not take offense at him mentioning the beginning of a new life in his family when two lives had left hers little more than a year ago, possibly less not to include her future child in their numbers when discussing his family seemed like an affront to his sister and to the child.

  

[Annette Fontaine]

“Well, they’re still quite far away.” She smiled. “And to not be able to share your birthday with them is always a strange experience.” She glossed again, glad one of her housemates had come over too. It transpired that the girl who had complained was Mr Skeeter’s sister, so she decided to leave the issue with Miss Skeeter to him- especially as one of her yearmates had just made a very good point about being able to remove the confetti.

Anne took out her wand and managed to gather up most of the confetti on the table into a neat pile. “See, no harm done.” She smiled again. “Besides, at least he remembers your birthday- my brother John forgot mine the year before last, so my sister sent him a howler. I’m certain he meant well, even if it might have been a bit… extravagant.” Anne phrased carefully.

  

[Thompson Skeeter]

Thompson had turned his attention to look towards Annette, offering her a small smile before making his way towards a small open spot on the table. “If I may?” He asked politely, offering them a smile before sitting down before the two of them, his eyes watching each of them. Every once in a while, he would allow his attention to flicker upon Tamsin, making sure that she didn’t say anything at all before flickering his attention back towards them. Well, this was interesting. Beginning to dish up his plate, he was not going to say anything at all until he brought up something about birthday. Thompson rose his eyelevel towards the two of them, thinking quietly before speaking. “I think I rather have my birthday celebrated and not forgotten, which is a common thing apparently.” That idea had caused him to roll his eyes lightly, remembering that there were times in which people have forgotten his birthday. He didn’t mind it however for Thompson would have preferred the silence rather than the confetti flying all over the place. Speaking of confetti, he had ignored the pieces which lingered within his hair, not wanting to bother with them at the moment. He would deal with them at a later time but as of now, it was better to actually get something within his stomach. It was during this time in which Thompson remained silent for only a bit longer, stopping when he figured that he had enough to hold him for now. His attention then turned upwards to look Annette and Luitpold, watching them quietly as he reached for his pumpkin juice before bringing it closer to him. It was then in which he took a sip before setting it down upon the table.

Well, that was better.

Keeping quiet for a few seconds later, he had folded his ands neatly together before speaking. “Other than the.. birthday surprise, how is everyone today? All rested and ready for the day?” That was an understatement. If Thompson could have slept in a bit more, he wouldn’t have been bothered by it at all. Instead, he feared what Alianor would think about him sleeping in. Perhaps it was that whole fact – and the fact that he did need to speak to her before class – that Thompson had hurried down to breakfast, just to get something to eat before wandering off and finding her. It was the normally the routine that he had going on. Reaching up towards his hair, he pulled out a piece of confetti, frowning lightly at it. Of course it would land into his hair. Where else would it have landed? Apparently, it just wanted to make his life more miserable. “I swear..” The words were muttered softly as he pulled out another piece of confetti, this one pink in color. Blinking slowly, he allowed a sigh to escape him. “.. I will be pulling confetti out of my hair for the rest of the day..” So was the life of a boy with curls in his hair. It didn’t help any of the matters and tended to collect certain items. It wasn’t something that he didn’t like at all, especially when it did collect items at times. Not only that, but there were certain people who enjoyed touching his hair. Apparently, there must have been some sort of fascination with his hair. He wasn’t going to be the one to judge. Thompson kept quiet about it most of the time.