Study Habits PV With Scarlett Aden Closed

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@Marshal Mozor

Studying was not what you would call a 'Scarlett Aden Thing'. Now, riding a roller-coaster would definitely be counted as a 'thing'. As would burning the house down, pranking and generally annoying people would be. But studying? Studying? No way. This Gryffindor didn't study. Scarlett effortlessly passed all her exams, aced classes on a daily basis. She was a star student, never getting less than an O, never -

A big fat D greeted her as she scanned the results of her Transfiguration test. The D was printed in red, in bulky letters so people in Africa could probably see it. Her dark-brown eyes widened as a flash of realization dawned in her mind.

I need to study.

It looked like the prospect of extra learning could be avoided no longer, so why not go all out? If Scarlett was actually knuckling down to try and stuff words and information in her brain, then why not prepare for the momentous ocassion? Prepare she did - after classes had ended, the Gryffindor had changed into the clothes that proved to be smart but comfortable at the same time, broadcasting an intelligent yet chic message towards the world. Transfiguration books were collected from the library and beyond, then stuffed into a tote bag with the lion crest emblazoned on it in a brilliant flare of red and gold. With the help of a few faithful friends, sugary snacks and energy drinks were gathered and shoved into a separate tote bag, this time bearing the Hogwarts crest on it. Finally, parchment and quills were carefully placed in the third and final bag, this time plain because her aunt couldn't be bothered to sew another one.

Looking like a shopper rather than a studier, the redhead set off for the Study Room. She had never actually ventured into this area of Hogwarts before - there were far more interesting locations, like the Great Lake, or the Forbidden Forest, or even the Ballroom. Why go to the Study Room, of all places?

Scarlett entered her destination, feeling her flimsy muscles weakening under the stress and weight of the heavy, densely-packed bags. Scarlett often joked about her strength, but now she was a Beater - a flipping first-string Beater - on the Quidditch team, she needed to start seriously shaping up like some of her friends. How had Lindsey and Aurelia managed it - being effortlessly athletic, yet slim and pretty at the same time?

She staggered to a random spot at a random table, unable to carry the weight anymore, Her bags and books and equipment and snacks crashed onto the table with a booming THUD.

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♤♧ Say not that we age, but that our beauty develops with time ♧♤

@Scarlett Aden

It was a truly marvelous nap. If it was physically possible for one to consciously feel how pleasant a nap was while they were asleep, then Marshal would certainly say he did in this case. Then again, he would say it regardless.
This nap was glorious on all accounts. It felt restful, somehow healing, and he even experienced a dream wherein he was doing some activity other than reading a dreadfully long and boring book. That is, until it all came crashing down with one big THUD.

His head jerked off the backrest as he instinctively jumped to his feet, simultaneously sending the history book flying from his lap and eliciting another dull thud, though not quite so intense. Slightly disoriented and blurry eyed, he searched the room for the offender that had brought him back to his dreadful, homework-engulfed reality. What he saw was multiple pairs of eyes flitting momentarily to one side of the room like those of indignant worshipers whose sacred services had been interrupted. More people like Herb, too focused on learning for their own good. Nevertheless, he followed their accusatory eyes to find what must have been the source of his unwanted alarm.
Standing beside one of the available tables in the room and looking a bit disheveled was a girl he knew he had never seen, by reason that he simply could never have forgotten her. Red hair drew the eye immediately, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Led by her hair, he was drawn to the exquisite face that it framed, the dark coloration exemplifying her fare skin. Long lashes lined those brown eyes that he wanted nothing more than to look at him, which meant he couldn’t just stand there like a dumbstruck dolt.

Running a hand through his messy hair as if he could magically make it appear like he was prepared for the most important meeting of his life, rather than dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, he started in her direction.
Upon further inspection, he noticed three bags on the table. They looked rather heavy, and he supposed they might have been the cause of the earlier thud. The mouth of one bag had fallen open, leaving a number of mismatched snacks free to scatter across the table surface. Now the hungry Gryffindor had another very important reason to get on this girl’s good side.
Stooping down, he scooped up a couple of the snacks, which had fallen to the ground.
“There you go,” he said, placing them near the open bag. “It would be rather dreadful to lose such precious cargo. I remember the last time I lost a candy bar. Effectively ruined my whole day.” He shrugged with a grin. “Turns out it was in my pocket the whole time. That was a bit of a mess.” He proceeded to assist her in gathering the rest of the scattered goods.

With a jolt of realization, he remembered that he had left his history book where it had fallen beside his chair. Of course, he then remembered that he didn’t care in the slightest. It wasn’t like anyone would steal it, and if they did, maybe he would have an excuse when his homework was left conveniently unfinished, or worse.
Maybe Herb will swoop in and steal it for a good Saturday read, he thought to himself, barely refraining from rolling his eyes in amusement.

The first-year reached out a tentative finger to poke one of the other two bags. “Are the other bags filled with delicious things as well?” he asked hopefully. “Now, that’s my kind of studying. I think I know exactly who to bribe for snack acquisition in the future.”

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@Marshal Mozor
terribly sorry for the wait!

"God, sorry about that-" Scarlett cursed as she saw the boy she had just woken up. He looked like he was having a blissful nap, and here he was, awoken by an unathletic second-year carrying too many things for her own good. The boy didn't seem to mind though, staring at her as she raised her eyebrows. He ran his hand through his hair and started towards her. The boy scooped up the sweets that had tragically fallen in the big thud, following it up with a casual anecdote.

"A forgetful type, are you?" asked Scarlett inquisitively. "Who are you even, anyway?"

The boy was blonde and he looked nice enough. She had never seen him in her classes, so chances were he was a first-year. The two collected her sweet ammunition and Scarlett managed to stuff the last Chocolate Frog into her bag. Why a stranger decided to help her she didn't know, but she was grateful all the same. She thought for a moment and decided to offer the boy one in return for his help, but then he cut in before she could open her mouth, asking about the other bags. She stifled a laugh. "Nah, the other bags are just quills and books. And if you dare try and bribe me, bear in mind the fact that I will hex you into tomorrow, unless you offer me a Muggle biscuit in return. I love biscuits."

She rummaged around the sweet bag and found a Chocolate Frog. Another second of searching and grabbing produced a second one. Scarlett held out one of the frogs to the boy. "Want it?"

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❆❆ Our lives are as the snow; temporary, yet impactful. Cold, yet beautiful. It is our choice to either bundle up and face it, or to stay safe and warm by the fire. ❆❆

@Scarlett Aden

The girl's apology fell upon forgiving ears, as Marshal saw no need for its utterance. He was far from upset; in fact, this was exactly the type of distraction he had been hoping for. And even a far prettier one than he had previously imagined.
He waved a hand dismissively. "No need to apologize," he said to her, his grin holding the slight mischievousness that accompanied any of his flirtatious compliments. "You're clearly better than any dream I could have been having. Not to mention, you brought me candy."
While his words may have seemed like that of some playboy using pickup lines, they were said earnestly, his facial features softening to show that he truly meant everything he had said. The boy had no ill-intent, but simply wanted the girl to know what he thought of her. Perhaps his face would soon be met with the back of her hand, but he supposed he should get used to that. At least she could only walk away feeling better about herself, whether she reciprocated his feelings or not.

"Mum always did say that I have the memory of a dirt clod, but I can't remember that many times I forgot something," he joked, then offered his hand in greeting. "The name's Marshal Mozor. I'm new enough around here that I don't always make it where I want to go. This place is huge and confusing. The moving staircases are cool, though! I never get bored going upstairs, that's for sure!" He scratched his chin and added, "So what's your name, oh bringer of snacks?"

With his help, the girl finished shoving candy back into the bag, leaving his mouth watering slightly. A sweet treat sounded spectacular in that moment, and while he would certainly joke about her bringing the snacks for him, he would stop short of actually asking her to give him any.
The Gryffindor chuckled in response to her light-hearted threat. He had no doubt that she could put him in his place if she chose to use magic. His amount knowledge and skill with a wand would offer little resistance to whatever hex she spoke of. At best, he might succeed in blinding her temporarily and running for his over-eager, much-appreciated life.
Apparently, such a confrontation could be avoided, simply by offering her a 'muggle biscuit.' The fact that the word 'biscuit' was preceded by 'muggle' was still a bit odd to him. It would likely be some time before he grew used to the term for non-magical folk, like his parents.

"My mum knows how to make those. I'd say I could ask her, but I'll probably just forget anway." He raised his eyebrows, attempting to rub her own comment in as much as possible. "But I would like to try some wizard biscuits sometime. I'm sure they taste magical."

He watched hungrily as she rummaged through the bag, soon pulling multiple chocolate frogs from within. His eyes lit up when she offered him one of them, and he accepted it graciously.
"Well, that's very kind of you! But I am curious; what hex are you planning to use if I misbehave? I just want to be prepared for the inevitable, that's all." As he spoke, he opened the chocolate frog package. Unfortunately, his attention was focused on the stranger before him, causing him to forget one important detail about his snack - it had a mind of its own.
Him? Forget? Preposterous!
Taking advantage of his sloppiness, the frog immediately leapt from the opening he had created, slipping through his fingers and landing on the floor below.
Feeling his snack escape from his grasp, Marshal's head snapped downward to find it. Eyes searching, he spotted it, hopping as fast as it could toward a small opening under a nearby bookshelf.

"Don't you even dare," he growled, diving forward, hands outstretched. He landed hard, but paid the pain no heed; he had his priorities. Just before the frog disappeared through the opening and was lost to him forever, his hands closed around it in a grab that might impress a quidditch Seeker.
"Got it!" he exclaimed, still lying on the ground and holding the rebellious frog in the air for the red-haired girl to see.
Exasperated sighs and grumbles sounded about the room, and more than a few students began filing through the door, finally fed up with all the ruckus. Judging from their passing comments, they evidently figured that it would be easier to study at the circus. Come to think of it, Marshal would love to see a magical circus...

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@Marshal Mozor

Was he - was he attempting to flirt with her?

Okay the world had officially gone bonkers. The boy was subtly and actually attempting to compliment her. It certainly looked sincere, but Scarlett was thirteen and she was uncomfortable with eleven-year-old boys trying to use pick-up lines on her. The guy seemed alright though - nice and honest. But not her type. Perhaps she should shut him down now, to prevent any complications? That would be best. Surely it would be-

"Yes, candy," laughed Scarlett. "Which type do you like most? Personally, Chocolate Frogs are my favourite, because of the cards and all, but Bertie Botts' are nice as well. Though of course, they depend on luck."

Her eyes flickered to the ceiling before continuing. "By the way, I'm not really looking for any type of romantic relationship right now," she said, not unkindly, but concise enough for someone to understand. "Anyway, I'm Scarlett Aden. What house are you in?"

A few moments later, he was talking about wizard biscuits. This boy had a rather short attention span and was obviously a Muggle-born, but not too bad. "Oh stop with the puns," said Scarlett again, holding in a chuckle. "And I feel like Incendio would work nicely, though Flipendo is a good option."

She looked down at her books. "By the way, were we every going to actually study, or...?"

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Graphic by Leonard Oaksworth

[font=Times New Roman]@Scarlett Aden

Marshal thought about her question for a minute. What type of candy did he like best? It seemed impossible to make a choice- there were simply so many candies that made him happier than he had any right to be. There were Hershey's Bars, Kit Kat bars, and so many more, not to mention all the new kinds he had discovered in the magical world.
The minute of pondering stretched on until he finally glanced at the frog in his hand. "I think I'd have to say chocolate frogs," he replied, pushing himself off from the floor, where he had retrieved his snack. "There a lot of candies that I grew up loving, but I still can't get over the fact that these move on their own." He admired the chocolate frog in his hand for a moment before popping it in his mouth, ignoring the fact that it had just been on the floor, and may or may not have had a dust particle or two upon its surface. Plenty of people would be aghast to see him do such a thing, but he never had been terribly cautious about what he ate.
Glancing back at the red-haired girl, he vaguely wondered if the sight would disturb her.

Finished chewing, he swallowed and continued talking, "I've heard about Bertie Botts', though. Those are the jelly beans that can taste like anything, right? I'd give anything to try those!"
Marshal had always possessed an abundance of appreciation for two things: food, and anything adventurous. So if the two could be combined, he might just die and go to heaven. From what he had heard about these magical jelly beans, you never knew what flavor you were going to get. You could experience the most fantastic taste of your life, the exact opposite, or anything in between, meaning that every bite was like a little adventure.
Needless to say, the first-year wanted in on it.

He watched the girl contentedly, quite pleased with the direction his study session had gone. He was not prepared for her next comment, however.
His smile faltered slightly at her words, his eyes losing just a hint of their constant enthusiasm. He caught himself before his expression drooped any further, however, unwilling to appear too crestfallen.
"Romance?" He sputtered, as if it the thought had never even entered his mind. Waving a hand dismissively, he added, "What would give you such a crazy idea? I was merely stating a fact about what I saw. Does there always have to be an underlying reason for telling a girl she's beautiful?"
Yes. Yes, there did.
His grin returned to full force once more as he scratched his head- a habitual gesture. "Besides, you're clearly out of my league anyway! I wouldn't dream of it." Except he almost certainly would. Probably that night. But that was officially beside the point.

The girl's next sentence was prefaced with 'Anyway,' indicating that she would very much like to change the subject. So Marshal let his hopes and dreams slide sadly down the river for good. He would miss them...
Hearing her name almost made him jump into the current after them, but he refrained, telling himself it was too late. He had been shot down before he even had any real chance.
"An undeniable pleasure to meet you, Scarlett!" He offered his hand in a formal greeting. "My name is Marshal. Marshal Mozor. And, as fortune would have it, it seems we're in the same house." He gestured to the Gryffindor crest imprinted on one of the bags. "It's great to be a lion, isn't it?"
Sometimes better than others, it seemed.

He reveled in Scarlett's small laugh at his jokes, then replied sarcastically, "I don't have the ability to stop. It's a disease that plagues my family. If we ever stop telling puns and jokes, we just fall over and die. It happened to my Uncle Henry. Saddest Christmas party ever..." He allowed his gaze to drop to the floor in mourning for his fictitious Uncle Henry. He miraculously recovered from his sadness, however, and went on. "I don't know what either of those spells are, but I assume they might end with me looking like my Uncle Henry."

He followed Scarlett's eyes to the books, which looked quite lonely on the table before them. "Oh. I thought that's what we were doing..." His voice trailed off. He had found a perfect way to escape his previous study plans, and he had no wish to renew them. Maybe he could distract this girl he now considered to be his newest friend, and they could procrastinate together. He simply had to be so unavoidably interesting that she would have no hope of accomplishing the thing she had come here to do. Easy enough, right?

outfit
speech #bf0040

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@Marshal Mozor

[font=times new roman]I[/font]t was a safe answer - chocolate frogs. Though a rather common choice, it wasn't controversial in any way so Scarlett could safely say his opinion was valid. A not-valid opinion would probably be Liquorice Wands - eugh - or earwax-flavoured Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans. Scarlett also didn't seem to realise that the whole point of an opinion was that there was no right or wrong answer. He then popped a frog into his mouth from the floor and Scarlett quirked her eyebrows slightly and pretended to be inspecting a sweet.

"My favourite?" remarked Scarlett, though he hadn't asked her. "It would have to be Cauldron Cakes - they're all sweet and, er, chocolatey!" She had no idea why her voice had crescendoed slightly at the end, though it was probably something to do with her mental search for a word to describe the awesomeness of the cake other than 'sweet'. She reclined in her seat. "It must be weird having all these new sweets. Are there any Muggle sweets you like?"

Oh and I wouldn't recommend diving right into the beans," warned Scarlett as an afterthought. "I got a vomit one once and - well, yep. It's a tricky...trick to master, but you need to sniff the bean to judge whether it's something good, like buttered popcorn, or bad, like rotten eggs. Some of them look surprisingly similar so-" Scarlett shrugged. "-just a warning."

At the next topic of speech, Scarlett felt slightly bad - but she did what she had to do. She wasn't interested in boys and had to ward off any, just in case they got the wrong idea. "I mean, not that I don't like you," burst out Scarlett quickly after she had said it. "Just, I don't like you in that way, you know? You seem like a decent fellow. And like - thanks and everything but friends is fine. What with your very - er - flattering attitude, I'm sure you'll find the girl of your dreams pretty soon."

She was very eager to move on from that subject. Eesh - romance was not her thing. Scarlett shook his hand, in a friendly manner now. "Nice to meet you too!" She grinned. "It is great to be a lion. We are the best house after all. How are you enjoying Hogwarts so far?"

Scarlett laughed at Marshal's little anecdote. "We'd hate for you to end up like Uncle Henry," she said. "Keep on punning punningly. Don't worry, I've decided against hexing you." Marshal seemed like a generally nice person. She was rather fortunate she had met someone like him rather than someone like - oh, she didn't know - Beckett.

Scarlett glanced at her book-sporting tote bag, before placing it on the floor. "Eh, I can study another day," she shrugged. "So, Marshal, what do you like to do for a...hobby?" It was the most pathetic piece of small talk she could find, but hey, didn't all friendships start like this?

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