- Back at school - though, since he was away again from the travelling carnival he'd grown up in, Hogwarts seemed like home too - and back in lessons. As a Hufflepuff, Timothy had always been happy to do all the work set, but as a boy who'd only learned to properly read and write about a year ago, the struggling didn't disappear as fast as he'd hoped. Even when he tried his best, there were plenty of his yearmates who did a lot better. Tim was a little embarrassed, but not jealous; after all, he wasn't the only boy from the lower class, and at least he'd been fortunate enough to find a way to come to school in the first place.
This afternoon he was trying to work on some Transfiguration, and had browsed the library for some literary help, pulling down a faded book from the right section. He thought he'd chosen a promising volume, but the one he'd chosen was a lot heavier than he'd anticipated, and by the time he'd lugged it to the nearest study table, he let it go in a hurry and the tome smacked down vehemently onto the polished wood. Hoping he hadn't perturbed anyone with the noise in the calm forest of books, Timothy sat down and tried to learn some more about what they were studying, clenching a quill absent-mindedly in his teeth.
Transfiguration was proving to be slightly interesting now they had moved on from the basics, and this year were - supposedly - capable of changing beetles to buttons and such. With live creatures and all! However, the book was a little discouraging in its description, though perhaps that was because Timothy's reading pace was dragging with the difficulty. When the in-clue-shun of sent-eee-ant beings is factored in, the level of con-cen-tray-shun, not to forget tek-nick-al skill, re-quired is "org- owg- er, aug-" Timothy stumbled over the pronunciation of augmented, the chewed quill falling onto the book and his hands reaching up to cradle his forehead, unable to finish the sentence: ...is augmented, and of paramount importance in the incantation.
He didn't want to get up and wander around to find the librarian, if only because he was too intimidated, but Timothy would be the first to admit he did need help. Er, what to do? He suddenly spotted a shadow nearby, and stood up halfway out of his chair, hoping his, "Excuse me... um?" would get their attention enough so that his timid plea of, "Would you mind tellin' me what this word means?" didn't go ignored.
Isaac sank into books the way an arctic explorer might sink into a hot bath. Here he was safe and warm, and he didn't have to worry about his ongoing quest to make friends. A quest which, incidentally, was proving far more interesting and diverse than he ever could have thought. It certainly wasn't straightforward.
Regardless, he didn't let his mind drift as he delved into a heavy Arithmancy book. To Isaac, there was something exciting about the fact that it wasn't on the reading list. Not even on the suggested reading list, let alone the required one. He knew it was silly to find such things exciting, but... that was just the way he was.
He was on chapter four now, and was in the process of taking a wild guess at the meaning of a rune that looked rather like an upside-down hedgehog when he was startled out of his reverie by a small voice. Wide-eyed in his surprise at being noticed at all, Isaac looked at the young boy for two straight seconds before glancing away out of embarrassment and moving his dark grey eyes swiftly to the word being pointed at. "Oh - er - augmented", he read the word in his soft voice. "It means to - to increase; to grow. So,", he peered at the context, "because the spell includes a sentient being, you need a higher - augmented - level of concentration and technical skill than you would if you were using a... well, a dead animal or a stick or something".
- Timothy chewed on his lip in anticipation, earnestly hoping the stranger whom he'd asked for help would prove kind and willing. Brown eyes swivelled onto the other boy as he answered Timmy's plea. Augmented. Right. Timothy nodded slowly, as if he knew what on earth that meant. Fortunately, the older boy seemed predisposed enough to lend a hand on that front, for he re-read the entire sentence. "Ah." Hearing them aloud, the words actually connected together some, and he nodded again, vaguely cheered. Of course, the sentence itself was hardly encouraging - the last thing Timothy needed was for his classes to require even more concentration - but he put on a brave face to quietly joke, "I don't s'pose Transfiguration gets any easier as you go on, does it?" Inside, Tim was far more disheartened, but he wouldn't dream of bringing up the matter if reading would ever get any easier. Anyway, the older boy probably had no problem with the subject, just as he'd had no problem reading the sentence.
"Thank you," He added, glancing over at the other student again with a grateful sort of smile and remembering his manners. As much a Hufflepuff as anyone, he had always set great store in simple things like sincere thank you's. Of course, Timothy always appreciated when someone helped, for he generally expected and was met with reluctant reactions at best. People had better things to do than take pity on pathetic second years. Realising he had just likely interrupted whatever else the boy had been doing - reading, rather - Tim hastily added an apology. "I 'preciate it - sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to interrupt you, but thanks for yer help," He nodded again, not feeling much in the mood to turn the page so the boy could see him struggle to 'read' the next block of lines.
It always made Isaac feel a bit down whenever someone showed signs of altering their behaviour as a result of class. He had been raised to be a young gentleman, full of courtesy and good breeding, but one thing he couldn't be was proud. He had been born into the world of the upper class, after all; he didn't credit himself for it.
Going by the way this younger boy was dressed, and the manner in which he spoke, he was lower class. But Isaac was utterly non-judgemental, and refused to think any less of the young stranger for this. On the contrary, he felt humility at the boy's hesitation, and he felt guilty that it might have something to do with intimidation at the upper classes.
Isaac smiled weakly at the joke, and gave a curt, shy nod in response to his thank you. Then as the small Hufflepuff got back to his book, Isaac heard himself utter hesitantly; "it does, by the way. Get easier. Transfiguration".
- It did not do to think, really, but Timothy's impression of the upper classes - at least, the student selection - was not a particularly bright one. He didn't resent them, per se, but had taken note of how many of them - particularly Slytherins - treated everyone else as inferior, or even worse, as dirt, and expected nothing more from the rest of the high-born population. Luckily, he hadn't picked a downright horrible boy to ask for assistance from, and the other boy wasn't even a Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff House was known for sticking together and being helpful.
He was just about ready to slump over the book in hidden despair when the unfamiliar boy decided to respond to his earlier half-joke. Timothy stopped gnawing on his bottom lip for long enough to smile sheepishly. "I'll take yer word for it..." He replied, secretly hoping that the boy wasn't just trying to be encouraging and was instead telling the honest truth. Then again... He had glanced at the book the other boy had been reading, his eyes straining to decipher the cover. Arithmancy? He'd heard conversations about those kind of classes, the ones people elected for third year - Timothy would have to choose some by the end of this school year - and frankly, it sounded terrible. Extremely difficult..." 'Course, if you're comparin' it to that," - he jerked a thumb at the book hesitantly, eyeing its rather unavoidable thickness - "I s'pose Transfiguration would seem simpler...?" Perhaps Timothy was just dumb, and he hadn't even looked at that tome's pages, but it looked like the older boy had a lot more on his plate than Tim had thought he did.
It was funny how the smallest things could make the biggest difference - and this young Hufflepuff was rather small. Though, to be fair, Isaac was about the same size. He was meagre for his age. Though the second year suited his look; it gave him an edgy, nimble kind of appearance. Like a prospective Seeker.
Encouraged by the boy's interest in what he had to say, and by the fact that he had asked Isaac for help to begin with, Isaac - surprisingly - did not find it difficult to answer his question almost instinctively. "Arithmancy?" he clarified, placing one long, slim hand on the pages of the book, as if they meant everything in the world to him. "Oh no, it's wonderful. You see this?" he turned the book round so the boy could see the meticulous black-and-white drawing. "It's what looks like an equation carved on stones in a place we now call Crete. It's from 3100BC - almost 400 years before counting was even invented. Isn't that amazing?"
- Even if Hogwarts robes did not point out people's Houses with the colour of the crests on their chests, Timothy guessed he would have figured out that this boy was a Ravenclaw. Whatever the stereotypes said, they were not the only House to ever be found in the library... but this student seemed a lot cleverer than he, especially when he began spouting information about Arithmancy.
He half-thought he ought to be intimidated - and he was - but the Ravenclaw's seeming enthusiasm countered it slightly, and because he was actually going out of his way to answer a question, Tim ended up peering over at the image in the book, curious. Before counting was invented... the ancient past did have its appeal, and though the equation was completely incomprehensible to Timothy, he wondered whether numbers and problems would be easier to take to than words and writing. He raised his eyebrows slowly. Of course, it still looked awfully complicated. But Timmy nodded slowly in response to the older student's final comment. "It does look int'resting," He admitted, the curiosity counter-balancing the timidity. A hand ventured out, wanting to turn the pages, flick forwards to see more pictures, and he even inquired, "So what does it mean? Can you understand it? D'you look at this sort of stuff in lessons?" Timothy wasn't sure about the first two questions that spilled out, but the book didn't look much like a standard class textbook to him.
Gaaaaaaah so sorry for the wait!
Isaac felt an easy sort of happiness - the sort of happiness he only felt when leafing through his favourite books. So he was surprised, of course, to find himself feeling this happiness in the presence of another human being. Usually they sapped the feeling right out of the room, making Isaac feel daunted and foolish.
It was almost certainly the fact that the young boy talking to him was one of the least intimidating people he had ever met. But younger boy's inquisitiveness and lower class drawl made him seem as if he would grow in confidence in a matter of months. Perhaps he'd be an intimidating figure within the year, Isaac mused miserably. But for now, all he was was a fairly sweet child with what seemed like a genuine interest in academia.
Isaac withdrew his hands from the book so his new acquaintance would be able to turn the pages if he wanted. It was a complex book, barely even intended for OWL students, but it was full of brilliant curiosities. "We do discuss this in lessons", he replied, though "we" didn't really mean Isaac, who was very quiet in class. "And I don't understand all of it", he admitted without shame. "But that's a part of it: mystery. I think the most interesting questions are the ones we can't answer. Er, don't you think?" he added, looking for reassurance from the younger student.
- This was not really Timothy's element, and certainly not pitted against the boy who had just posed an interesting question that he couldn't even think of a way to answer. No, knowledge and learning were not his natural ways; he had grown up with a carnival, after all, and his idea of childhood had not involved books at all. Sure, he'd learnt to tumble, to do fun flips and cartwheels and hanging off swings... and he'd helped with the magical creatures, watched and found out how to take care of them... he knew a bit about juggling, and had gotten rather good at helping set up stalls and tents.
What use was any of this out in the real world? Timothy didn't know how to cope. Oh, it had all been well and good in his first year, outside of lessons, running about with the other boys for some rough-and-tumble - though Timmy wasn't quite rough in manner, if he was in upbringing - but for everything else, he was rather useless. He still managed to make friends, he supposed, though it was hard enough rebounding from all the knowing looks, the ones that immediately associated him with the circus freaks, the ones that would never look at him differently. This older boy - though he wasn't much bigger, really, just obviously more clever - seemed more preoccupied with mysterious questions of life. "That's a - uh, a good way of lookin' at it?" Timothy tried, nodding hopefully. "I 'adn't ever thought of that." He admitted, feeling suddenly and strangely cheery. Questions you couldn't answer sounded a lot better to him than the questions with an obvious right that he always seemed to get wrong.
He gingerly flicked over a few pages, motions getting more confident as he became more immersed in the intriguing subject matter - at least, that which he gleaned from the pictures. Timothy was still sure that Arithmancy sounded any easier than Transfiguration at all, which said something, for how he struggled with the latter, but the boy's obvious enthusiasm - even though he apparently didn't understand it all - coloured the subject in a slightly more positive way. "Maybe I'll pick it as a subject for next year, then..." He suggested, purely musing and doing so extremely quietly, just in case the older student had a sudden change of heart and decided it would be far more fun to laugh at his uselessness, and make a snide comment that Timmy should stop being so ridiculous.
Isaac knew untapped potential when he saw it - though like many people with even the smallest shred of wisdom, he was an enormous hypocrite who couldn't apply his own insights to himself. It felt to him as if the younger boy before him thought himself a little unintelligent. Or maybe very unintelligent. When in fact he'd said some quite clever things in the fifteen minutes they'd known one another. And some quite gracious things, which was just as important.
With this in mind, it was with some disappointment that he heard what year the boy was in. Well, he didn't outright tell Isaac - but he certainly made it clear. He had subjects to pick next year, apparently, and he certainly wasn't in fourth year - therefore, this boy was a second year. And Isaac a fourth year. Which meant that they couldn't really be friends. Hence the disappointment.
Keen as he was to keep the interest of the curious child, Isaac was struck with a sudden desire to lend him the Arithmancy book he was currently leafing through. But then he remembered that this was a library, and he could borrow it anyway - and that Isaac was actually in the middle of doing Arithmancy homework. It was amazing to think that anything could distract him from homework, but the mousy-haired second year had managed it.
"You should", he agreed with a nod of approval. "Subjects you want, not subjects you need", he added, though quickly regretted how confident this sounded. "I - I mean, unless you want to take the subjects you need". This rather undermined his own apparent wisdom.
It was just, Isaac had started to realise that while school was certainly a time for training and preparation, it was also a time to indulge curiosities and take advantage of the wealth of learning available. You were only a Hogwarts student for a comparatively small portion of your life, and so many would look back and wish they had learned more of what they were genuinely interested in.
- {Day 19 - January Challenge}
He glanced down at the new chapter he'd flicked to in the thick library book, and narrowed his eyes at some sort of South American chart or calendar, etched onto an old ruin. Briefly distracted by the couple of odd llamas in the background of the image, he glanced back up just in time to see the other boy nod.
Timothy was increasingly surprised by the older student's willingness to talk. Encouragement, even. He hadn't actually interacted with many a third year or above, but for the most part he imagined this was because their lives were far too interesting to have to stoop to converse with the young'uns. And that wasn't even getting started on the cream of society and pure of blood factors; Tim was sure that just about everyone had a reason to consider themselves above him, and being ignored wasn't even a bad thing anymore. Perhaps this Ravenclaw was just too polite to say anything. Timmy suddenly remembered that the stranger had obviously been busy before he'd interrupted, too!
Drawing his hands in from perusing the Ravenclaw's book to curb the guilt, he just about caught the next remark. For a moment, the boy seemed more authoritative, like a kindly teacher in the making, but by the next he was just a kindly student again. Still, it had put Timothy more at ease somehow. "Oh, I don't need anythin', really," He explained, for it was not as though he had high aspirations or a career lined up. He didn't expect to make it to seventh year, either, but whatever he learnt now might as least help get a job somewhere in Hogsmeade, if he stayed. He gave a sort of wry grin and then peered at the Ravenclaw in curiosity. "I s'pose there are lots of subjects, uh, you need, for whatever you're plannin' on doin' afterwards?" He imagined he could be talking to a future Healer or Ministry employee or high-flying businessman; but then again, who knew, this boy might be rich enough that he didn't even have to work, and so was just taking whatever he fancied for the sake of it. That was a thought.
Even though he was still a little nervous - it was his perpetual state, after all - what remained in Isaac's heart was a true feeling of like for this inquisitive second year. He liked him, he really did. He liked his curiosity and his work ethic, and he wished very much that it would all pay off and he would become someone great and respected in whatever field he wished to work in. But Isaac was too old these days to be ignorant of reality. The way the boy dressed, and the way he spoke... he was not - shall we say - "born lucky".
A fact confirmed by the brown-haired boy's next words. He didn't need any particular subjects - because he didn't have his career planned out already. Isaac certainly hadn't planned his own career. His father was doing that for him. He looked at the younger boy with a spark of jealousy.
"That's right", he confirmed in a quiet but - again - uncharacteristically confident voice. "So if you want to be a Curse Breaker, for example, you should work very hard on Defence Against the Dark Arts, or if you want to be a Healer you should specialise in - well, in Potions and a great many other things".
He was silently awed at himself for being able to carry a conversation the way he was, but this enjoyment was soon cut short. The librarian moved across to them quietly and hushed the pair of them.
Isaac shot an apologetic glance at the younger boy, and got back dutifully to his reading, feeling slightly sad that their conversation had been cut off so unceremoniously.
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