» Denier, open

[Stephen Quirrell]

Stephen was a known denier of all things fantastic. He had turned sixteen in late April and the boy had hoped his parents and family members had just forgotten. He was denying that they probably knew but they probably despised him. He was just a boy. He was still in school as a prefect and a Chaser for the Quidditch team, and things were going well for him in Slytherin house. Unfortunately, Steve knew he was more uninterested than half of the student body of all ages. There was no motivation and the boy had already written letter that came back with a bit of a nasty tone. As long as he was doing well in school he was ordered to stay in the walls of Hogwarts.

The boy sauntered through the slums and found a tree. He plopped down under it and grabbed a few blades of grass that were nearest to his hands. The sixteen year old was bored and hopelessly lost in his future. Stephen was so lost. Plucking the grass, the boy anted nothing more than to leave the slums. He knew that he could not leave his family to suffer without him being able to make money. It bothered him that his drunkard of a father could not keep a steady job. The greatest part of the summer meant that Stephen could do odd jobs and stuff money into the family fund that was slowly shrinking because of his father's alcoholism. Stephen hated it. He just wanted to socialize. He just wanted friends. Friends would be welcome. Friends were good things to have as a teenager.

[Petal]

It would seem even house elves have days off from time to time, even if they are rather rare. The frequency of their leisure time is usually controlled by the sways of mood of their masters, and on this particular day Jezabella Morgan, Petals master, was experiencing a kindly sway of mood that suggested her house elf should be free of tasks for the day. The burlesque dancer was also tiring of the creatures presence considerably, so shooing it out the door was quite the relief indeed.

But how would a house elf like Petal use free time this fine afternoon? Usually a spot of flower picking was enough to capture her focus, or an impromptu tea party with imaginary friends – though those took quite a bit of effort to successfully host. However, something in the air was quite different today – there was a scent of adventure, a feeling uncommonly felt in the race of house elves. To be fair, her reasoning behind such a wish was that she could find different flowers outside of the carnival site, well groomed flower beds and rose bushes awaited her. She hadn’t come across anything quite as pleasant as that for a while.

However, a house elf must keep in mind in the occasion of being unable to apparate due to not having actually been to certain locations before, that many humans don’t look kindly to seeing a sub-human casually totter up the cobbles of their High Street, or drag their crooked bodies against the manors of the rich, and if a human was to see a house elf casually walk hither and thither they would be extremely displease, no doubt expressing it. Therefore, Petal was cleverly only visit the slums to scavenge for flowers, as she had been reliably informed by experience that poorer people don’t mind too much about such creatures as she wandering around. With the upper class, her existence in general is all very hush-hush.

The little house elf has been wandering, but her spindly legs didn’t tire. She was on a quest, for that was an exciting way of thinking about a more or less mundane hobby. Petal was having fun, she was smiling, and hadn’t felt quite so uplifted as she did now, care freely popping her little bonce round bushes and over fences. Of course, it was the Slums, and there was hardly a clean patch of grass, never mind an undisturbed pocket of flowers. However, this did not dampen her spirits, and she was quite certain she’d be able to find something .

Lo’ and behold, round a particularly grungy bend was a tree. Yes, Petal! A tree! It wasn’t a tree bearing blossom, or fruit, or even a single spruce of daisy below it, but it was the greenest thing the little house elf had seen since she had left the carnival that morning. However, below this enlightening visage of nature, was a human boy, tearing at the grass he was sitting on. The little house elf gasped, flinching, and nearly stretching out a hand to stop him. It was probably one of only grassy spots the slums had! He can’t just take it away!

With a crestfallen countenance, Petal cautiously scuttled forward – but did not say a word to the human. She instead sat on the opposite side of the tree, just thankful she had found something moderately pleasing in this little venture. She softly mumbled to herself.

“Petal likes trees. Trees…No flowers… but tree, tree is pleasant enough for Petal.”, her little arms relaxed by her sides as rested herself against the bark. It was of no doubt that drunkard human had urinated against this at some point, but Petal was unaware of such grim, unsavoury occurrences, even forgetting for a moment that the young wizard was sharing the tree with her.

[Stephen Quirrell]

This hairless creature touched him. Its pink skin and strange mannerisms led the boy to unveil the disgusting thing as something called a house elf. Stephen was repulsed by it. He scrunched his nose up and pulled his hands away. “Stephen doesn’t care if Petal likes trees,” the sixteen year old boy hissed to the disgusting creature. “How can the likes of you tell me what I can or cannot do?” Stephen frowned. The creature was even below him on the totem pole of the social ladder. Why it was doing in the slums was of little care to the boy. “Leave me alone,” Stephen requested.

Stephen turned his head to the grass near his left hand and started plucking that, too. He was damned for a life of work. He could not wait to try and raise a social class by getting a job in the Ministry. He kept his grades up enough that he could go and become and Auror if he wished and tried hard. He could work in the Beast, Being, and Spirit Division at the Ministry if he wanted to. Again, Stephen also had the option of becoming an Obliviator or Hit Wizard if he wanted to do that, too. It was difficult to find out a set career he wanted, but he had a while. At the end of this year, his sixth year at Hogwarts, Stephen could depart for the summer to gain a hopefully successful internship at one of the places of business in Hogsmeade.

He hoped the vile creature would leave him alone long enough for Stephen to resume denying everything good in life. He was good at that. If Stephen was excellent at anything, it was denying everything about the “good life” of the Victorian era.

OOC: I apologize for the wait and for the length!

[Petal]

Petal jumped from her comfy place at the foot of the tree, the sudden hostility frightening her something awful. Had she even been addressing or talking to the boy, had she even touched him? The house elf could not recall, perhaps she did so accidently without realising, or perhaps she forgot, for she was silly, stupid, silly and stupid indeed! Slightly scared, she inched away from the grassy patch belonging to the ill-tempered human, shortly scampering away into the alleyway. If only she could feel the friendly flame of rebellion as she had with the other ill-tempered woman she had encountered before, perhaps that would save her from the indignity of being shouted away from a pleasant perch. However, that was not to the house elf code – Petal knew her place, and today her place was certainly not under that particular tree.

She scuttled here and there, searching for a similar spot but knowing in her heart of heart that there was none. So instead she apparated, feeling it the wisest option currently available to her. The remarks made towards her in the slums had disheartened her considerably, making it quite futile to continue her merry search for flowers or sitting places. There was quite a comfortable sitting place at home, atop her potato sack, and there was enough flowers in her tent to heighten her damped spirits. Though no doubt a human word here and there will strike again, conjuring another cloud upon an otherwise sunny day. But Petal knew her place, indeed, Petal knew her place very well.

However, seconds before apparating, she felt like she was missing something. Something in her pockets. Something that was quite heavy that had been in her pockets. How strange, when her chest grows weight with sadness, she is in fact, physically, carrying less. She quietly scampered back to the tree to investigate, turning the sharp bend she had fled down not moments before. The boy, was of course, still sitting there, being quite the grump-a-lump of a human. Never the matter, Petal would be stealthy, for it was not a sink, coo coo-clock or house she was looking for. But a mere, quiet, pocketed ring. Pick-pocketed, of course, from a carnival goer the evening before.

She tiptoed, though the crunch of unhealthy grass could give her away to well-trained ears. Her spindly fingers grazed the area, searching for the glint of gold, teeth biting her lips in concentration. Lo’ and behold, she had found it, and was lowering her hand to grab the small piece of jewellery. It seemed quite expensive, she was planning to gift it to her master, or attach it to a bouquet, though thought the latter unwise since she had stolen it from a upper class human woman, the type that might decide to purchase the bouquet that included the ring. Chances were small, but it had occurred before. Nevertheless, as long as she does not disturb the human, and successfully collects the ring within this second, she could apparate safely home after such a long, grubby journey through the Slums. Hopefully.

Tag: Justus | Words: 510 | Notes:sorry for crappy writing

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