What to do on a day like this (Moony)

Jim's eyes narrowed, forcing his vision to magnify down onto the thin strip of quill he was attempting to cut. See, Jim's family wasn't exactly the most wealthy out of the wizarding families, especially since he only had a mom to take care of him and his sister. And because of this, and the fact that there was no Hogsmeade weekend that he knew of any time soon, he resorted to making his own quills. Now, surely there was a spell for this, but since Jim's knowledge extended only to facts that had been taught in school, or referred to by teachers, he did not know anything that might cut quills. Diffindo could be a possibility, but since it is not very precise, he decided not to use it and instead stick to the muggle way.



A pair of scissors, a kitchen knife laid beside him, and in his grip was a box-cutting knife, his thumb on the back of the blade. With one sweeping movement of his fingers, his muscles in his hand tensed and the blade severed the back of the quill off. It was a little rough, but that was easy enough to shave. He had only achieved cutting the back off of the quill two times before, this being his third. A touch of a smile played on his lips, but it faded as he got back to work, his fingers moving fast and nimbly to shave the cut clean, and make the tip pointed.



This took quite some time, and when it was finished, he took a moment to lean back and relax his eyes. He had been at this nearly half an hour, not to mention the prep work of making the quill stiff. He closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them again, as they began to shift around the room. Not many people were here, and it was understandable. With the dance going on and such a beautiful day outside. Even James was slightly taken aback realizing he was still indoors. A couple was quietly giggling in a corner, softly whispering to one another. A couple other people seemed to be writing on parchment, but it was unlikely to be homework, since they were on break. Maybe reviewing, they did look like they could possibly be in fifth year. Jim twisted the nearly finished quill in between his fingers. Higher year students always made him nervous, especially Ravenclaw. Jim liked feeling smart, and anyone above his intellect posed as a sort of threat to him.




He disregarded that thought. Obviously he would get to their level in time, but for now, back to the quill. His neck bent down uncomfortably once again so he could examine the quill. All he had to do now was make a notch and cut the tip. After that, he examined it, and gave a satisfied nod. This would, at least until he could buy one made from someone with more experience. He pushed his chair back and stood, grabbing his wand up off the small lantern-lit table and waved it silently. The knives and scissors floated up off the table, and settled themselves in a small brown box he used to store his quill-things. He then waved his wand again, and the box floated up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.



Jim then stood there for a moment, watching if float up and around the corner before it disappeared, in which case he sat back down. With no homework to do, and no one to go outside with, his day seemed to make itself more dull by the moment. He had, of course, made friends at Hogwarts, but only perhaps a handful. Plus his sister, but she was most likely hanging with her Hufflepuff friends, in which case he didn't find the need to disturb her. He sighed, deciding he must at least occupy his time somehow. He strolled over to one of the many bookshelves and browsed the shelves for something he had not yet read. This wasn't an easy task, but he managed it, pulling off the shelf Transfiguration Gone Wrong, and scurried over to one of the midnight blue poofy chairs. He plopped down and turned open the book, beginning to scan the pages.

The fire set in the fireplace crackled and jumped, making the lighting uneven, but cozy all the same. The warm heat radiated around the room, keeping the cold from the outside at bay. The glow lit Jim's book and made it ideal for reading. His fingers flicked as he turned a page, finishing the second chapter. Really, it wasn't anything he hadn't read before. Basically, they were just accounts of people transfiguring themselves or others, or even prized pets, yet being unable to dis-transfigure themselves or others. Dis-transfiguration was in the fourth chapter of the textbook, so naturally Jim had read about it thoroughly.



His eyes flickered upward for a moment as someone entered the common room, then moved back to his book, but with unease. He knew the new arrival from somewhere. He looked back up, but she was gone. He twisted around in his chair, just catching a glimpse of her before she disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. He sat back in his chair, and stared at the hot galloping flames for a moment. She was a girl from his year, that's where he knew her from. She was a sixth year too. Was she in any of his classes? Jim thought for a moment, but could not think of any, so he returned to his book.



After about ten minutes, he saw a figure move, pause in front of his chair, then move to a seat somewhere to his right. Without moving his head, Jim looked up over the top of his book. The girl had come back down from the dormitory. Still, even with a good glimpse of her face, he could not remember her name. And it was a shame, because she was slightly pretty, too. He looked back into his book, but he was in a state of unrest, and his mind could no longer absorb the words on the page. Jim sighed, and thumped the book closed. He got up, and moved over to the book shelf and replaced it, going back to the couch, but this time, sitting on the other end, closer to the girl.



"Hey," Jim began, looking curiously at her. "I think, though I'm not sure, you're in my year, yeh?" he asked, but continued without pause for answer. "Only... I can't remember your name," he finished, nervously scratching a spot on his head.

"I see..." his voice trailed. It was appalling that he was attempting to engage in social interaction, but it was no shock that he wasn't doing too well. The girl seemed more anxious now, and obviously wanted to get back to her book, but he wasn't going to give up so easily. He had to try a little harder, hadn't he? It wasn't like he had anything to do, nor anything to lose.


His fingers found a loose thread on the couch, and he absentmindedly twisted it between his thumb and his forefinger. His brown eyes gazed at the girl across from him, he now knew to be named November. "I'm Jim," he told her, dumbly. "November is a cool name. Do you go by anything for short?" he asked. Lots of people had nicknames, so he figured she did too, since her name was sort of a mouth-full. "Jim is my short name. James Haven is my full," he told her, trying to smile comfortingly so she would be encouraged to talk.


Realizing it was quite hushed, his head turned to where the couple in the corner had previously been smacking obnoxiously, but they were no longer there. They seemed to have gone out for the day as well. Now it was just them, someone putting their books away probably to wander outside, and the orange leaping flames. And his owl, who sat on the mantel above the fireplace, eyeing him as if to scold him for acting so lamely. Jim returned a look as if to say Deal with it or leave, at which the barn owl spread it's wings and took off out of the common room. A pang of regret welled inside Jim, but he ignored it. His owl usually was a bit sassy.

"Yeh, it's mine," he told her, trailing off. He stared after the owl, remembering when he first got it. It was his 12th birthday present. His mum couldn't afford an owl for him in his first year, but he was pleasantly surprised by the birds as a gift from his mom. He did feel a bit guilty, taking so much money, but nevertheless he cared for the bird, no matter how it's mood swerved. Sighing, as the guilt built up even further, he decided he ought to go after it and apologize. It probably flew to the owlery to get away from people.


Jim stood, moving his head to look back at November. "I ought to go get him and bring him back," he told her, solemnly. "I expect he's gone to the owlery. Would you like to join me?" he asked, the thought a weak idea but one nonetheless. "I mean, I know the owlery isn't the most exciting place ever. You don't have to go if you don't want. Unless you want to deliver some post or something while we're there," he raised his shoulders and let them droop again in a small shrug.


Just then, Jim remembered he would have to coax the owl down somehow. He held up an index finger, indicating a moment of waiting, and he sped up to his dormitory. He pushed open the oak door and peered inside. None of his mates were currently in the room. Good. He didn't want to talk to them, as they weren't treating him very well at the moment. They were teasing him about personal things that didn't even concern him. He felt his face grow hot and decided to cast the thought out of his mind in order to maintain a calm demeanor. He trotted over to his bedside table, and pulled open a drawer. Inside lay a bag full of owl treats. He had found them at a small shop in diagon alley. They squeaked like mice when they were consumed, which for some reason Soren seemed to enjoy delightfully. He grabbed the bag and stuffed it into his pocket, grabbed his coat, and sped down the stone staircase, arriving back at the couch. "Sorry about that, had to grab some treats," he explained, smoothing his ruffled hair. "So, yeh wanna come?" he asked again.