Meeting At Sunset PV Marshal Mozor Closed

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Pay attention to the details of life - every sunrise, every sunset, and everything in between - or it will be gone before you even realize what you had

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I should really be heading to bed, Marshal thought to himself, while he did the exact opposite. Magical torches lit his way as he sauntered through the otherwise dark corridors, going in the perfect direction to take him away from the Gryffindor dorms. But he wasn't concerned; he still figured he would make it back in plenty of time, right after he was finished with his little evening exploration of the castle.
One might argue that he had already gone on several of these little excursions and often failed to return to his dorm in time, due to the fact that he had no sense of direction and tended to get lost easily. And yet, he was growing increasingly confident that he could find his way back without issue. There was no logical reason for him to feel more confident, but logic had never diffused his enthusiasm before, so why should it now?

Only the soft sound of crackling fire interrupted the almost unearthly silence as he walked alone, even the sound of his footsteps practically stolen by the solid stone beneath. It was that lack of noise that allowed him to register the faintest of sounds as he moved past a door that stood almost completely closed, with only a slight gap between it and the door frame.
Coming to a halt, Marshal cocked his head and listened closer. A moment later, he heard it again- a small movement, and the sound of paper, so quiet that he would have missed it if he had been thinking too loud.
Placing a hand on the door, he slowly pushed it open and peeked his head around it. Glancing around the room, he realized that he had never been inside before. It was definitely a classroom, considering the chairs inside, arranged so that they all faced the front of the room. Evidently, this was a class that he had yet to attend. Maybe in future years he would become more familiar with it.

He also spotted a girl who appeared to be about his age, sitting in a windowsill. She had long, red hair, and no shortage of freckles on her face. But one thing stood out to him above everything else- her eyes were not normal. Aside from the light green color that naturally resided within them, they were also red, and slightly puffy. Marshal wasn't an expert, but he knew what it looked like when somebody had recently been in tears; he had seen his mother cry many times since his sister's death. She tried to hide it from him too, but he always knew, just as he knew that this girl had been in tears before he entered the room.

Still peeking around the door with only his head, he plastered a small smile onto his face. Reaching a hand to where he knew the girl could see it, he gave a little wave.
"Oh, hi there," he said cheerfully, figuring that the last thing this girl wanted was for him to reveal that he knew she had been crying. "I didn't realize anyone was in here. I was just looking for a place to practice my whistling." It wasn't a complete lie. He was dreadful at whistling, and often practiced when he was alone.
Pushing the door completely open, he entered the room fully.
Noticing the book the red-haired girl held, he pointed at it, delicately attempting to see if she wanted to talk about whatever was troubling her. "So whatcha got there? A book of forbidden but really cool spells? If so, can I borrow it? All I really know how to do at this point is poke people with my pointy stick." Also known as a wand.

@Melissa Carson

A boy that was about Melissa's age poked his head in and waved at her. "H-hi," she said as she waved back. Does...does he know I was crying? she wondered as he talked. Her eyes felt quite puffy at the moment but she didn't know how she actually looked like. Then, a small laugh escaped from her as he talked about her diary and his wand. "It's um...not a book of forbidden cool spells of course. It's actually...well...let's just say a normal book," she lied. Well, it not being a forbidden book was a truth so she wasn't fully lying- Also, she wouldn't dare to say it was even her journal. Let alone diary. What would he say about it?

Even when Melissa was little, the boys from her muggle school laughed at her for having a diary or knowing things. They just...didn't understand. They didn't understand a lot of things she did actually. Maybe he's different though. Maybe he'll understand- she thought. The ginger liked Hogwarts because of that. People actually understood her and they didn't judge. They wouldn't laugh because of your name or anything- Speaking of names, Mel realized that she had failed to introduce herself to the boy at the door. She also didn't even know his name! "O-oh yeah...My name's Melissa by the way-" she quickly said.

@Marshal Mozor

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Pay attention to the details of life - every sunrise, every sunset, and everything in between - or it will be gone before you even realize what you had

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The girl laughed at his comment, causing his smile to widen. Laughter was a good start. Certainly better than tears, at least.
In that moment, he resolved not to leave until she had a genuine, lasting smile on her face. Sadness wouldn't do; he simply wouldn't have it. He had experienced plenty of the awful emotion himself, and wasn't willing to let others get lost in misery if he had anything to say about it. Time to put his naturally amusing personality to good use and distract this stranger from whatever was troubling her.

She explained that her book was not cool at all, but rather ordinary in every way. From the hesitant way she said it, however, Marshal wondered just how normal the book actually was. But he wasn't going to pursue the topic any more. If she said it was normal, then he would consider it normal.
Then again, in this new world of his, he wasn't even sure what normal was anymore. Maybe the book sang its contents. Or perhaps you had to feed it a cookie before it would open. It could be anything, and he would no longer consider it "abnormal."
"Well, that's too bad. I guess I'll just have to stick with poking attackers in the eye," he replied, then squinted thoughtfully, his gaze drifting just past where the girl sat. "Maybe I should just buy a sword and carry that around. That seems more par for the course with the creatures that are supposedly around these parts." He gave the idea more thought than he should have, then shrugged and turned his attention back to the stranger, who now introduced herself as "Melissa."

"Well, hey there, Melissa! My name is Marshal, and it's an absolute pleasure to meet you!" He now studied her robes for the first time. The blue lining indicated that she was a member of Ravenclaw. From what he had learned so far, being in Ravenclaw usually meant that a person liked books more than most, just like his mom. He never had understood her love for boring words on paper. He could get behind a good comic book, or even a short fantasy story, but he simply didn't have the patience to finish anything longer than about one hundred pages. It was one reason why he disliked homework so much - a lot of reading about something he didn't care about.
"So you're in Ravenclaw?" he asked for the sake of conversation. "What's it like being smart? I wouldn't know. I bet you guys have all the good books in your common room. All we have in the Gryffindor common room is a great view, but that's all right. I'd rather watch a good sunrise than read Shakespeare."
Even the thought of reading something written by William Shakespeare was enough to make Marshal want to gag. That guy had serious issues...

@Melissa Carson

So the boy at the door, who also introduced himself as Marshal seemed like a funny guy. By now, Melissa had started warming up to him. He could basically make anyone laugh whenever he wanted. "Yep, you guessed it, I'm in Ravenclaw," she replied. Marshal's really trying to keep a conversation going, isn't he? she wondered. Then, she said, "Well, being smart is just being smart. Just joking, you just know a lot of things, that's all. Also, we don't really have a lot of books that are actually from our dorm. They're all either our own or from the library... Wait who's Shakespeare?" Mel tried to think of someone named Shakespeare but nothing came up. But I've learned about almost every famous person in the wizarding world! Oh, wait...maybe Shakespeare is a muggle- Due to growing up in the wizarding world, she never knew any famous muggles.

The ginger didn't dare to ask Marshal what his blood status was in case if he got offended or anything. It didn't matter much anyway since blood statuses didn't really mean anything. She just never understood why purebloods thought that they were the best out of everyone. Her mother was a pureblood but she was never snobby, instead, she was kind and loving. Shaking away her thoughts, the girl then asked, "Anyways, what's it like being in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart?" just out of pure curiosity. She also just wanted to think about other things...not her mother's death. It hasn't even been one year since the accident but it felt a lot more to Melissa.

@Marshal Mozor

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Pay attention to the details of life - every sunrise, every sunset, and everything in between - or it will be gone before you even realize what you had

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@Melissa Carson

Indeed, Mel here was a Ravenclaw. Marshal hadn't really talked to any of those before now, except maybe one back at Summer Camp. He wondered just how much more this girl might know than he did, not that he knew an awful lot, of course. The Gryffindor was actually quite intelligent, despite the way he acted most of the time, but intelligence was altogether different than being book smart. To be book smart, you had to, well... read books.

"You don't know who Shakespeare is?" he replied to her question, surprised. Most everyone knew about the writer back where he came from. How much different was her upbringing than his own? "He's a famous poet, known for his 'groundbreaking writing,'" he made air quotes with his fingers as he said the last two words, "or something like that. He also wrote plays and stuff like that. Personally, I think he was depressed or something, and wanted everyone who read his stuff to feel the same way."
Thinking back, he wasn't sure that he had ever met someone who didn't know the story of Romeo and Juliet. Then again, he hadn't brought the subject up since arriving at Hogwarts. Now he was curious.
"So where are you from, Melissa?" he asked. "I'm just curious because where I'm from, London, we learned about Shakespeare in school." He then snapped his fingers in realization. "Oh yeah, I also went to a... oh, what would they call it here?" He squinted his eyes thoughtfully, his tongue poking slightly out the corner of his mouth. Finally, he remembered. "A muggle school! Most people I've met here have magical parents, and they seem to be raised a lot differently than I was, my parents being muggles. Were you maybe raised in a magical family too?"
He remembered talking to Lindsey at Summer Camp and learning that she had no idea what Google was, or how to use a smartphone. He had tried so hard to explain those things to the girl, and had done a less than perfect job at it. A small smile crossed his mouth at the memory.

Seemingly in counter to his question about what it was like being smart, Melissa asked him about the experience of being a Gryffindor. The quote that stated who belonged in his house had always intrigued him. He supposed some might consider him brave, seeing as he didn't seem to be afraid of much anything, but did that really qualify as true bravery? He wasn't sure.
He shrugged. "It's pretty good, I guess. There's a lot more red involved. The fat lady really likes to sing, but most people wish she wouldn't. I think she should keep trying if she loves it so much," he chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting in the torchlight, "Just maybe not when I'm around."
Closing the gap between him and the girl in the windowsill, he leaned against the stone wall right beside the window, crossing one leg over the other so that only the toe of his shoe touched the ground, all of his weight on the other foot.
Pushing his hands into the pockets of the sweat pants he wore under his robes, he continued, "I never knew about magic until a few months ago, so all of this is really weird for me. I'm not even sure what it means that I was placed in Gryffindor. But I guess whatever works, works. What kind of door does the Ravenclaw dorm have? Is it behind a painting too?"

"I...I actually don't know-" Melissa said apologetically. Maybe Shakespeare was a really important person to the world, yet she didn't who he was or what he did. To be honest, she felt kind of embarrassed that she didn't know who this famous poet was. Another laugh came from her when Marshal talked about Shakespeare's plays. Now I'm curious about Shakespeare's plays... Mel thought. Oh wait actually, I'll be able to read his plays when I go home for winter break! "Well um, I'm also from London but I was homeschooled by my father since...well since I'm wizard-born and my par- actually just my dad now, wanted me to learn about the wizarding world," she told Marshal. "There are quite a few muggle-borns, people who have muggle parents like you, here as well though." she added. it was then when the ginger started to feel uncomfortable about blood statuses. She didn't want Marshal to also feel uncomfortable about being muggle-born. Oh god what if he just thinks I'm a snob? she nervously wondered.

Honestly, you couldn't even imagine how relived Melissa was when he started talking about other stuff. Maybe he doesn't think that...or maybe he's just hiding it- she said in her head. Sometimes, she just overthought about things but who knows if it was actually true? She just couldn't stand not knowing if someone thinks she weird, a snob, or something else that's bad. "I know it's strange...suddenly learning about all kinds of new things and all but I'm sure that it'll all work out in the future. Being placed in Gryffindor means that you're loyal, brave, adventurous, daring, and a lot of other amazing traits. Even though I've only just met you, I can tell that you're all of these things," she told him. "The Ravenclaw door is somewhat annoying, even to me. We have to answer a question given by the eagle doorknob every time we want to go in. If we get it wrong, then we'll have to wait until someone gets it right...Something I've been thinking about ever since I was sorted into Ravenclaw is why our mascot is an eagle and not a raven-"

@Marshal Mozor

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Pay attention to the details of life - every sunrise, every sunset, and everything in between - or it will be gone before you even realize what you had

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@Melissa Carson

As Melissa stuttered a response concerning Shakespeare, Marshal recognized the discomfort in her countenance, thus mentally slapping himself in reprimand.
Excellent work, you failure of Shakespearian proportions, he scolded himself inwardly, you’ve succeeded in making a Ravenclaw feel stupid. Not exactly the most effective way to cheer someone up.

She recounted a bit of her past, only serving to make him even more certain that he was a particularly horrible person. She had been raised in the ways of witches and wizards, which explained her lack of knowledge on the subject of famous muggles. She likely knew as much of the topic as he did about notable individuals in the magical community, which was to say, next to nothing.
And to make matters worse, it sounded as though she might have lost her mother in some way, leaving only her father to teach her as he saw fit.
Marshal had no idea what he would do if he were to lose his mother. He had some experience in loss, in light of his sister’s death, but he wondered just how different the two scenarios might be. To lose a sibling was to lose a close friend and companion - in his case, at the very least. It was to feel as though your best friend had been robbed of so many years not yet lived, and to desire that you could be taken in their place. But to lose a parent was something else entirely. To lose a parent was to lose a teacher, one who would sacrifice most anything if only to see you succeed. In effect, losing your mother or father was akin to having your guiding light snuffed out amid the dark world, leaving you lost, confused and hopeless. Without light, all you could do was wander, feeling around until you either found your path, or lost sight of it forever.

A part of him wanted to ask about her mother. Sometimes it helped simply to talk about what troubled you, to let your grief flow, rather than keeping it bottled inside of you. However, the more attentive part of him felt as though this may not be the most opportune time for such a question. Melissa seemed to be cheering up slightly, and he didn’t want to ruin that. So he steered around that topic, for now.
”Don’t worry,” he replied hurriedly. ”A lot of people around here probably don’t know about Shakespeare. It seems like people who come from magical families were raised so differently than I was. I still have no clue whether Merlin was real or not.” He smiled as if joking, though now that he brought it up, it seemed like an excellent question. He had read books and seen movies about Merlin, one of the most powerful wizards in history, but had always thought that history to be but mere fantasy. Perhaps the myths had been derived from truth after all.

Moving on, Melissa recited some of the traits generally associated with Gryffindor. Listening intently, Marshal felt his heart swelling slightly within his chest, especially when the Ravenclaw affirmed that he personally held many of those traits. He felt as though he might blush under such praise from the girl in the windowsill.
”Aw, shucks,” he said with a playful grin in her direction. ”You don’t seem so bad yourself."

Upon hearing what Ravenclaws had to face in order to enter their dormitory, he felt a rush of gratitude toward the sorting hat for not placing him in that house. If he were forced to rely on his riddle-solving skills to open the way to the Gryffindor dorm, he suspected he would sleep on the cold stone of the corridor most nights. It took enough effort on his part to simply remember the password when the Fat Lady asked for it.
“In that case, I think there’s a very good reason I didn’t end up in Ravenclaw. That door would be the bane of my existence.” He chuckled, then cocked his head in confusion. “Your mascot is a- what? Sounds to me like that doorknob needs to solve the riddle of its own identity before asking anyone else weird questions.” He shook his head. “You’d think I would understand this place more the longer I’m here, but I swear it just gets weirder and weirder.”