HP: Button-Holed
10-05-2018, 03:01 PM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2018, 03:01 PM by classicdrogn.)
10-05-2018, 03:01 PM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2018, 03:01 PM by classicdrogn.)
I'm fairly sure I never posted this except on SB... or remembered to save a local copy until today, when I had to search it up again myself 
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Button-holed
Kieran Giltsetter wasn't thinking about the Triwizard Tournament - the first event had been weeks before, and while having foreign students around might be novel he'd only known Hogwarts as it usually was for a single year before, and they were all way older anyway. Now and then there'd be a fuss over something in the paper, but those were not on his mind either - the overwhelming dilemma occupying his thoughts was that he still couldn't manage to produce a proper button in Transfiguration. Spying a beetle crawling on the wall where Harry Potter and his friends had just been passing, he slipped his wand out from under the watch-strap that held it up his sleeve to get a bit of impromptu practice in, far more frightened of McGonnegal than Filch, especially when the sour old man was no where in sight and Kieran would be facing the stern professor in his next class.
As he'd been dreading, the spell failed again - he didn't even get the fat green thing to turn flat or make any holes through it. He sighed and hung his head but was about to give it another go when an enraged screech shattered his thoughts, barely even able to look up in time to see a blonde witch in bright green brandishing her own wand, before the world went all topsy-turvy and strange and he was nauseous and his arms felt weird and everything tasted of rice pudding and he hated rice pudding and...
While young Mr. Giltsetter could not recommend the experience, he was quite glad to be added to the list of people Harry Potter had rescued over the years, and Mr. Potter and friends quite enjoyed the opportunity to hex Rita Skeeter silly. They even managed to get away without being massacred too harshly in the Prophet over it, since the woman had been assaulting a second-year in the halls and had made far too many enemies in influential positions to escape censure of her own when a moment of weakness appeared.
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Button-holed
Kieran Giltsetter wasn't thinking about the Triwizard Tournament - the first event had been weeks before, and while having foreign students around might be novel he'd only known Hogwarts as it usually was for a single year before, and they were all way older anyway. Now and then there'd be a fuss over something in the paper, but those were not on his mind either - the overwhelming dilemma occupying his thoughts was that he still couldn't manage to produce a proper button in Transfiguration. Spying a beetle crawling on the wall where Harry Potter and his friends had just been passing, he slipped his wand out from under the watch-strap that held it up his sleeve to get a bit of impromptu practice in, far more frightened of McGonnegal than Filch, especially when the sour old man was no where in sight and Kieran would be facing the stern professor in his next class.
As he'd been dreading, the spell failed again - he didn't even get the fat green thing to turn flat or make any holes through it. He sighed and hung his head but was about to give it another go when an enraged screech shattered his thoughts, barely even able to look up in time to see a blonde witch in bright green brandishing her own wand, before the world went all topsy-turvy and strange and he was nauseous and his arms felt weird and everything tasted of rice pudding and he hated rice pudding and...
While young Mr. Giltsetter could not recommend the experience, he was quite glad to be added to the list of people Harry Potter had rescued over the years, and Mr. Potter and friends quite enjoyed the opportunity to hex Rita Skeeter silly. They even managed to get away without being massacred too harshly in the Prophet over it, since the woman had been assaulting a second-year in the halls and had made far too many enemies in influential positions to escape censure of her own when a moment of weakness appeared.
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‎noli esse culus
‎noli esse culus