Post by Lance Ulrich on Apr 26, 2008 22:28:52 GMT -8
Oh, how wonderful it felt to be going back to Hogwarts. It was his final year there, and finally, somebody had got something right. He had been made head boy, and the newly established government had established the Dark Arts as a class. It was the perfect final year for him. He was at the top of his game, and he would go out in style. It had relieved him to find out that head girl was none other than Slytherin Annabelle Grey. She would be good for the job--a lot better than a lot of the other contenders in his mind.
He heaved a sigh as he looked over at the family slave who was holding his trunk. "You can put it down, girl," he said dully. "Now, make yourself invisible, why don't you?" He didn't understand the point of a slave who wouldn't make herself inconspicuous. After all, the things were worthless anyway. He loathed that he had any muggle-borns in his family line. He loathed his father for marrying someone less than pure. It meant being around filth such as these. Of course, most of his family was back in Germany, so he didn't have to deal with those who weren't pure except his mother and himself.
Lifting his chin, his hands went to his blue and silver-striped tie and pulled it tight, making sure it didn't bulge out funkily from beneath the gray sweater-vest he wore beneath black robes bearing the Ravenclaw crest and a shield that represented his position as head boy. He pulled the skirt of his robes closer to his legs so he could see his black shoes, making sure the laces were tight. He felt his hair, making sure it was firmly in place. It was, of course. The gel and charms made sure that even the breeze couldn't knock it out of place.
He turned to his mother first, resting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Don't cry, mother," he instructed, trying to meet her eyes, which was impossible with her face cast downward. "It's just like any other year. You know that."
"Yes, b-but my baby! My baby's growing up!"
"Nathalie, don't embarrass the boy. You're making a scene."
"Then let me, Kurt! I have the right. I am his mother."
"You're lucky you're even here, woman!"
"Mother, please. It's ridiculous."
"Everything I do is ridiculous to you, Christian."
Oh how he loathed his middle name. Chris-tee-awn. It was so... He couldn't think of a word for it, but he hated it, yet his mother insisted on calling him by it. Lance had been his father's choice for the name, but his mother had wanted Christian (after her brother), so they had compromised, deciding Lance Christian sounded better than Christian Lance.
"Goodbye, mother," he said, letting his hand drop from her shoulder and extend out to shake his father's hand. "Father." His father gave a nod, and Lance bent sideways, picking up his trunk before heading straight for the brick wall between platforms nine and ten, emerging to see a ton of other students busily chatting away with each other or trying to make a beeline to the train to find the best compartment. Then, there were the first years standing around in their unmarked robes and colorless ties, looking rather lost. At least magic wasn't new to any of them.
His emotionless eyes studied the scene before making his way through the crowd and onto the train, heading directly for the prefect compartment. He wanted to get promptly to work with getting things set up for how things would go when they reached the Hogsmeade station so he could relax the rest of the trip. Reaching it, he heaved his trunk up to the luggage rack and sat down near the window, staring out it boredly at the brick wall.