» Hell's Got Nothing, Open

[Ismene Swift]

In this moment, Loretta was probably gorging herself on sweets, Ismene imagined. At least, that was what the fourth year would have been doing herself, should she have had the opportunity. Instead, however, poor Issie had been sequestered in the Library since just after breakfast, having spent the meal listening to her housemates giggling about all the fun they would have in Hogsmeade that afternoon. Issie herself would have been among them, of course, had other things—horrible things—not demanded her attentions be focused elsewhere. It was, the bager knew, her own fault; she had spoken too loudly to be seemly, and her father had overheard her...discussion (in truth, it had been more of a rant) with Loretta regarding less than desirable Herbology marks she had recently received.

He had asked if she was intending to go to Hogsmeade (this, of course, had been three days prior). She had insisted that was not the case, so as to save face in Ixion’s eyes. And now she was stuck with this decision.

Now, with her friends all enjoying themselves in the village, Ismene found herself pouring over her books in some dusty corner, the library all but deserted due to the day trip. Though she had been there for the past three hours, thus far she had only accomplished half of one assignment. Whether due to disinterest or to genuine inability to perform well in the course, she could not say, but her afternoon of “work” had been something of a letdown so far, particularly when compared to what she was missing out on.

Ismene sighed, feeling as if the situation at hand was the end of the world. How could she be expected to have a life if she had to spend her days pouring over books about things that grew out of dirt? Dirt was dirty; what young lady in her right mind would want anything to do with it?

“I think you meant to say that they blossom after dusk, not after ditch,” came a voice from just behind her shoulder. The Hufflepuff nearly leapt out of her skin; whomever it was, she had not heard them approaching. Ismene’s had snapped round as she hissed—for she was, after all, in a library—“Did no one ever teach you that it is impolite to sneak up on people?!”

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[Piper O'Hara]

Piper had had rather a dull day, for all that she had begun the morning in the hopes of securing a proper adventure or two. Midway through the week, the fun of the weekend had long ago faded, and the promise of the next remained as of yet too far off to look forward to just yet. Luckily, classes had been as fascinating as ever-excepting, of course, History of Magic, during which Piper could never manage to keep her eyes open despite her best efforts-and had managed to hold her interest enough to make the hours spent learning pass fairly quickly.

Finally free, Piper had decided to slip out of her dormitory and explore the school, for even after a near year at Hogwarts, there remained many hidey-holes and secret nooks and crannies yet to discover. Halfway there, though, she had realized in passing the library that she had never been there before. As ever, her curiosity got the better of her, and the child decided to cease her wanderings for the night in favor of giving it a good look 'round.

Piper had always rather liked books, though she was nearly always too busy off doing something somewhere or other to spare time for reading. In any event, she was very deeply awed by the library's massiveness, and its elegance, and she couldn't help but breathe a soft, "Ooh." of delighted surprise as she moved farther inside. A stately looking woman wearing pince-nez scowled at her, and Piper resisted the urge to put out her tongue by way of reply.

After poking about for some time amongst the various shelves without much luck-for she was far too indecisive to choose anything with certainty-the inquisitive Piper decided to ask someone their opinion.

Having peered about the room a moment longer, her eyes settled on a slim, staid looking young lady and brown hair pinned back from her face. Resolutely, she concluded that she would ask her, and Piper crossed the room in leaps and bounds that practically had the librarian on her feet. Oblivious to the fact, Piper neared the young lady's shoulder and peered over her shoulder. She was working very diligently at something; closer inspection told her that it was Herbology-one of Piper's most dearly loved classed-and she brightened at the sight of it.

But-what was that? Why, that wasn't right at all! Piper wrinkled her nose. How strange, that an older student should make such a mistake. Luckily, Piper was forthright enough to correct her, and she did so without hesitance.

“I think you meant to say that they blossom after dusk, not after ditch,” she said matter-of-factly, poking with a slender finger at the offending sentence.

Comfortably, Piper edged around the table so that the two were facing one another and bent over an empty chair nearby, propping her chin in her hands, and her knobbly little elbows upon the tabletop. Expecting a 'thank you', she was shocked to note the obvious hostility in the young woman's response. Piper's brows knit together in consternation. "I was only being helpful." she replied stubbornly, frowning. "It's not my fault if you're jumpy."

[Lysandra Sutherland]

Piper O'Hara. The kid certainly had a chip on her shoulder--the attributes "precious" and "pretentious" all contained within a little ball of child-like fury. She seemed very well dressed by the look of it, and her intellect for her age was surpassing of most. Altogether, the little lady seemed to be the result of good breeding. To correct a fourth year in such a rude manner, however, was an accurate display of her youth. Lysandra, who was already sitting close by to witness Piper accost the studying girl, reflected as to whether she might have done the same at that age. Or even at her current age. This left Lysandra feeling a tinge of guilt for some of her now-realized social transgressions from the past.

But ultimately, Lysandra's studying had now been interrupted. And this aggravated her.

Weeks before, Lysandra's younger sister Hillary had passed away. Lysandra was given a two week leave of absence from Hogwarts to return home and grieve. For in these two weeks, time had gone in a flash. The tragic vacation seemed as if it was over before it began. Time had operated much differently than before since Hillary's death.

But the Hogwarts curriculum didn't stop for anyone. The laundry list of studies elongated like a never-ending scroll, especially at a time like April, when preparations were beginning for the end of the year testing, or when end of the year projects now required attention.

And this aggravated Lysandra. To even get up in the morning on a Saturday to study was difficult enough. To have a bratty little girl disrupt the daunting task of playing catch-up was quite unbearable.

Lysandra could not calm her harsh tone as she brandished her words like a whip at the little sprout.

"Off with you! As you can see, we are here to study. If you please, make yourself useful and leave."

It was only a matter of time before Piper had gone off to do other things.

Once rid of the young girl, Lysandra gave a sad sigh of relief. Partially for her remaining audience, who was now just Ismene, and herself, she was compelled to utter a few words into existence.

"She ought to understand the proper decorum of the library after a year, you would think?

Lysandra took another breath to think before trying to tie Ismene into her thoughts.

"Your fright had caused my own! Hopefully she did not deter you beyond return?"

Lysandra regretted her words, for she herself did not want to talk. What had she done?

[Ismene Swift]

The speaker proved to be a young girl with whom Ismene was not acquainted, and seemed rather put out by Ismene’s reaction. Thought the Hufflepuff knew that she might have reacted more violently than was called for, it was impolite both to hover over the work of another and to criticize the faults of a stranger (at least openly). Helpful the younger witch might have been trying to be, but as far as the fourth year was concerned she was merely butting in and speaking out of turn, which were both marks against her in Ismene’s books.

Though the Slytherin’s treatment of the young girl was not particularly well-mannered, either.

As the youngster departed, Ismene quickly glanced over her...rescuer? Lysandra Sutherland was something of a conundrum as far as Ismene was concerned, not in that she was particularly puzzling, but in that the Hufflepuff was completely at a loss as to how to react to her. She had always found her classmate to be rather abrasive, though had tried to do as was taught and interact respectfully with her—and so reflect well upon her own family. Lysandra, however, had proved in the badger’s eyes less and less worthy of such treatment over the years, from playing quidditch (much though Issie herself loved the sport, for a young lady to play it was positively blasphemous) to lying to those around her about her blood status. Ismene’s own mother stemmed from muggles and so she would never look down on an individual for their blood status, but to deceive those around you was another matter entirely.

And so, resulting from this, Ismene would not even hazard to suppose that the two girls were friends, so utterly different were they—but here Miss Sutherland stood, speaking to her, leaving the brunette with the difficult decision of whether to treat her charitably as a young lady should, or to inch away from her with as much grace as she could, lest she be associated with one of such behaviour.

For lack of any idea how to gracefully shun someone, Ismene Swift elected the former.

“I should not be too harsh on her,” the fourth year offered softly, generously. “For all that she was aggressive in doing so, I do believe she was merely trying to be of assistance.” As if to prove this point, Issie scratched out the offending word, correcting it with neat handwriting.

“And you, Miss Sutherland? I am sorry to have startled you with my outburst; I do hope that resuming your studies should not prove too difficult.”

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