Notes to the Unknown PV Amara Dragamior Closed

That morning, Ross had woken up with his heart thumping with anticipation. It felt as if it was after a rainy day back at home while he hoped the worms may have wiggled their way out of the ground for that short, precious moment. It was like watching the cloudy sky when it was just thirty three degrees, waiting for that drop of rain to fall and gracefully turn to snow from the clouds. It was watching television in the morning when there had been a power outage- waiting for school to possibly be canceled. It was the feeling of knowing something might happen, even if it was unlikely.

He had thrown himself out of bed that morning, and like many mornings in the future he would find himself not even brushing his hair down. Instead, he ran his fingers through it instead and darted to Breakfast. Through Breakfast he could not stop tapping his foot and fidgeting with whatever the Hufflepuff could get his hands on around him as he awaiting class time, and once he knew Breakfast was over he found himself hurrying faster than he thought me might to History of Magic. Perhaps it would at least compel him to be more interested in the class- which was good enough to him.

Before anyone else could set their stuff down, Ross was there first just to check on a stupid note he was not even sure would get a reply. Still, the possibility someone wrote on it remained and that was what made Ross' heart flutter. Possibility was a big factor in the world. Sure there was a possibility a lion could break through the wizarding world walls and steal his flesh, but the possibility was low. Still, it was never a zero percent chance. Ross never really kept this in mind, but his mind was rather drawn to any sort of possibility whether it was negative or positive.

Ross dropped his hefty textbook right next to his desk along with his sloppy notes before snapping his attention to the little crumpled up piece of parchment on his desk.

It was still there

His heart skipped a beat, but he did not. His arm bolted for the note and he drew it in near. Still, he treated it carefully like an injured butterfly. It seemed folded.. different. More organized in some sort of way.

The Hufflepuff opened the crumpled letter with haste, making minor tears n the parchment. Was ecstatic when he saw it

New Words

New Handwriting.

It was someone else.

He got to reading, and his grin found itself widening every word. He had to reply, there was no doubt about it. He reached into his bag that was on top of his textbook and pulled out a quill.

As the day arrived once more, Ross had once again rushed to the History of Magic room. It was never too much of an issue for him of course, as the History of Magic room was on the exact same floor of his common room. The floor itself had his two least favorite classes, but at least they were nearby. His schedule was a complete mess when it came to navigating the castle, but it was quite alright with him. As long as he had those breaks in between movements, he could not have cared less. Well, he actually cared quite a bit but it was not nearly as bad as other areas of the school. The place itself was confusing.

Still, he had repeated practically the same exact things that he had done that Monday when it came to it. He had rushed to the room and had nearly tripped over himself several times while he was on his way, but this time his excitement was something entirely different. It was a known excitement. It was being invited to a birthday party, or knowing there was a day off school. It was genuinely intriguing to him, as now he had found his first confirmed adventure in some sort of way.

He had plopped himself in the seat and found the crumpled sheet on the corner of the desk once more. He unwrinkled it in a much more calm manner this time, but still his hands practically shaking from eagerness. The ink was the same white, and in an extraordinarily heavenly handwriting. It was identifiable on the spot, as he had not known of a single soul who wrote the way the anonymous correspondent did. This time he had carried his quill with him, and he wrote his best idea of a reply.

Say, was that last part creepy? When Ross looked it over with his eyes, he decided there was definitely something off about the way he wrote it. He firmly grasped his Quill once more and proceeded to scratch out the yellow ink. As he did it, he did not even realize he forgot to write an ending for his little letter. Instead, as soon as that part was scratched out he proceeded to fold it up once more.

The boy paused for a moment. What was a squib? He had not really heard of it before. All he knew was that there were wizards and 'muggles' as the kids seemed to refer to them as. It was a completely new experience, but he had never bothered to inquire about the rest of the vocabulary.
He would look stupid if he just pretended to know, and so in a moment of pure confusion and a lack of a thought process he decided to write some more.

Say, what is a squib, or do you have dyslexia or something? If you meant squid, that'd be pretty cool! If my mom was a squid, I bet I'd be way more cool.

I'll spare you the trouble though and just tell you i'm a first year! We had our introduction about a week ago with some soap and stuff! It was really cool.

-Sheep!

The Hufflepuff folded it up with haste and put it back on the corner of the desk. The way he wrote was a contrast to the way he spoke, but he hoped it gave off the same energy. Perhaps he was too weird? There was no time to worry, really. Class would be starting soon anyways.

Everything he had said was surprisingly true. He wanted to be a detective, so he supposed he was not a pro yet; however, he would get there eventually he had promised himself at least that. The Hufflepuff smiled at the paper before crumpling it up and putting it back in the corner. Truth was, he had no idea what he was doing

Another day another letter and another week another Friday. The weekends at Hogwarts were always such a rush to Ross, as it was simply a time to explore. There was so much to do, and it was like there were practically no limits. Still, Ross could not help but feel upset he would not be able to read the letter in response for two more days at least, so he felt he should make this one count. He had been thinking about it for a little while. How could he make the most of the message? He only had about five minutes at the start of class, tops. Perhaps he should just make the most of it.

As he sat down at his little desk, he picked up his quill and began to write.

Ross felt it was good enough, and he finished it in the nick of time as well. This time, he was more gentle about putting it in the corner again, ready to proceed with the class period once more.