Kowalewicz, Darius Hayden.

[prongsy]

-- Darius Hayden Kowalewicz. 16. Junior. Art, in general.

Sebastian was tired. It had been an interesting morning, with Quidditch practice and all. Not that he was tired or angry with the fact, no. It was just the opposite, in fact. He loved the sport, the rush of wind and the overwhelming joy of winning. He wasn’t a poor sport, he could take the losses. Just, you know, not against those Slytherin players. He grimaced to himself as he thought of them, a small expression that didn’t often appear on his face. He tucked his broom over his shoulder, tapping his leg gently as he walked down the hallway. He quite loved Saturdays. They started with Quidditch practice, then the day went on with homework (if Sebastian hadn’t finished it the day before which, this time, he had), or a friendly game of Gobstones. He’d learnt how to play the game when he’d first come to Hogwarts, taught by some third year Ravenclaw students who decided to take pity and teach him. Sebastian had taught Nathaniel, on a rather boring winter evening. Since then, the two had always challenged each other. At his last count, it was something like 298 games for him and 297 for Nathaniel but he was certain that Nathaniel would tell the score differently.

A smile met his features, and he answered the riddle to enter the common room. Looking around, he waved at a few fellow Ravenclaw students before heading towards the stairs and heading up. Once arriving at the level for the sixth year males, he entered and shucked off his Quidditch robes. He toed off his boots, grabbing his wand to dry them off before meticulously placing them in his trunk. He changed into his school uniform, grabbing a heavy cloak and a book. He slipped into another pair of boots, pulling them up a little. After he’d finished that, he grabbed a hat and jammed it over his head, forcing the straight black hair down. Nathaniel must be busy, seeing as he’d gone the other way from the pitch, so Sebastian was off to read. He never played Gobstones with anyone else, except for those who begged. Not that it took much begging to get him to play. If people knew how to phrase their comments right, Sebastian was certain that they could get him to play a whole tournament of Gobstones. The smile grew into a smirk at the thought, and Sebastian made his way out of the dormitories and into the common room. He changed the smirk into a slightly cocky grin, and headed out the door and into the halls.

As he passed a window, he smiled at the glitter of the snow. A child at heart, Sebastian wondered what would happen if he made a snowball and whipped it at a Slytherin… He imagined the facial expressions, and smiled to himself. Sebastian grabbed his wand, pulling it out and covering a nearby couple with tinsel. He jumped around a corner, checking to see their smiles before he continued on his course. Normally, he would head for the library to read but, for some reason, he wanted to head outside. His much abused copy of The Secret Garden rested under his arm, wand at his side. He’d received the book when he was younger, a version that his mother had been given for her birthday. One of his most prized possessions, Sebastian took the greatest care of it. He’d never touched the book with magic, a new rule that his mother had implemented when she’d discovered her babies were wizards. She had had that book for quite a few years, and didn’t want it to be blemished by the magic. Sebastian had sworn, and had kept his promise. He angled his path towards the doors, hoping to slip outside and into the courtyard. It was peaceful and, the best news, it was a place that the Slytherin students tended to overlook. He opened the doors, eyes taking in the sparkles of snow and the glistening shine of icicles. Taking a step in, he noticed that the courtyard was not empty at all. There sat a blonde girl, yellow dress and black hat. He chanced a step in to the courtyard, crunching snow under his boots. “What’re you reading?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t startled her. He took another step into the courtyard. Tucking his own book into a pocket in his cloak, Sebastian’s wand was still in hand.

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Prongsy~. 18. Mountain. Lucas Grabeel.