rEtUrNiNg fEaSt

[Only admins are allowed to see this image]

^ except with a big pretty ornate box on center stage ^

^ oh and not dumbledore bc he's been dead for like 21 years

^ who are those creepy-lookin guys along the walls........

Josiah was sitting at the Gryffindor table with all of his buddies. Matilda took her seat at the Slytherin table, with her friends. Both of them were rather curious about the rather ornate box on the stage.

(seriously though if all the teachers are at the table who are those people)

Eustace tugged at his navy-blue tie. Milly had jabbed nonstop at the way it clashed with his hair on their brief train ride to Kings' Cross. Did it really? Why did it matter? He looked around, praying he could spot a familiar face among his fellow "intellectuals".

Trenton, was up there, studying the other First years around him. They were all much taller than him, but he didn't mind. He liked being small. It made it easier to get around sneakishly. He smirked down at his feet.

And thus began the sorting. The painfully-nondescript Defense teacher, entering his second year of work, had been assigned the weighty task of reading off the names. "Addison, Eric." His voice cracked slightly as he began -- an unfortunate quality he'd developed around the age of sixteen that he'd yet to rid himself of.

(School Aurors, duh.)

[what





go away i forget how any of this works]

(I don't know I made that up.)

And then the sorting finished. The buzz of students talking filled the air momentarily before McGonagall stepped up to explain the presence of the oddly-shaped box on center stage. There was a peculiar hesitance about her that only the keenest of bodies could have reckoned. "I hold no doubt that tales of a wager for eternal glory... fame, wealth, deserved pride and all that entail... have been passed on to a number of you by those you may know as former students here. It has been about a quarter of a century since such an event has been held at this institution... and it is my honor to inform you that... once again, we will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament on our grounds." The murmur rose with a vengeance at this, only to be cut cleanly by "Settle, settle."

The headmistress continues, "The Tournament is a hallowed tradition surviving through centuries of... misdemeanors and tragedies... and is shared by two other magical schools on our continent. It consists of three events... in which three students -- one from each of the represented schools -- will participate... At this point, I ask you all to stand and welcome the factions of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and the Durmstrang Institute."

Everyone stands and butterflies and firebreathing and shit yes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

And so, the Durmstrang students chose to sit at the Slytherin table, and Beauxbatons pupils at the Ravenclaw table. McGonagall continued her explanation of the Triwizard Tournament, and both Matilda and Josiah were only half-listening once it was announced that this was for seventh-years only. Matilda happened to catch the eyes of a Durmstrang boy, who was rather... chiseled. Then again, all Durmstrang boys were.

Or, rather, all Durmstrang men. Hello.

AND THEN DOWNS PUBERTY AND HORMONES AMOK

(tihihihihihihillyhyhyhyhyhyhy)

And then, food.

During the feast, Matilda turned to the especially chiseled and rather handsome Durmstrang boy--correction, man--that she had noticed earlier.

"Hello," she said, taking a bite out of her mashed potatoes. Yum. It was nice to get away from Libby's shitty cooking. Matilda's mom may be a wonderful businesswoman, and a good person (sometimes), but she's a horrid housewife.

"Hello," he said with a rather exaggerated nod, and in mimicry, took a bite from his own plate.

Matilda tried not to laugh at his accent.

"What's your name?" she asked, again taking a bite, this time of those Italian-cut green beans. Oh, yes. Much better than Libby's.

"Name? Ahh, Elias," he answered. He had a habit of nodding when he spoke, similar to a parrot. "You? And you?"

"Matilda," said she in response, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Elias." She offered one of her half-smiles-half-smirks.

Elias flashed a grin back -- one rather ambiguous in nature. "Matilda. Nice to meet you, also."

"Do you know where you'll be staying?" asked Matilda, out of curiosity. Then she mentally slapped herself. That sounds like she's trying to come on really strong. Erugh. No. No.

"On, ahh... On the boat?" He made an odd motion toward the door. "On the...? Lake. On the lake." Clearly, Elias' English skills weren't the most polished.

Matilda felt a grin spread across her face. The fact that he was barely proficient in English was... cute. In its own weird way. "Oh, on the lake! That's right, you came by ship..."

"Yeah!" Elias exclaimed with another nod, turning to face her on the bench as was polite when you were speaking to someone (he presumed this was going to last at least another minute or two).

And so, they began to talk. Their conversation lasted through most of the remainder of the feast, surprisingly enough.

It went very well and, though their bellies weren't as full as they could have been, they were both quite satisfied.

They bid each other good night, and headed off to their respective sleeping quarters. "Good night, Elias."

"Good night!" Respective sleeping quarters.