WHO; Stewart Ackerley, Morag MacDougal, and OPEN to anyone in Ravenclaw.
WHEN; Friday, early evening.
WHERE; The Ravenclaw common room.
SUMMARY; Stewart is not amused with this fuckery. Seriously.
RATING; TBA.
WARNINGS; A very annoying third year, poisoning, and a long word count?
STATUS; In progress.
There was nothing
wrong with the music that someone had turned on earlier in the common room. It was enjoyable, after all. Nevertheless Stewart bit his lip as he let worked on an essay for Herbology—scratching out words and phrases more than he would have liked. He’d have to rewrite it once he had gotten his priorities in order. With a smile Stewart stretched out from the comfortable position he’d found in one of the chairs in the common room, and started humming a tune to a song he’d love to hear. It was such a shame that he couldn’t bring any of his music from home, because sometimes he just wanted to hear his music. It was a silly excuse but thinking that if he’d just had something to listen to he’d be all the more equipped to finish this essay on the right foot. Stewart put his book and course work on his lap as he laid out on the chair in an awkward looking manner. He wondered vaguely if he could just take a small nap here, he didn’t want to go to the dorms because the moment he would he’d most likely fall asleep for the night. It wasn’t late but the week had been long enough that he didn’t trust his will power to wake him up, and the sooner he got this down the better. Everything just seemed to be piling up on him. He let a smirk appear on his face as he thought about why he wasn’t doing his work as he normally would have.
It was then when he heard a commotion further near the fireplace. He wasn’t the only one if the common room, quite the opposite in fact. He looked up expecting to see one of the younger students arguing about someone cheating them at a game of exploding snap or something else that would make that much noise, but no. There was a third year who had somehow gotten a bottle of wine in his hand, Stewart tried to place the name and then remembered that he was Hughes—Jason Hughes. He wasn’t the most responsible Ravenclaw, and those who were older than him often questioned how the loud and obnoxious boy had gotten sorted into the house in the first place. Hughes was standing on top of a small table, a group of his friends cheering him on as he tossed some roses on the ground and started moving the wine from hand to hand. Stewart sat up and started playing closer attention, as did the remainder of the common room. How did the boy get that anyway?
“OWL FOR ACKERLEY!” Hughes laughed as he read a card in his hand. Stewart’s didn’t act embarrassed or anything of the sort but instead of reacting he just gave Hughes a look of disgust as everyone in the common room started whispering and laughing, some went back to what they were doing before hand. Could Dean have sent that? No, surely he’d know him better than to send
roses. And Stewart detested alcohol, he thought of what it’d done to his mother and how he’d never want to become something like that at all. Stewart stood up and rolled his eyes as the third years as he walked over to the items.
“Are you going to hand it over or are you keen on dropping it?” Stewart said without letting it seem like he cared to much. The boys laughed as Hughes lightly jumped off the table and elbowed his friends, still clutching to the bottle.
“
ALWAYS YOURS, who’re you dating anyway, Ackerley?” another round of laughter, “Do you mind if I have some? It’ll only be a sip! Promise.” Any sign of amusement had left Stewart’s face as the third year had taken out his wand and tapped lightly on the bottle, magically removing the wrapper and uncorking it. Stewart had planned to throw the bottle away. It wasn’t like he was a stickler for the rules—after all he’d done more questionable things—but being given detention for holding it was not high on his to do list.
“Yeah I do, hand it over.” Hughes had ignored him and started to drink straight from the bottle as his friends cheered him on. Stewart gawked openly. Third years. How could third years be like this, honestly? Third years! Stewart looked around for a prefect or
someone to stop the boys, but didn’t spot one in the immediate vicinity. The other students in the common room that were paying attention either gave Hughes a look of disgust or straight out laughed at the sight. Stewart just shook his head, where were Karston or Gelsey when you actually needed them?
Hughes had stopped drinking and stood still, looking very pale with a slight tinge of green, before he fell to his knees and started turning green. Stewart took an immediate step back, he certainly didn’t want to get vomit on his robes. Hughes started moaning loudly and retching on the ground before the vomit came. His friends went ghostly pale and a few of them had effortlessly stepped away and disappeared, only one had started to nudge Hughes with his foot, muttering something about a low tolerance of alcohol. Hughes shook his head after his sickness, and sat up trying to catch his breath while batting away his companion. “It’s—not—that!” he yelled in between convulsions. He gathered his thoughts and took a few deep breaths to make sure that he wouldn’t vomit. With that he pointed a shaky finger at Stewart and said “someone—tried—to poison
HIM,” and lied back down on the ground started groaning in anguish.
Stewart stood there shocked before the realization set in. Harper. His stomach turned and Stewart ground his teeth against one another before he felt the anger set in. That’s it. That’s it. “
That’s it!” Stewart said angrily before he caught himself and put his hand on his nose trying to calm down. This was it. He’d have to do something. He couldn’t let Harper go on with this bloody nonsense. Stewart shook his head, a frown on his face, as he bent down and pulled Hughes’ arm up to try to help the boy stand up. Although his head was still racing he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy—despite the fact that it was his own stupidity that had gotten him in that situation.
“Someone help Hughes get the Hospital wing, please? I need to go hex someone,” Stewart eyed the ones that he thought to be Hughes’ friends before shaking his head, “and no one
touch anything from that owl.”
