Title: Fairen Fall (2/?)
Author: Mithara
Summary: Ryn settles in. Harry shows him their room; Hermione quizzes Ryn on history (falling in love in the process), the gang studies, and the seeds of a disaster are planted.
Author's Note: AU Fic! This is serious revisionist history. See part 1 for explanation. I blithely invent history, feel free to mock or use, as you will.
Disclaimer: None of these characters, save Ryn, are mine. If they were, they would be much less happy, and much less dressed. So don't sue me. You'll get a wet cast and a bit of lint.
~*~*~*~
When they made it to the common room, most of the other students had already arrived, and had settled into their nooks and crannies for a night of study. Or not. "Oi!" A voice cut across the burble of the room, and an almost identical one followed it.
"You're the new one, right?" The two owners, both tall and lanky and obviously Ron Weasly's close relations hopped nimbly one after the other over the ottoman that was keeping them from meeting the new kid. "I'm Fred, he's George. Those are our names, what's yours?"
Ryn blinked as Ron rolled his eyes to the sky, raising his hands in mock- supplication. Then a sudden smile stretched across Ryn's face, the firelight giving his features a healthier cast. "I'm Ryn. Nice to meet you, Fred, George." He nodded to each in turn, making a small, surprised noise as George accosted his shoulder in friendly fashion.
"Think noting of it! It's good to have you in the best House in the world! Do you play Quiddich?" George's eyes lit as he moved onto his favorite subject, not even noticing when Ryn wriggled out of his grip.
With a conspiratory smile, Harry herded Ryn away from the overly enthusiastic Fred and George, who were reenacting the move that they claimed was responsible for winning the 1983 World Quiddich Cup, with complete motions.
Ryn allowed himself to be herded, Ron settled in to his chair behind the table, and Hermione opened a heavy tome, to continue her ongoing crusade - doomed from the start to fail, of course - to enlighten one to the boys in her coterie to the joys of History.
~*~*~*~
"So. Do you play Quiddich?" Harry asked as he padded up the stairs, Ryn following with soundless tread.
"I used to. Hurt my shoulder." Well, it was true enough. He'd played seeker, with the kids from the mountain town his parents lived in, and had dislocated his shoulder no fewer than seven times over the years. Not that that had ever stopped him for more than a few days. It had nothing to do with why he didn't play anymore. He glanced up at Harry with a rueful smile. "Can't play anymore."
"That's awful." Harry grimaced, pushing the door open and slipping in to spread his arms wide. "Welcome to our humble abode." With a sunny grin, he pushed his glasses up his nose while pointing with the other hand, listing each bed's occupants. "That one's Neville's, Seamus', Dean's, Ron's, Mine, and. That must be yours, over in the corner." Indeed there was another bed in the room, with the same heavy maroon bed curtains, and the ubiquitous heavy chest at its foot. "Go on, make yourself at home, come back down when you're ready. Hermione can help you with any classes you have trouble with, if you want. She's the expert at that sort of thing." With a polite nod, Harry left, leaving Ryn in the silent room to finish unpacking.
There wasn't much to unpack, really, the house elves had taken care of his clothes, his wand was in his pocket, his cauldron already in the chest, with his Potions supplies in it, and all of his other things weren't out of quarantine yet. With a quiet sigh - the first noise since Harry had left the room - he picked up his books, tucked a quill behind his ear, and hoped that they had plenty of parchment to spare.
~*~*~*~
"He seems nice enough, doesn't he?" Ron asked, as Harry took his spot at the table, leaving one open at the end.
Harry grinned, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes. "He does. Doesn't play Quiddich, but he said he used to, so maybe we can talk about it? Strategy and all that."
With a disdainful sniff, Hermione mock glared at the twosome, expounding vociferously. "Quiddich is not the end-all and be-all, Harry! You of all people should know that. Alright, the Hun's invasion of Europe and consequential interruption of the Seventeenth convention for the rights of non-human minorities and it's ramifications on the interaction with the indigenous shamans of the Steppe. Ron, you take the text." She sat down, dipped her quill in the ink, and had it poised to begin taking notes.
Ron, desperate for an excuse not to read, spotted Ryn coming down the stairs, weighed down by an armload of books. "Oi! Ryn! Over here!" He waved energetically, and didn't exhale until the boy was settling into the empty chair.
"What're you studying?" Ryn asked quietly, setting his books in a neat pile on the corner of the table. Then he caught a glance of the book in front of Ron, who was seated to his right, and smiled with delight. "That was the convention when Torrey of Drooble turned half of the invading army's horses green, isn't it? That was one of my favorite chapters in 'Relations of the Wizards of Western Europe with Indigenous Peoples: An Overview'."
Ron and Harry just looked stunned, as if Ryn had abruptly sprouted a second head. Hermione looked stunned, as if her breath had been stolen away, and small hearts seemed to be floating around her ears. "How did you know that?" Ron exclaimed, looking somewhat horrified.
Ryn looked hugely confused. "Didn't everyone have Western European History?"
With an unbelieving grin, Ron nodded. "Yeah! But who could learn anything from Binns? He's dead!" Ryn looked suddenly stricken, but Ron didn't notice, he was so busy explaining how boring Binns was, and how all the other Ghosts were cooler, why couldn't one of them teach history, if they seemed so set on it?
Hermione and Harry didn't miss the look, but both seemingly ignored it. "Some people happened to be paying attention second year." Hermione intoned at Ron, glaring hotly. Then, with a start, she sent a disbelieving stare at Ryn. "Western European? You've done more than that? And you actually remember?" A boy who actually paid attention in classes? Oh happy day.
Ryn seemed vaguely amused at Hermione's awed look. "Well, we did Oriental history last year, and Eastern European the year before that. I was going to be doing African and Islamic wizardry this year. The whirling dervishes do all sorts of neat thing with." He trailed off, red suffusing his cheeks. "What are we working on?"
Hermione shook herself out of her stupor, beaming brightly at him. "Well, since these dolts are never going to understand History, I thought we'd go over our Defense homework, since we have a writing assignment due tomorrow."
Ron's brow furrowed, and he bit his lower lip, deep in thought. Then remembrance dawned, and he interjected, interrupting Hermione mid-word as she explained the requirements for the assignment. "Oh, you're supposed to go talk to Lupin. Something about a collaborative effort with the Ministry or. something."
Ryn looked up from the book he'd been examining, and nodded. "Alright. If there's not anything else you want me for.?"
The three shook their heads, so Ryn stood, leaving his books in a neat pile at the corner of the table, and padded out of the common room.
~*~*~*~
As they were finishing their papers on the Sallucco curse, Ron looked up from his minimum-length parchment, an ink stain on the left side of his nose. "What is the next thing we're doing in class anyway, Herm?"
With a disdainful glare for the nickname, Hermione drew herself up, snubbed nose loftily raised. "If you were capable of keeping and reading your syllabus, Ronald, you would know that for the next three weeks, we're doing Vampires."
Author: Mithara
Summary: Ryn settles in. Harry shows him their room; Hermione quizzes Ryn on history (falling in love in the process), the gang studies, and the seeds of a disaster are planted.
Author's Note: AU Fic! This is serious revisionist history. See part 1 for explanation. I blithely invent history, feel free to mock or use, as you will.
Disclaimer: None of these characters, save Ryn, are mine. If they were, they would be much less happy, and much less dressed. So don't sue me. You'll get a wet cast and a bit of lint.
~*~*~*~
When they made it to the common room, most of the other students had already arrived, and had settled into their nooks and crannies for a night of study. Or not. "Oi!" A voice cut across the burble of the room, and an almost identical one followed it.
"You're the new one, right?" The two owners, both tall and lanky and obviously Ron Weasly's close relations hopped nimbly one after the other over the ottoman that was keeping them from meeting the new kid. "I'm Fred, he's George. Those are our names, what's yours?"
Ryn blinked as Ron rolled his eyes to the sky, raising his hands in mock- supplication. Then a sudden smile stretched across Ryn's face, the firelight giving his features a healthier cast. "I'm Ryn. Nice to meet you, Fred, George." He nodded to each in turn, making a small, surprised noise as George accosted his shoulder in friendly fashion.
"Think noting of it! It's good to have you in the best House in the world! Do you play Quiddich?" George's eyes lit as he moved onto his favorite subject, not even noticing when Ryn wriggled out of his grip.
With a conspiratory smile, Harry herded Ryn away from the overly enthusiastic Fred and George, who were reenacting the move that they claimed was responsible for winning the 1983 World Quiddich Cup, with complete motions.
Ryn allowed himself to be herded, Ron settled in to his chair behind the table, and Hermione opened a heavy tome, to continue her ongoing crusade - doomed from the start to fail, of course - to enlighten one to the boys in her coterie to the joys of History.
~*~*~*~
"So. Do you play Quiddich?" Harry asked as he padded up the stairs, Ryn following with soundless tread.
"I used to. Hurt my shoulder." Well, it was true enough. He'd played seeker, with the kids from the mountain town his parents lived in, and had dislocated his shoulder no fewer than seven times over the years. Not that that had ever stopped him for more than a few days. It had nothing to do with why he didn't play anymore. He glanced up at Harry with a rueful smile. "Can't play anymore."
"That's awful." Harry grimaced, pushing the door open and slipping in to spread his arms wide. "Welcome to our humble abode." With a sunny grin, he pushed his glasses up his nose while pointing with the other hand, listing each bed's occupants. "That one's Neville's, Seamus', Dean's, Ron's, Mine, and. That must be yours, over in the corner." Indeed there was another bed in the room, with the same heavy maroon bed curtains, and the ubiquitous heavy chest at its foot. "Go on, make yourself at home, come back down when you're ready. Hermione can help you with any classes you have trouble with, if you want. She's the expert at that sort of thing." With a polite nod, Harry left, leaving Ryn in the silent room to finish unpacking.
There wasn't much to unpack, really, the house elves had taken care of his clothes, his wand was in his pocket, his cauldron already in the chest, with his Potions supplies in it, and all of his other things weren't out of quarantine yet. With a quiet sigh - the first noise since Harry had left the room - he picked up his books, tucked a quill behind his ear, and hoped that they had plenty of parchment to spare.
~*~*~*~
"He seems nice enough, doesn't he?" Ron asked, as Harry took his spot at the table, leaving one open at the end.
Harry grinned, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes. "He does. Doesn't play Quiddich, but he said he used to, so maybe we can talk about it? Strategy and all that."
With a disdainful sniff, Hermione mock glared at the twosome, expounding vociferously. "Quiddich is not the end-all and be-all, Harry! You of all people should know that. Alright, the Hun's invasion of Europe and consequential interruption of the Seventeenth convention for the rights of non-human minorities and it's ramifications on the interaction with the indigenous shamans of the Steppe. Ron, you take the text." She sat down, dipped her quill in the ink, and had it poised to begin taking notes.
Ron, desperate for an excuse not to read, spotted Ryn coming down the stairs, weighed down by an armload of books. "Oi! Ryn! Over here!" He waved energetically, and didn't exhale until the boy was settling into the empty chair.
"What're you studying?" Ryn asked quietly, setting his books in a neat pile on the corner of the table. Then he caught a glance of the book in front of Ron, who was seated to his right, and smiled with delight. "That was the convention when Torrey of Drooble turned half of the invading army's horses green, isn't it? That was one of my favorite chapters in 'Relations of the Wizards of Western Europe with Indigenous Peoples: An Overview'."
Ron and Harry just looked stunned, as if Ryn had abruptly sprouted a second head. Hermione looked stunned, as if her breath had been stolen away, and small hearts seemed to be floating around her ears. "How did you know that?" Ron exclaimed, looking somewhat horrified.
Ryn looked hugely confused. "Didn't everyone have Western European History?"
With an unbelieving grin, Ron nodded. "Yeah! But who could learn anything from Binns? He's dead!" Ryn looked suddenly stricken, but Ron didn't notice, he was so busy explaining how boring Binns was, and how all the other Ghosts were cooler, why couldn't one of them teach history, if they seemed so set on it?
Hermione and Harry didn't miss the look, but both seemingly ignored it. "Some people happened to be paying attention second year." Hermione intoned at Ron, glaring hotly. Then, with a start, she sent a disbelieving stare at Ryn. "Western European? You've done more than that? And you actually remember?" A boy who actually paid attention in classes? Oh happy day.
Ryn seemed vaguely amused at Hermione's awed look. "Well, we did Oriental history last year, and Eastern European the year before that. I was going to be doing African and Islamic wizardry this year. The whirling dervishes do all sorts of neat thing with." He trailed off, red suffusing his cheeks. "What are we working on?"
Hermione shook herself out of her stupor, beaming brightly at him. "Well, since these dolts are never going to understand History, I thought we'd go over our Defense homework, since we have a writing assignment due tomorrow."
Ron's brow furrowed, and he bit his lower lip, deep in thought. Then remembrance dawned, and he interjected, interrupting Hermione mid-word as she explained the requirements for the assignment. "Oh, you're supposed to go talk to Lupin. Something about a collaborative effort with the Ministry or. something."
Ryn looked up from the book he'd been examining, and nodded. "Alright. If there's not anything else you want me for.?"
The three shook their heads, so Ryn stood, leaving his books in a neat pile at the corner of the table, and padded out of the common room.
~*~*~*~
As they were finishing their papers on the Sallucco curse, Ron looked up from his minimum-length parchment, an ink stain on the left side of his nose. "What is the next thing we're doing in class anyway, Herm?"
With a disdainful glare for the nickname, Hermione drew herself up, snubbed nose loftily raised. "If you were capable of keeping and reading your syllabus, Ronald, you would know that for the next three weeks, we're doing Vampires."