Not what I intended

[Connor Manning]

It was one of those slow days that seemed to drag on, going on forever. Lessons had been boring, almost to the point of excruciating pain for Connor. They hadn’t gone over anything new or interesting, instead just reviewing some of the things that were sure to be on the exams at the end of the year. While he knew the information was useful to him as an almost seventh year, he was lacking real ambition to pay attention to the review work. He had even pushed aside his homework in favor of lounging around the common room instead.

It was actually quiet, something that put the Prefect on his guard. Where were the first and second years running around like mad? Where were the upperclassmen causing trouble and getting into things? He couldn’t see anyone, and as his paranoia went down slightly, Connor tossed his black back pack down on one of the armchairs, turning and rounding the couch, flopping himself down onto the leather furniture. He rolled over onto his side, turned in towards the back of the couch rather than towards the fire in front of him. It was kind of warm in the common room, creating a slightly hazy environment for the sixteen year old.

He didn’t really intend to fall asleep, but with mixed and tangled thoughts about everything going on in his life, it wasn’t much of a surprise that the heat took over slightly, causing Connor to doze off. He slept silently for the most part, giving an occasional ‘ humph…. ‘ noise as he moved his right arm over his head, the crook of his elbow covering his eyes. He was too unaware, and unconscious, to notice someone else coming into the common room.

[[ OPEN ]]

[Dariusz Greenbaum]

((Hope you don't mind if I join?))

It was the sound of wheels that proceeded the boy: hard wheels over cold stone, grinding away at themselves and the floor like the consistent shrumming of an iron machine left to labor in the crawlspace and whisper through the cracks.

When the darkness of the corridor finally pulled back from the miniscule boy, and the green of glow of the room permitted him to be seen (if anyone was looking,) the face that the light lit on was like flint. His lips were set. His eyes stared forward, through the floor and into earth, drinking the shape of the room as if by silent echolocation - never directly looking at anything, pupils never touching the room. If he was aware that Connor was there, he gave no sign.

When he and the rolling luggage that provided his musical accompaniment finally reached a plush green chair situated by the fire, Dariusz collapsed into it like a pile of broken sticks. For a moment, he sat there slumped, staring into the ceiling with the eyes of an emptied seer.

Then he couldn't stand to be slumping any longer, and sat up straight, gripping the armrests to keep himself in place.

Dariusz had been angry since Poland. He had been angry in Germany, he had been angry in Belgum, he had been angry in London and over the North Sea. A low, angry growl escaped his stomach; when Dariusz was angry, he did not eat.

Sighing, the boy tilted forward over his stomach like an accordion releasing air, until he was face to face with the ancient rolling steamer trunk that had been his companion for all of the trip. Reaching down, he flipped open the lid and peered inside. After a moment's decision, he removed from within it a cloth bag. From the bag he removed an oval loaf of bread (it still smelled fresh,) and a smashed clock. Taking the soft bread within his fingertips, he twisted it in his hands, examining every flake and crack of crust that crackled over the whiteness inside.

He looked down at the clock with its broken casing and shattered face, then sighed again, unaware of his breathing. He was tired of being angry.

Ripping a palm-sized chunk of bread from the loaf, he took from it a careful, toe-sized bite. This prompted another, and another, which slid down his throat warm. With a subconcious, subaudible grunt of satisfaction, Dariusz took out his wand, placed his bread down on the cloth bag, and began to work.

[Connor Manning]

Connor stirred slightly in his sleep, extending his legs the length of the couch and stretching out comfortably. He was unaware of his present company, because if he had been he probably would have greeted them with a decent hello. The Prefect mumbled things every so often to himself, it was slightly inaudible and something along the lines of ' figgy newts. '

Just as the seventeen year old was muttering to himself under his breath as he slept, a large sized owl bypassing a small first year and making its way into the common room. The bird fluttered about, looking desperately for the person it was supposed to deliver it's letter to. It flew about the room, landing on several tables and spilling papers all across the floor, sending a couple of seventh years cursing the owl away. Finally, though, it found it's target and landed on Connor's head with a relieved ' hoot. '

This was quite shocking to Connor, though, and he woke with a start. " Whozzere? " He asked, shooting up into a sitting position as his hands immediately went to the bird that was perched atop his head. He lifted the bird off, gave a loud, " OUCH! " when it wouldn't let go of his hair, and finally set it down on a table next to the couch. " What the hell... " He muttered, reaching for the letter and sending the owl on it's way. What a way to wake up...

[Dariusz Greenbaum]

Startled by the owl which had swooped into the room like a feathery rocket, Dariusz nearly dropped the clock and wand, juggling with them awkwardly for a few seconds before catching them between his knees; the clock's innards crunched sickeningly, making Dariusz wince. Even before it had been broken, it had been a particularly delicate piece.

When he saw that the owl flapping around the room like a manic bat, knocking over papers and suddenly veering for a sixth year's head with claws outstretched, a bolt of fear ripped through Dariusz. Bolted from his seat, he dove for the owl, the clock dropping from between his knees and smashed to pieces on the cold stone floor. Grabbing onto the couch arm, he stopped himself short as he saw the previously sleeping sixth year calmly take the (neither rabid nor flesh-eating) owl off his head and put it onto the table beside the couch. To judge by what he was mumbling to himself, he was neither hurt nor completely conscious yet; it had been no emergency.

Coughing softly in surprise, Dairusz removed himself from the couch arm and brushed off his robe sleeves, murmuring a compulsive, "Sorry." Glancing back down at the dungeon floor, where one of his father's masterpieces lay shattered, he carefully lowered himself to the floor and began gathering up the pieces.

Feeling awkward, he heard words come from his mouth. "A shame that it is so difficult to teach owls manners... I am sorry that I didn't catch it before it bothered you; I doubt that was a pleasant way to wake up. Is there no one who sorts the mail at Hogwarts?" he asked, looking up at the boy somewhat apologetically.

[Connor Manning]

The Prefect didn't know what to think, he saw a short figure of a long haired boy just off to the side of the couch, looking just as shocked as Connor felt. He didn't realize it, but in the rush to get the owl off of him and the effort it had taken to look around he had crinkled the envelope that was addressed to him. He barely gave it any thought, though as he lifted himself from the couch, feeling himself becoming more awake by the second. He looked back to the younger Slytherin boy, hearing a low mumbled ' sorry. '

" What for? " He asked, scratching his chin subconsciously as he noticed for the first time the broken clock. It had been some time since Connor had seen a clock like that and he peered down at the pieces that were strewn across the floor of the common room. He was yet to make the connection between the commotion with the owl and the broken clock and was left wondering how the clock had come to its current state.

" Not that I know of. It's alright, though, I'm not so sure that anyone could have stopped that owl. " Now that the bird was out of the air, though, it seemed rather calm and in an almost serene-like state, preening its feathers as it patiently sat waiting to be let back out of the Slytherin common room. " What happened to your clock? " It was easy to tell that it meant something to the boy, why else would he have it with him?

[Dariusz Greenbaum]

Dariusz looked up at Connor with a hint of uncertainty, not certain how to explain why he had apologized. It occurred to him that, honestly, he did not know, so in response he only grunted and shrugged, laying pieces of the delicate, smashed machinery on the table next to his chair in an orderly fashion, lining the debris up gear by gear, rod by rod and spring by spring. Brieftly, he held each peice up to the light before laying it down; they flickered dully in front of his eyes, which looked at each as if they were complaining quietly.

At the older boy's mention of the own, Dariusz looked over at the bird nervously. It was almost the size of the his entire torso. The quiescence with which it sat on the table made Dariusz nervous - it was like a dramatic pause in a horror story. The silence seemed to exist only for the purpose of being slashed to pieces. "You are probably right," he agreed, voice low and wary.

When the older boy addressed him again, Dariusz's eyes flickered back to him, bright again. "I had brought the clock here to fix it, after it was... damaged," he chose the word carefully, "back home. This was my responsibility," he added, stone serious in the second he said it. He bit his lip, looking nervous, before he continued. "Unfortunately, when I sat down to fix it here, I was..." startled. A thought of feathers flurrying, claws clacking, beaks snapping; in his mind, the huge owl, blown up to the size where it could knock over recliner chairs with a wingbeat, raged madly inside the stone common room. "... Clumsy, and dropped it," he decided to say. Looking down at the floor, he picked up a segment of the carefully adorned casing, then looked at what remained on the floor sadly: chips of gold. Some of the clock's trimming had come off when it cracked, and it was beyond his ability to transfigure more. He licked a finger, sticking it to the ground as he tried to collect every crumb. Perhaps if he placed it just right, he could fix it back on.

Looking back up at the older boy, Dariusz suddenly felt awkward; he determined that this must have been because he was being rude. "I am Dariusz," he introduced himself. "Dariusz Greenbaum. I don't believe we've met before - I'm sorry it had to be right after you were so unpleasantly awoken," he said sadly, placing the case down on the table next to the other parts, then carefully plucking gold dust from his finger onto the table.

[Connor Manning]

Connor glanced up to watch as the owl exited the common room by flying over the head of a young student. Good riddance. He thought to himself with a slight smile, remembering that he had yet to even open the letter that had caused the disturbance in the first place. He opened the envelope as he glanced back to the younger boy, evidence of his inquisitive nature showing in his eyes, as it just seemed odd to him to spot a student to be repairing a clock. Connor knew people had different hobbies and all, he was just surprised. It didn't seem like something he would personally do to pass the time, but to each his own he supposed.

In a way, it was actually kind of cool, and Connor felt bad for it's damage, as he was unsure whether or not he had caused any of it. " How would you fix something like that? " Connor asked, sitting down on an armchair opposite of the kid as he watched him gather some gold flakes of paint from the floor. The sixth year quirked his head to the side, still wondering why someone as young as the boy before him would have the responsibility to fix something as important looking as the clock. The Prefect knew there was always the ' reparo ' spell, but he had a feeling that it would be more complicated than that. Several questions ran through his mind, although the main one was ' why? ' Did he fix clocks for fun or was it something he had to do? From the way he had mentioned it being his ' responsibility ' Connor got the feeling that it was more of a job type deal.

There was no real way to know than ask, and just as he was about to, the small boy introduced himself as Dariusz Greenbaum, a name that Connor had to wrap his mind around on. " S'no worries. Nice to meet you Dariusz. I'm Connor Manning. I'm... " He trailed off as he finally looked to the envelope and opened it. A small note from his sister fell out, and he didn't take the time to read it now. If it was small, then it must not be too urgent. Bella had a way of droning on when something went wrong or when she was worried, so it must be something small like a new puppy or a kitten for her and her soon to be husband. He slid both the note and the envelope into his pocket as he looked back up to Dariusz. " Huh. Anyway, is that a family name or something? " He had never heard of it before.