Witty Tittle

Name

On a day where there was every care in the world it was incredibly easy to ignore. But on a day like today, a day where he had absolutely zero cares, it was impossible to avoid thinking about it. Though, he often reminded himself it's only technically half a name. He shrugged to hide the pain, and passed her what she wanted.

"I feel that when the first years fear you before they even meet you is a point towards living up to my so-called legacy." he mused.

Another instance where they were different but the same. He couldn't help but chuckle at the situation he found himself in. And how many of those who he shared a namesake with would react quite negatively to sharing a joint with a Gryffindor. Not just any Gryffindor, but the Gryffindoriest Gryffindor he could think of.

"Then again, all I do is have the scary name..." he added as an afterthought

"Well, at any rate, lets hope the two of us leave our own powerful legacy." he smiled as he opened his book to peruse the table of contents. The words only making half-sense.

Hogwarts, like any school, had a strict social hierarchy and scores of rules for determining your place. The name on your trunk sorted you immediately into Nobody, Infamous, or Likely Respectable. The name Potter was sorted into Likely Respectable, Lestrange into Infamous, and Dyllan into Nobody. She supposed the Nobody, in a lot of ways, was the easiest of the lot. You could distinguish yourself from an even playing ground, or stay anonymous - which is, arguably, the safest condition in a school full of angsty teens with magic.

But how do you prove you are not a bloodthirsty monster?

It was a point in which she couldn’t properly empathize, though she could sympathize. She answered his musing with, “You also roll a mean joint. Don’t undersell yourself too much.” She offered him a lopsided smirk as she pushed herself up, taking another puff.

She wondered if her Dad had ever smoked weed. She could not imagine her born again mother ever trying it, but maybe Dad, back before her mother sucked out his soul.

“Hope is for dummies,” she quoted, though she couldn’t remember where it was from. She moved forward to stick her legs deeper into the lake, her jeans beginning to soak. She kicked her feet softly, causing ripples. “And the future is shite. Have fun now is my motto,” she lifted the spliff as though to toast to the thought, but as she turned back to hand it back to him she saw Matt pull out a book. “Am I boring you? Here I grace you with my company and you’d rather study? How dare you."

"Oh I know I can roll a good joint. It's about the only bloody way I can get Shane Crawford to let me copy his Astronomy homework." he added looking up from his book.

Dare he take another drag? He had intended on only finishing half of the joint but that was, of course, before company arrived. Any more and he most certainly would not be doing much reading. As she posed her question he slowly closed the book and stared at the joint in her fingers. Taking a few moments to mull it over in his mind he put the book down and slowly shuffled down closer to the water with her. "1001 Curses" could wait another day.

Removing his own shoes and socks he rolled up his pants and placed his legs also in the water. It was chilly but it also felt nice. He wasn't convinced it was quite swimming temperature but it seemed as though that was Jack's original intention. He took the remainder of the J and took another long puff, leaving enough for one more for her. He held it out to her.

"Is this really all it takes for peace between houses?" he pondered out loud. "A Gryffindor and a Slytherin sharing some magical kush down by the great lake. If my ancestors could see my now..." he trailed off.

"Well, here's to living in the moment there, Dyllan." he leaned back and put his arms behind his head, feat in the water. Enjoying the moment.

"Crawford's always been stingy," Jack mused, wiggling the joint as Matt considered. Finally she won out (or rather the weed did) and he took the spliff from her, abandoning the book. Jack’s crooked smile betrayed that wicked streak within her, but really the joy was in the fruits of chaos. There was no better sign that the world was one of chaos and mystery than the odd comfort between two people so different.

As he scooted over, Jack reached back to grab her bookbag, dragging it across the grass, thoroughly unconcerned with grass stains. The bag could not get any dingier than it already was anyway. She plunged a hand inside, searching around for the sandwich she had wrapped up at lunch. She had to rifle through a small mountain of pranking tools and crumpled parchment before she found it.

She peeled back the three napkins to reveal a turkey swiss and lifted it towards him, offering to tear half off for him. “Some good weed can solve a lot of problems,” she mused back, as she bit into her sandwich. Through mouthfuls she said, “It has its own kind of magic.” Through mouthfuls she said, “No offense taken but I hope they’re rolling their graves.”

She hummed her agreement to the sentiment, chewing on the thought as she chewed through the sandwich, lazily swirling her feet in the cold water. Finally she said, “If you were a muggle what would you aspire to? I hate the ‘What are you going to be when you grow up’ question because I don’t know I’ll even make it to adulthood, but I always wonder where our lives would end up without magic.”

The gasp was unintentional. Under normal conditions he was more resigned in his own emotions but at the sight of food his inebriated mind betrayed him. He sat up and took his own half, mentally praising her for toasting the bread. It really was quite a good sandwich. Then again, he was stoned, so any sandwich would have tasted good. However, this sandwich in particular was special because it would be all he would eat until dinner. He was well passed the point of returning to the castle for lunch in a few hours. Best not risk any of the teachers meeting him in his current state. Early on in his experiments with magical marijuana he thought he could pass better but after a close call with a prefect he understood where his limits were.

"Being perfectly honest I would be a useless muggle." he said between his own bites. "Granted most muggles are useless, no offense."

Then he paused.

"Actually, Duffy did tell me that muggle fairy tales often mimic our world. I imagine I could come up with some really interesting shit for muggle children to gush over." he added taking another bite. He had never thought about that sort of thing before. He barely enjoyed thinking about his own future but a fictional future where he was a muggle certainly distracted his mind from other problematic topics. The whole concept of muggle life was foreign to him just as the Lestrange life was foreign to her. He had been taught from an early age that muggles were beneath them and, event though it made sense in his mind, it was more fun to rebel and think about muggles as more "wizard adjacent". Of course they weren't as powerful as witches and wizards but he had seen and read about the muggle side of the World Wars and the destruction they caused. As far as he was concerned his family was no better than those muggles.

"What about you? If you had never gotten your letter? Any family business or legacy of your own to take over?"

She was not often in the position to please but he was staring at the sandwich as though she had just saved his life. Her shoulders were relaxing and the water trickling against her legs was feeling exceptionally good - so yeah, the weed was starting to kick in. She had never liked Past Jack so much as she did during that first bite.

“I mean, we’ve accomplished a thing or two. Landing on the moon comes to mind. Electricity, which you lot hardly ever use for some insane reason. Mobile phones. Video games.” She was playing a part, teasing as she ever so seriously listed.

The slip of the tongue, the we versus you, was not something she meditated on, far too ignorant on her inner machinations to make a study of it. The fact that five years in she still felt more muggle than magic could reveal a bit about how hostile the world still was. Harry Potter had defeated the bad guy, but the principes existed, just beneath the surface. Over the past decade or so, the muggle-haters had begun to rally their courage, take office, beginning to espouse those views. It was not as bad as it had been, one hoped it never would be again, but she still felt on the outside of magical society.

“Children’s book author would not have been any of my first fifty guesses,” Jack admitted, a bit pleased to have been surprised. As uninterested as she was in her classmates, she had an intuitive nature and felt few of them could shock her. He doubled down and his question caused a spontaneous bark of laughter. “Right, yeah, either join the illustrious life of selling shitty electronics or follow Mum into being a nutcase.”

She hadn’t actually considered it, never actually considering the question would be turned on her. “Maybe a mechanic? I could rock some coveralls and a wrench. For a long time all I wanted was a car. But I doubt I’d keep a job, I’m the worst. Probably end up just taking some job as a mover or courier or something. I’m not exactly ambitious.”

It was a lie. Anyone who saw her on the Quidditch field could see the thirst for success, her desire to rise above, to be the best. Her schoolwork though? Not so much.

"I hear being a nutcase comes with benefits. If you look at my aunt she had it going pretty good for a while, then...she didn't" he pointed out. "I will admit that whole moon thing is alright, though."

Though not the most adept at understanding the common man he did know a thing or two about handling oneself when it came to absent parents. There was just something off about the way Jack spoke about her parents that peaked his interest. It was the way he spoke about his own father inside of his head. He of course was not offered the same freedom she was to talk poorly on her parents, legacy after all. Perhaps he was a little jealous of the liberties she took.

"I've heard whispers of an enchanted car roaming the Forbidden Forest. Though, I just think that's a rumour that was started long before you or I got here. It'd be interesting to see it though if it was true."

He allowed his left right hand to roam around his side and feel the grass around him. The individual blades folding beneath his grasp felt incredibly nice and almost made up for the lackluster week he had spent studying and doing homework. "Sorry, by the way." he added. "I don't mean to sound prejudice about muggles. It's just kind of the reality I was brought up in and the face I have to play off of."

He sat back up, finishing the sandwich but saving the crust and tossing it into the water in hopes to feed the giant squid. He usually did that. If he brought a snack out by the water he would wish every time the squid would make an appearance but it never did. The squid could probably tell he had some dark blood running through his veins. He didn't blame it. It was often hard to distinguish when someone was treating him a certain way because of him or because of the connotation that came with his name. When he really thought about it he was incredibly lucky to be born given where his father was now and the state of his mother. But, he always had Duffy.

"Muggles aren't that bad, really." he pondered off - letting his mind wander.

“You get a lot done when you’re insane. People are less inclined to try to stop you,” she said, keeping her tone light despite the invading darkness at the mention of the murderess. Jack’s judgements, once formed, were relatively firm but she didn’t form them based on circumstances one couldn’t control, especially family. Jack would hate to be judged according to her mother.

“An enchanted car,” she mused, rolling the words over in her mouth, tossing the idea in her mind. She loved a trip to the forest when she could find an excuse for it, and the idea of wrangling a magical car. She’d like to get under the hood of it, figure out what made it tick. Muggles always had been obsessed with cars with superpowers.

Before she could say more, he was apologizing and she glanced over at him, catching his eye. An extraordinarily human moment passed between them, a young man apologizing for the sins of his blood. Because she didn’t think he was actually slighting muggles, and had he not been a Lestrange it wouldn’t have stuck out to either of them. But he was, and so it did.

So she offered a rare, genuine smile. It was small, just the lift of the corner, but it was there nonetheless. “Families are rough, aren’t they,” she said, presuming that he understood as well as she did.

After a beat she suddenly turned towards him. “Let’s find the car. Not right now, because I’m blazed. Tonight.”

"Yeah, yeah they are." he answered genuinely.

And then he got lost in his mind, imagining how a broom ride would feel in his current state. The air hitting his face and the unique sensations of sharp turns and quick declines. He always wondered about flying when he was, well as high as a broomstick. He wouldn't even approach a broom with a sober mind. He knew Jack was a good flyer, maybe she would take him up on her broom somet-

"Tonight"

He opened his eyes quickly and sat up, staring at her. It had been too good to be true. Here he was sitting and enjoying a quiet Saturday sandwich with the ever loud Jack Dyllan. Thinking Oh, maybe this isn't so bad. It's nice to be able to just have a quiet moment with her. He would have to invite her with him next weekend for a swim. But then, in a single sentence she made it loud - of course the idea did sound intriguing.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then paused and shut it. He repeated this process another time and waited a beat before answering. "I'm in." he said, and he leaned back into the grass kicking his feet a bit to feel the sensation of the water on his legs. "But," and he opened one eye to look at her "If we get caught I'm telling them you bewitched me." and closed his eyes again.

Of course, the evening was several hours away. By then his high would have faded and reality would have stepped in. Except this time he wasn't too worried. As far as adventures go, the Forbidden Forest was hardly something that would draw attention to himself. Not by anything he wasn't completely willing to curse anyway. He certainly felt like him and Jack were bonding and he didn't want to ruin that by upsetting the first instance of plans they ever made. He smiled softly to himself, at the idea of a friend.

"I never knew you were this easy to talk to, Dyllan." he added as an afterthought, speaking more to himself.

Excellent.

Most bodacious.

Most of her adventures were solitary, and therefore more dangerous. Running into centaurs was a tough deal when alone, especially since she was so uncharismatic, she never had a clever enough explanation. Detention was often lonely unless she had been tempted to brawl, and then her victim joined her.

Matt seemed a bit in shock, surprised despite himself. He was expecting to regret the action, as evidenced by his stipulation. Jack smirked, fully willing to take on the consequences. She would be going, company or no, so either way she was comfortable to claim the blame.

Despite it all, he seemed rather at peace. Moreso than she was used to see of him - he always seemed a bit angsty. A little weed did him well.

It was her time to be caught offguard. The statement was almost a compliment and by far the friendliest comment offered her all week. She looked at him but his eyes were closed and he barely seemed aware of her. The longer she didn’t speak the more it seemed she was affected so finally she forced a dumb smirk, saying, “Easy to talk to the dumb jock. No thoughts, head empty.”

But it was nice to think that maybe she was easy to talk to.