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Post by Alexander Lyzander Catley on May 5, 2010 22:18:35 GMT -5
It is a popular cliché to tell one not to judge a book by it's cover. The moral behind the whole thing is that you might not be able to tell the quality of a book just by the appearance of it's binding. However, thus was not the sort of phrase to be using around many people like Alexander Lyzander Catley. The young Hufflepuff had an...innate ability to judge a book by it's cover. More often, the boy could tell things about the owner at the time they had the book. It was a bit like a security camera that only caught emotions and extremely repetitive thoughts. In some ways it was a blessing. He could probably score a job working as some sort of detective official. Alexander would be quite suitable in those sort of things. On the other hand, it could also be as annoying as hell. For instance, Alexander found it quite distracting when brushing against people in the halls or touching the ancient walls of Hogwarts. Frustration could easily catch a hold of the fifth year student and it drove him mad that only certain things, generally his own objects, held a haven for him. However, not always did the bad moods plague him. Oftentimes, one might find him in a rather strange mood. He would seem to try to touch everything, feeding off of the tales they told to him. It was almost an addiction some days. It was strange, this kid. Maybe he was defected like a bad computer program. He hadn't yet met anyone like him, that was for sure. Not anyone that was a natural, anyway. Sure you had those people who took the elective, but still. Alexander struggled with this idea. He felt that his potential as a Psychometrist was being wasted. Maybe if there was someone like him but more experienced, he could learn to read more accurately and precisely. He hadn't approached the professor though. People in power made him uncomfortable. Was there the possibility that he could get distinct visions of the past rather than be bombarded with vague ideas? Was it possible to do the same with people? The thought both excited him and chilled him to the bone.
In effect to that stimulus, Mr. Catley's hand glided more quickly over the covers of the heavy-binded leather book. He held the book like he was reading it, his fingers lining up instinctively where the last persons' did; his eyes remained shut, his lips unmoving. Infact, he was not reading the book. He rather felt it an enjoyable past time to find a bunch of books without labels on their binding, which wasn't that hard in that musty old place, and try to guess what type of book they were by the thoughts he got off the book. Sad books were the easiest, duly followed by the mystery genre, which preceded the romance. He tried to avoid the romantic books like they were the plague. He couldn't understand why people were so prone to love. Even if he weren't strange, Alexander would still have found the idea of being committed to one person boring, alien, and trapping. It was almost similar to being signed up for a spot in a guillotine line.
Luckily no one would be up at the library at this time. It was very early, the sun was just now breaking a purple sky into a lighter pink. The air smelt of rain, which was hardly surprising with the extreme chance of rain for yet another day. This had been the fourth time it had happened consecutively. Inside the library it was dry though. It smelt of that old bookstore scent and was quieter than a coffin. The only sounds that were heard were those of the librarian (who's name Alexander managed to forget way more than was appropriate), walking around the library, putting books on shelves, etc. and Alexander himself. He had decided to wear something less formal that his robes and instead wore a pair of worn-in jeans and a shirt under a brown and green striped hoodie. Alexander's auburn hair looked darker than it had in quite a while, and he liked to blame it on the lack of sun he'd been getting lately. Inside his jacket his wand laid snugly to rest. Sleepiness gaining on himself, Alexander unknowingly let his head drift down on top of "Jeriope: The Tale of Twelve Trumpeters". Green eyes managed to flutter like a hummingbird's wings before they lost the battle to sleep.
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Post by Rosalie Haynes on May 7, 2010 20:04:00 GMT -5
--It was early...too early, for the little blond professor. Her wavy hair was pulled back into a loose pony tail, and she had on casual clothes, jeans and a nice flowy long-sleeved top. But she wore her professor robes over them, but it was left open, billowing behind her as she walked down the corridors. Few students were up, which she didn't blame them, she didn't even want to be awake herself, but she couldn't sleep. What a surprise. Even the ghosts weren't out wreaking havoc on the ancients hallways and rooms of the castle. She had been walking around, just exploring. This had been her home as a student, and she had loved every minute of it.
--And especially the library. That's where she would go. A small smirk played across her lips as she remembered her favorite hiding place. Among the books she felt right at home. Everything about the library drew her in. From the nice, peaceful silence, to the warm cozy smell of the ancient books. There wasn't anything she didn't like about the place. She remembered especially how she loved the books about magical creatures. Everyone told her that's what she should've taught, was the care of them, but muggle studies had just caught her attention. Maybe if students knew more about the Muggles, they wouldn't be so stereotypical.
--On the other hand, she had grown up in the magical world, among her parents. But they had been visiting family in the muggle world, so she knew how things worked. Muggles just didn't understand, nor would they probably ever understand. They just couldn't accept it. Magic was foreign to them, but Rosalie didn't know if she could ever live without it. Rose had been gifted with being a water elemental. She always a small pouch or something with water in it. Usually she wore a small container on a string around her neck.
--Rose reached the library sooner than she thought. But this was most like her. She was known for getting absorbed in her thoughts and forgetting all time and place. She yawned as she crossed the threshold into the library. The serence peace surrounded her as she walked to her favorite section. Picking up a well worn book, holding it, glancing at the title. This was where she was perfectly content, amongst her books. Then she began wandering around, from isle to isle, just browsing.
--As she passed she saw a young boy sitting in a chair, asleep, a book resting in his lap. This would've been her a while back. The book was falling off. Rose didn't want the boy to loose his place. Rose knelt beside him and gently nudged his shoulder. She hated waking him up. But it was better to sleep in a nice warm bed than in the library, even if it seemed better.
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Post by Alexander Lyzander Catley on May 8, 2010 21:31:06 GMT -5
If there was one thing that the men in the Hufflepuff Boys' Dorm could tell you, it was that Alexander didn't take well to being woken up. It was simply taboo. Not only would he probably freak out on the person, which is strange for Alexander to do to begin with. Additionally, it generally wasn't a pleasant experience for him. While most people in Hogwarts knew what he was, they didn't know what it was like in most cases and they often forgot to avoid touching him when the shook him awake or poked his arm. A wave of emotion and history of the antagonist would flow into Alexander's sub-conscience and it might form abstract dreams if he didn't wake quickly enough from the torrent of the person's past. He seemed much more vulnerable to people when he was unconscious. Additionally, Alexander just didn't enjoy he woke up.
Thus, it was understandable that when Professor Haynes shook him gently, Alexander had the expression of a hellish deer in spotlights from point one. She hadn't touched his skin though, so there were no adverse Psychometrist side-effects luckily. There was no midway between sleep and wakefulness for Alexander. Nay, he snapped his eyes open immediately. He blinked about sixty two million, four thousand times before his eyes adjusted to the lighting in the library and with the reality that not a student or the librarian — Mrs. Hegiras, was it? — had waken him up. No, it was a professor. He could tell that by the cloak she was wearing. It was nice to see a professor up at this time, and wearing informal clothing all the while, but he felt out of place suddenly. He was pretty sure he recognized who she was. Though he had not really any interest in her classes, she was the Muggle Studies professor. Honestly he had his own troubles to be worrying about to put too much time on the discrimination on muggles or their ignorance of the wizarding worlds. It was like studying ants, probably.
"Sorry, Professor, did you need this book?" He couldn't think of another single reason why a woman with so many responsibilities would have found her way into the musty old library this early in the morning. "Or did you need me?" It sounded stupid as she probably didn't know who he was even, but if she was truly looking for him, Alexander had been found indeed. Mr. Catley closed the book he had fallen asleep on. He rolled his eyes at it's general plot. Lousy author indeed. Probably a louse-y author as well. He ruffled his hair in agreement. Holding back a yawn, he studied the small woman with vague interest. Alexander wondered what sort of crazy thing had happened next. With such important people - like the Deputy Ministress of Magic! - being attacked, he was unsure of what could actually take him by surprise anymore.
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