The Courtyard of Public Opinion

(Wrote on mobile please excuse any grammar or spelling errors!)

There were looks. But there were always going to be looks. It invariably happened to the seventh years. Their exploits had inflated with as much hot air as the rumor mill could hold, elevating them all to schoolyard legends. Stupid pranks were now daring escapades, crushes were torrid affairs, and on and on until they graduated and a new crop of seventh years became the subject of adoration and awe.

She, of course, had not helped her case by dying her hair. She wasn’t sure what the leading rumor was, but she had heard a thing or two about a mental breakdown. As far as she was concerned, that particular rumor worked in her favor. She could plead insanity.

Which she had a feeling she would have to do soon. She had been assigned detention forty minutes into the feast, possibly a new record, when she refused to cease her delivery of “Oh Captain, My Captain” after the Headmaster announced the retirement of the former Caretaker. She was sure her newest exploit would just as soon earn her detention. It was stupid, as most pranks were, but the petition to rename the Slytherin Quidditch Team as the Second Place Snakey Boys already had four signatures, and that was without any grassroots work. She strolled away from the bulletin board, smiling as she read the names, pushing her hands into her pockets as she strolled towards the front door. God, she loved this school.

She supposed her History of Magic class was probably starting right about now, but she figured she could make it up later. First day classes were recaps anyway. Besides, her perspective was that Hogwarts was her escape, the place she could be herself and enjoy her life. History of Magic didn’t fit in with that worldview.

The question of course was where to go. Almost as a reflex her feet led her outside, towards the Quiddith pitch, but she forced herself to reroute. She was training hard, but she didn’t want anyone to know just how hard. She knew it would start all sorts of talk about her taking this year’s Cup too seriously and while that might have been partially true, it wasn’t the full truth. She didn’t need anyone to pick up on just how desperate she was to improve her averages. That conversation led places that also didn’t fit in with her Be You and Have Fun worldview.

She found herself gravitating towards the sunny courtyard, beelining towards her favorite spot. Within a few moments, she had conjured a hammock and strung it up between a tree and a castle pillar, tossing herself into the canvas to swing at ease. Sunglasses were procured and a song hummed in her throat, ignoring the glances of younger students wondering: what was going on with Dyllan? Let them wonder. She was going to have a good year, dammit, if it was the last thing she did.

The looks had all fallen on her last year. The new girl who for some reason had chosen to attend school here despite her mother being an instructor at Beauxbatons. Last night she had seen those same looks fall upon Jack as her mop of red hair that she had even grown accustomed to seeing was suddenly pitch black. It was definitely something to talk about since everyone knew Jack for her pranks, and her red hair.

Christy had been sent into a fit of giggles at her rendition of “Oh Captain, My Captain” at the feast. It never failed, Jack could find some way to make her laugh, if for nothing else how foolish she acted for what seemed to be the case of just to be foolish. Christy of course had been one of the first people to sign her petition to rename the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Something about Second Place Snakey Boys just seemed to flow better to her. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact she was on the Ravenclaw team.

Like Jack, she knew she was supposed to be in History of Magic, however with the new system of teaching across the year groups, she honestly had no desire to go. There wasn’t going to be anything the professor could teach her on the first day that she herself did not already know. Probably not the best idea for someone who had signed up to be a teaching aide in any of the classes to do, but at the moment she just could not force herself to go.

Walking through the grounds, she eventually found herself standing in the courtyard. The walk had seemed to clear her head a bit, and she would make it to her next class. After all, she was no longer the scared new student acclimating to a new school this year. She had people around her this time aside from her cousin Sophia to show her the ropes.

Her eyes fell upon the mop of black hair poking out of a hammock. Just the way the hair fell around the face she knew exactly who it was. Everyone’s favorite class clown. Taking it upon herself she walked over to her, “So I’m taking it, this means you’re going to want my notes again this year?” She looked at her hair. It was so strange to her to see her with black hair versus the usual red. “Black?” she asked curiously. “New form of rebellion?”

She didn't even bother opening her eyes, instead letting out a long scoff. "Well, can hardly borrow your notes if you don't attend your classes." She opened one eye, a wink comically frozen on her face. She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "I have to say, I expected more out of you. Whittle."

This is what she did. She pulled people's legs, she made her jokes. She had no idea where she got her sense of humor from. Certainly not her parents, that much she knew was sure. Her mother probably hadn't made a joke in thirty years. It was probably living in a humorless home, a void for joy, that made her develop her keen senses for toilet humor and trash talk. Someone had to get in trouble, may as well be her.

She yawned at Christy's question, further stretching out and placing her hands behind her head, pointing her toes and quaking her muscles in an attempt to release some of her tension. "Meh, black is the new red, or something," she said, heaving a shrug and smirking up at the blonde. "Grab some grass, relax it up. First rule of skipping class is to be relaxed. Speaking of - doesn't sound very conducive to the role of teacher's aide to not be in class."

“Not really a fan of the teaching across the years in each class,” she replied. “Which means the first day is introduction to it as well as a recap of what everyone learned last year. You benefit that more than I do Dyllan.” She knew Jack was only teasing with her and seeing the wink on her face she couldn’t help but to let out a small laugh. She was certain Jack would not be the type of person her parents would approve of her hanging around, but who can resist gravitating towards the people who never fail to make you laugh?

She didn’t have to worry about her teaching aide position unless she was caught, “That would be why I don’t plan on being caught, or at the very least having an excuse.” She said as she said down on the ground. “Besides, half the school skips classes the first day.” Lie. Only a hand full of people skipped on the first day, and they were generally like the very two sitting in the courtyard. They either just didn’t like the class, or they already knew what it was going to be and thought why bother?

No, Jack definitely wasn’t the type of person either of her parents would approve of her being around. Probably the allure of attempting to befriend her. She actually found herself laying back on the grass, “So, Second Place Snakey Boys?” she asked laughing a little, “Your doing?”

"I think children need their creativity stoked if they're expected to flourish," she said, in a nasally, mocking voice. One of her professors in muggle primary had always talked to them all like that, peddling her pedagogy as though they weren't there. Jack had taken to lecturing the students after her own pranks or jokes, preaching why they all needed to loosen up and how imperative it was to their development that they all take ten minutes a day to sit under their desks. "I benefit far more from some rest and relaxation in the sun."

"Always need an excuse handy. I volunteer, you can say you were trying to talk me off my... hammock. Get back to class. A battle for Jack Dyllan's soul!" She raised a fist into the air, before letting it flop painfully onto her chest.

Jack lifted her head and gasped. "What? Someone did that? Who would do that to Keiran! He doesn't deserve such treatment. Ah, well, what can you do?" she sat back and smirked to herself. It was stupid but it was going to piss him off so much.

"So, last year. Has the ennui hit you yet?"

Why did it not surprise her to see her mocking someone who actually made some sort of sense. The idea wasn’t wrong by any means, but coming from Jack, it just seemed almost as if it was an oxymoron in a way. She, probably the most creative person in the school, at least when it came to pranking almost made Christy laugh. Almost. She wondered just how well Jack would actually do if she had taken a fraction of the energy she put into her pranks and jokes, and had placed it into actually studying. A novel idea that she knew putting forward to Jack would be met with cynicism.

“Honestly you would probably benefit from paying a bit of attention in classes.” She said honestly. “Far more than you would asking me for notes or to see my assignments.” It wasn’t that she didn’t mind Jack seeing her notes and things like that, it was that she saw actual potential if she just put forth the tiniest bit of effort.

“I’m sure that will go over well by the way,” she scoffed, “A battle for your soul that will inevitably end with me losing.” She laughed at that notion, “I’m quite sure you’d have me corrupted by the time it was all said and done Dyllan.”

“Well hypothetically did you?” she asked her, “Because I might have hypothetically signed it and passed it around the entire Ravenclaw team this morning.” She thought they would honestly get a few laughs out of it, which they did. Far more than what she was expecting.

“Not yet, not sure if it will honestly.”

Jack made a raspberry noise at the suggestion she try in class. She did sometimes. She wasn't like Margo Richards, who was probably only passing because professors didn't have the patience to keep her another year. She wasn't half bad at Potions, and she loved Care of Magical Creatures, and damn if Herbology wasn't usually a blast. In another world, one where people didn't focus so much on telling her how she was messing up, she might have actually wanted to be a good student. But she knew herself. That wasn't her ticket out of her home.

"Work smart, not hard," she said, placing a finger in the air. She realized this plan was contingent on Christ working hard but, eh. Too each their own.

"Me? A corrupting influence! Please, I'm an angel."

Her mom's words were pressing against her temple from deep inside her mind and she squirmed in the hammock to banish them. She turned over to look at Christy, forcing an even bolder smirk on her face to keep those nasty memories at bay. "Hypothetically, I think you understand the importance of a good cause."

The fact Jack planned on Christy working hard was not a surprise. The though had crossed her mind that she could just stop working on assignments and classes altogether, but that would be such a scandal. The pretty transfer student who seemed to be able to work on assignments in her sleep stop? That might would end up being the talk of the school. It would be exactly something she would do if she were like Jack with school, but she wanted to do her best. In fact, what she wanted to do once she finished school relied heavily on her doing the best she could in her classes. They certainly wouldn’t hire a professor that had been lackadaisical in their own studies as a student.

“Don’t blow raspberries at me, you know I’m right about that.” She replied. “And the problem is outside of fun classes you don’t work smart. You coast by. Merlin.” She sighed. It was like talking to a brick wall in that respect and she knew she would get by with a change of subject in that respect.

“Oh and if we were caught skipping classes together you know good and well they would find some way to blame it all on you.” She told her laughing. “It’s ok, I’m overdue for a bit of rebellion honestly.”

She grinned almost mischeviously at Jack, “Hypothetically I may need a few more copies to get spread around. You know for scientific reasons.”

“Sure I do,” she said, the edge of defiance in her otherwise bored tone. She shifted again, enjoying the feeling of the canvas web beneath her back, running across the muscles in her back that had been given a vigorous workout just the night before. She was hoping that by the end of the semester she would look visibly strong. That would go a ways with the recruiters.

She clarified. “I work smart by only working on things worth my time. For example, I’m trying to work on my beauty rest, something I’m in desperate need of. Far more important than History of Magic.” Anyone who met Jack knew she didn’t give a damn about beauty but she could sure use the rest. Already, she knew this year was going to be a long one.

It was with the smallest of flourishes that Jack produced another petition, handing it to Christy with a smirk. "Rebel away, I'm sure, hypothetically, this will just encourage Keiran to do his best. Which he'll need to, because otherwise they're toast."

She felt her eyes almost roll into the back of her head hearing Jack’s reply. She had to remind herself that not everyone had lived to strict schedules and a demand to do their legitimate best or face severe disappointment. Disappointment that Christy knew she was going to cause by the end of the year either way. She just really hadn’t said anything to anyone about her plans.

“Maybe you and I can come to some sort of an arrangement.” She said looking at Jack. “I’m curious.” Hearing her talk about beauty sleep she almost laughed out loud, but reigned it in. The lack of sleep showed on her face enough to know that Jack could definitely use a few extra hours. “I’d be willing to exchange custom notes and such for it.”

She gauged her face trying to figure out and gauging her reaction to how she took it as she took the petition from Jack and secreted it away in her bag. She would get it passed around between classes and knew of a few people who would sign it just to get a good laugh out of it. “To be honest, I’m more terrified of you on the pitch than him. Been a long time since I’ve seen anyone hit a bludger like you do.”