Witty Tittle

There is a switch that is magically flipped once a young man turns 14 that suddenly makes life incredibly hard for a teen. By 15 you would expect some sort of coping mechanism to have developed, sorry to disappoint. This story is not about a witty young man who had a grade a grasp on the beginning of the rest of his life. This is a story about a young man who spent his summers with a house elf and his christmases in a lonely dungeon common room. But Matt was not one to feel sorry for himself, at least that's what he told himself.

The weekends meant time spent outside for Lestrange. It had been the warmest days since before Christmas all week and he was ready to take advantage of the melted snow that weekend. Finding himself increasingly more annoyed at the presence of the first years at the Slytherin breakfast table he made his way towards the great lake with a book. "1001 Curses and How to Cast Them" had been on his reading least for at least a year now and feeling happy enough to actually entertain the idea of one of his hobbies, he took the plunge.

Of course, no trip to the lake would be complete with his special something. He carefully pulled the wrapped herbs out of his pocket and sat down beneath the shade of the large tree. Pulling out his wand and muttering "Incendio" to light the tip of the spliff he paused as he heard a twig snap behind him.

Was paranoia setting in already?

The society of one Jack Dyllan was not one of depth.

It was a society of alibis and unwitting accomplices. Her friendships were not of true kinship for that required a familiar sense she did not know how to encourage. The few people that had almost drawn near to her, Amelia, Chase, James, even Elijah… she would need to allow them in deeper and she wasn’t confident enough in their ability to swim to allow them into those murky waters.

So she did not question her incessant need (it was, wasn’t it, seeing as she could not and did not want, to stop) for mischief. If it drove people away, all the better. The people that were her people were the desperate and destitute, the failures, the unregarded. She doubted the disapproval they felt at her would be lasting.

Christmas at Hogwarts was sad but she brought the party. Of the less than a dozen or so of students that remained, each was offered a hearty swig of contraband whiskey and offered the invitation of an adventure into the Forbidden Forest or through one of the more haunted corridors. Now, at fifteen, she felt age beyond her years and as she snuck her fellow forgotten peers into the overgrown greenhouse, she felt that all she could bring to those around her was a sense of youthful hedonism, a sense of lighting the world on fire. Each Christmas holiday ended with a long bout of detention and the comradery faded quickly as she slipped back into her more solitary ways. But each time was worth it.

Because when you could not imagine the future, the destruction of it was something of a relief.

Quidditch into class into class into detention into Quidditch and shit her body hurt. It was almost a warm night. She was considering a float in the lake, accompanied by magical flames and a sense of quietude. Even loud Jack Dyllan needed a moment of quiet.

And because she needed it, of course she was prevented.

F-cking Lestrange.

She let out a sigh but it turned into a laugh as she walked forward, flopping onto her arse. “Alright, hand it over.”

The abrupt arrival of a second person was not necessarily the worst thing that could happen. Perhaps it was one of his class friends who had followed. If it was Vincent it might even be welcome, he had offered to share some of the very same magical strain he was about to inhale. Unfortunately, life is not so just and occasionally, more often than he would like, it is cruel.

All he had seen was the flash of her hair as she slumped down next to him already reaching for his untouched roll. He quickly pulled it away and took a hefty drag in order to prepare himself for this interaction. It was not that he didn't like Jack it was just that Jack was loud. And he didn't want to necessarily be as noticeable as people in her company usually do. However, as finished his puff the thought that maybe this wouldn't be so bad crossed into his mind.

He then passed the joint to Dylan, as he exhaled towards the lake. Watching the sun break through the cloud of smoke he took a deep sigh.

"Careful, that's some special stuff." he let out at the end of the sigh.

Jack was many things but unaware she was not. People did not exactly sigh in relief at her appearance. She was a (let’s put it nicely) challenge. Not easy company, though she would easily call herself exciting.

But she was no snitch. And he was handing over the joint so she took it with a smile to herself.

Riley was the perfect son - and despite the opposition managed to pull off being almost the perfect brother. Mum and Dad out for the night? He invited her to a mate’s party, where had a blast drinking and wrestling with the idiot rugby players she felt so at home with? Grounded while Mum was on a business trip? Riley was outside her window, offering a cigarette on the roof while they complained about how awful the woman was.

So the J was a welcome sense of nostalgia, of family, as she took it from him with no sense of ceremony. A deep pull, a controlled exhale, and her hand fell to the soft ground. Somewhere under the placid glass surface was her friend the Giant Squid and she wondered what night was to such a creature.

“Breaking out the special stuff?” she teased, always the antagonist. “Oh no, got an E when you expected an O? Poor, poor Lestrange.”

"Careful Dylan, or I'll give you an E where you should have an O" he said with feign anger as he took his roll back for another puff.

He was honestly surprised that she was the only one to find him. In fairness, he was lucky enough to be the first to the spot under the tree. This was prime real estate for people and squid watching. All worries of company escaped his mind as his mind focused on a ripple on the water. Was the giant squid coming out to play?

"Do you ever wonder if we're just a ripple on the surface of the universe?" he said pointing out to where he spotted the ripple. This would be the first time that Lestrange offered a conversation starter to Jack. He often found himself butting into conversations midway and it was almost nice to be the one in control of the topic. He leaned his arm out to signify that Dylan should take the joint.

"You pulling a prank on the giant squid?"

She rolled her eyes, lolling her face towards him, and her meaning was clear. I have no hopes for an O. An O doesn’t take just talent but effort and was Jack known to be a good student? No. Sometimes decent in her studies, sure, but an avid learner she was not. Quidditch would be her ticket to financial freedom. And that did not take good grades.

She snorted at his question, and her smile and tone were wry as she said, “You’re stoned.” She had grown up sooner than was ideal but could find humor in the thought. She felt philosophy beyond the scope of what she had time to consider. “A ripple means something is hungry.”

Her pull was long and satisfying. She ran her fingers along the blades of grass as he released a stream of sweet smoke, handing the cigarette towards him, surprised it had been rolled so well. “No pranks. The squid is my only friend, y’know?”

Enjoying the breeze on his face he somehow found a spot to lean further back against the tree trunk. He couldn't help but giggle, the head rush had come on a bit sooner than anticipated. Well, that's what happens when you spent the week writing essays into the evenings and passing out in the library. There was no time to enjoy the finer things in life.

Where neither he nor Dylan were the finer characters in life he did have to appreciate that they both seemed to be oddballs. Neither were they outsiders nor where they "in" with the popular crowd. Jack had her pranks and personality and Lestrange had...well he had...

He could roll a fine joint and be to the kitchens and back to the common room for he and his circle quicker than any other Slytherin.

He also had to admit he frequently ran into Hufflepuffs on his snack runs and there was a bit of a silent respect between himself and other Hufflepuff 5th years. It was difficult to gauge his place on the social scale of Hogwarts. But that was something he best not worry about or else it might trigger a negative reaction. So, instead, he pulled his roll out of Dylan's fingers and, himself, took a lengthy drag.

He particularly liked the smell of this one. It reminded him of the Forbidden Forest at midnight, scary yet beautiful.

He chuckled at her response. "Well, you've one more than me, Dylan" he sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the spot he thought the ripple was. "But if you'd like to introduce me sometime I'm sure I would enjoy his company."

Yeah he was stoned.

He was a regular at those awkward Christmas dinners but she could not but think he inspired towards more. It was almost comforting to see him in this repose of blatant antipathy.

She was not alone in that at least.

“I call him Brutus but honestly who knows. He’s not the most forthcoming companion.” “She handed over the joint and felt her shoulder blades relax against the almost damp ground. Within a matter of hours she would be flying in the grey of the hour. She should spend her free time on a Potions essay but this was indeed a unique circumstance. “Seeking the squid, eh? Class that disappointing?”

"If I have to sit through Binns talk about the location and names of the workers who placed every brick in Gringotts for one more week I am going to jump into this damn lake and introduce myself to the squid." he said with a look of disgust.

He let himself feel the grass between his fingers as she puffed again. Completely disregarding the earlier obsession with the ripple he suddenly felt compelled to ask her a personal question.

"What's it like when you tell your parents stuff about Hogwarts?" he asked her with an inquisitive look. Keeping his tone devoid of any tone that might convey malice he continued. "Like, your parents probably struggle to really understand that their daughter is a school sports star."

He couldn't imagine what that would be like for Dylan. It's not like he had much to compare to, really. He saw his father once ever few weeks and it was usually for a few hours. So there really was nobody to tell about his accomplishments. That's probably why he didn't end up trying for Quidditch. His house elf's only job was to literally serve and respect him. Who knew what Duffy actually meant when he complimented Lestrange.

Jack laughed.

She dealt in laughter. On a good day it was what she inspired, but on an off day she hoped to find it somewhere. Riley was so serious, her mum so unhappy, that glee seemed to be the richest form of rebellion she could aspire to - it was unfortunately difficult to seek in a dreary life of mediocrity.

“It’s like… Goldilocks tasting the porridge. Not only is it totally unsatisfying but it’s totally fantasy.” She has sat up by now, ripping off first sneakers and then socks, before squirming closer to the bank to let her bare feet to slip into the lake. Almost a dare to the squid to be dragged under. “They don’t know or care what Quidditch is. Witchcraft is a four letter word, my friend,” and she’s tapping on his forearm for that joint. “We don’t all have a Name to live up to.”