If You Don't Succeed...Fall Over

[Reagan Scott H4]

Reagan felt her breathing rate increase, making her pant slightly, but nodded her head at the fifth year Hufflepuff holding her box of brightly coloured balls. “I can take another one.” Giggling in delight, the girl carefully tossed the dark blue juggling ball at her when Reagan nodded and smiled encouragingly. Grimacing inwardly, wishing that she could reach up to wipe away the small beads of sweat gathering on her forehead and trickling down her back, Reagan caught the ball deftly and tossed it up to join the other five balls in the air. “She’s up to six balls!” The small, dark-haired Ravenclaw squeaked excitedly, looking absolutely star-struck as she gazed at Reagan in pure adoration. Reagan smiled to herself, mostly concentrating on the balls passing from her hands to the air but capable of sparing some attention for her noisy crowd. Deliberately, Reagan let the yellow ball slip past her fingers, revelling in the hushed gasps of surprise and awe that passed through the crowd in the moments between the ball falling from her hand to her left foot kicking the ball back into the air so that Reagan could continue juggling seamlessly. There was applause for her newest trick and Reagan shifted her feet slightly, moving to a new position that allowed her to throw the balls back into the box one by one just as someone realised that everyone would be late for their first class after lunch if they didn’t start hurrying back inside the castle now.

“Just leave it there,” Reagan told the unsure looking girl in possession of her box. “I don’t have a class right now so I’ll take the stuff back inside later.” The girl looked doubtful, probably because the wooden chest was quite heavy and Reagan didn’t really appear very strong, but nodded and sprinted away anyway, catching up to her friends eagerly. Honestly; as if a circus girl wouldn't be used to carrying heavy items. Reagan shook her head derisively as she picked up the chest easily, moving to a part of the gardens that was more secluded, less likely to draw attention. Most people were in a lesson right now and she usually didn’t mind attention at all, but Reagan preferred to be alone when she was working on a new trick for the first time or trying to improve her skills in a certain area. There was a high possibility of failure and she hated to be laughed at. The half hour bout of juggling hadn’t just been to entertain everyone or cheer up the tearful first year that had had a bad experience with Professor Snape; it had warmed and stretched her muscles so that she didn’t have to do any warm up routines. Carefully, Reagan dropped the large box near a bush and knelt, fishing out four long pieces of fabric from underneath the bright balls that she used for juggling. Grimacing at the tight feeling, Reagan tied a piece of fabric around each wrist and ankle just as her mother had taught her. The strong fabric, although it looked ridiculous since it reached halfway up her forearms, would provide support for her wrists and ankles when she was performing her acrobatic stunts. She had forgotten to wrap them tight enough once and broken her right wrist, sprained her left wrist and foot and fractured her right foot. Rolling her eyes at the memory and her own foolishness, Reagan moved to the middle of her chosen area of grass and tested the four pieces of fabric conscientiously before checking the routine Dad had written down for her.

At first, the moves came easily to her. Reagan had, after all, been throwing herself into somersaults, cartwheels and handsprings since she was six years old. Mum had always been there to watch her at first, of course, but Reagan was a good acrobat and other things, more important things, had demanded Mum’s attention. Effortlessly, or so it appeared, Reagan tucked the piece of paper with her instructions into her pocket and then tossed herself in the air. Backwards somersault, double pike jump leading into a front handspring. Pause, back-flip, ground tumble, spring to feet, tuck jump, double cartwheel, toe-touch jump and end with a back handspring. Throughout the routine, Reagan repeated the instructions in her mind, concentrating more on the words than the movement of her body. After crashing to the ground for the seventh time – that back handspring was just evil, Reagan whined silently as her scattered bruises and grazes throbbed painfully – Reagan didn’t have the energy to force herself to her feet. Every muscle in her body ached, she had blood over her hands and arms because she had fallen and cut herself so many times, her head hurt from smacking against the ground and she desperately needed water. There was a bottle of water in her bag, next to the chest, but Reagan could only stare longingly at it, eyes slowly closing from exhaustion. She had gotten frustrated with her lack of success and pushed herself too far; she could almost hear the chiding voice of her Dad in her mind and feel the heavy weight of Mum’s amusement as she watched her husband gather their daughter into his arms while scolding her. She missed home.

Reagan sighed longingly, filled with thoughts of the carefree atmosphere that surrounded the travelling circus that she called home, and then opened her eyes. “No need to be weak, Reagan,” she told herself firmly, whimpering as her strained muscles protested because she was forcing herself to stand. “Mum wouldn’t allow it. Dad wouldn’t allow it. Even the boys would be laughing at you, and you would deserve it for acting so pathetic,” she reminded herself as she hobbled over to her bag, eyes closing in silent gratitude as she drained the bottle of water gratefully. Right. Reagan rolled her shoulder determinedly, tightened the bindings around her wrists and then started the routine all over again. Her concentration wavered when she spotted people watching her silently and, mid-backflip, Reagan crashed to the floor for the eighth time. Her head smacked against the ground but Reagan bit her lip to stop the pained cry rising up in her throat before pushing herself into a sitting position, gazing resentfully at the people watching her. “Was there something you wanted?” Reagan asked with a pained smile, wishing that her legs were steady enough for her to stand. Mum had drilled manners into her head, and she would be furious if her daughter didn’t act pleasantly, even if these people had interrupted her just when Reagan had hopes that she might finally land correctly after the back handspring.

[Gabriel Graas S4]

„Jared,“ Gabriel stated with a raised eye-brow upon sighting his brother. Jared was sitting in what looked to be a rather uncomfortable position on a tree-branch, playing a slow tune on his harmonica. It was slow and haunting and weary and it sounded rather like something suitable for a funeral. Jared didn’t give any sign of reaction so with a slight grimace at his new pants, Gabriel changed direction. Leaning his hands on top of the fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack, Gabriel hoisted himself over it rather easily, moving slower than usually only to avoid ripping his clothes. He was here with his shoot outfit still and he didn’t entire care to rip these just yet. Choosing where he put his feet – the ground was somewhat muddy – Gabriel walked on until he stood directly below the tree Jared had chosen to perch upon, before tilting his head back to peer up at him. Calling Jared by his name elicited no response again, so Gabriel reached up to yank on Jared’s leg. This made his younger brother send him a haughty glance down his nose but still no verbal response. Gabriel merely snickered in response to the glare, and yanked on Jared’s foot again: “Come on. I’m hungry. You can walk with me back to school and get a bite to eat as well, as showing up in the Great Hall after cutting class isn’t that smart,” he reasoned with his brother.

For about ten more seconds, Jared continued blowing the odd tune rather stiffly. But even though he was evidently in a bad mood, Gabriel had made sense and even with a bad mood, all his brothers were willing to listen to some common sense. Well, common sense, presuming it was someone from their immediate family stating it. Stuffing the harmonica into his pocket, Jared took hold of a branch and swung himself onto the ground as Gabriel swiftly stepped out of the way. He had no intentions of having his pants get mud splashed on them now that his brother dropped on the ground. Absently brushing away a couple of leaves that had somehow gotten stuck on Jared’s back, Gabriel headed back towards the fence to return to the track. The brothers climbed the fence with equal ease – all the Graas siblings were in excellent shape – and then sauntered down the pathway together. Jared fished out his harmonica to carry on playing his tune and Gabriel was rather content to just walk and let his mind wander. Jared evidently wasn’t in the mood to talk so Gabriel wasn’t planning on making him. Besides he was certain enough in himself and of himself to not mind silence and lack of conversation. He was comfortable anyway. Or rather he made the situation comfortable to himself.

They were in no specific hurry so it took them a good half an hour to get in sight of the Hogwarts castle and even then they didn’t head directly into the school. “What is it with people perching on trees today?” Gabriel questioned as he reached out his hands to Layla. The girl gave a small smile, before lacing her fingers with Gabriels and using his hands as leverage allowed Gabriel to help her pounce back on the ground. The young girl giggled as she gazed at Gabriel and taking the hint, Gabriel took a couple of steps back, did two swift runway turns and then bowed to her, making sure to fluff the black cloth-mane around his neck and trailing down his shoulders. The shirt he was wearing was tight – even though it had two slashes on the back from where Gabriel’s signature wings had extended out from - and had black strings surrounding the collar and trailing down his back much like a lion’s mane. The front was decorated with silver corset-like wire that made it resemble an ancient’s warrior’s breastplate. The pants followed the theme with small silver plates fused into the fabric and the boots had long sharp pointers at the front that could probably do quite some harm were someone hit with them. “Had a dawn photoshoot today. Mixing old and new together and all that. The shoot was in old ruins with heaps of modern muggle-technology. And old name trying to get back into the business,” he told Layla amiable, before tossing a hand onto her shoulder and wheeling her to walk with them, “Ignore Jared. He’s sulking. And sulking enough to cut class – don’t’ forget that he’s a nerdy Ravenclaw – so we better leave him alone until he’s ready to do his job as the court jester.” Layla threw a dubious glance at Jared and for the younger girl, Jared lowered his harmonica and even quirked up a corner of his mouth in a quaint little half-smile.

“So, have I picked up all the strays out here today or do we need to meet someone else?” Gabriel question Layla, absently unclipping her hair to readjust the clip. Twirling a stand of her hair between his fingers, Gabriel reattached the clip. He had had the stroke of luck to be born physically very attractive. That had led him into the world of fashion and glamour where clothes and style and make-up and hair-does could make or break a model. Having entered the world very early, it had all came to Gabriel very easily. His taste was good and he knew how to always get the results he wanted. The clip looked better now, he decided absently. “Look,” Layla diverted his attention and Gabriel absently glanced over to where she was pointing. Some girl seemed to be doing aerobics. Or attempting to, Gabriel mentally corrected, absently observing how the girl ended flat on her back. Layla glanced questioningly up at him and Gabriel smiled lightly: “Lead the way, girlie. Let’s go watch her for a little while then.” He himself didn’t particularly care. He appreciated balance and skill and the effort it took – he himself had to balance on some rather precarious angles and places during some shoots – but he wasn’t entirely impressed either way. But he wouldn’t mind fulfilling Layla’s evident wish to see more, especially as the girl rarely asked for anything. So the three approached the girl and with Jared stepping to the other side of Layla wordlessly watched the girl practice.

[Rister Graas S6]

Rister was pouting. It was a full-fledged pout too with his lower lip stuck out and his lip corners turned downwards. Lita wouldn’t be fazed by that, but Rister was a popular guy. But his pout had an effect on a number of other girls who – presuming Lita had caused Rister to pout – were glaring daggers at her and making doe-eyes and soft cooes towards Rister. That, however, annoyed Lita, making her glare at Rister, which just urged Rister to carry on pouting so it was a rather closer circle. But Rister hadn’t really wanted to come to History of Magic, so Lita could handle the glares in retribution for now. Though Meredith Garwin – now that he owed her a wizarding debt of sort, Rister didn’t feel entirely comfortable calling her Merry anymore, especially as she seemed to be avoiding her rather purposefully – was oddly enough glaring at him. Rister turned his head slightly to catch Lita’s eyes and then titled his head slightly towards Garwin before arching his eye-brows in a sincerely puzzled question. Lita glanced over and a sharp burst of laughter escaped her, before she swallowed it quickly, merely smirking widely at Rister. He blinked in response, allowing his bewilderment show on his face for so brief a moment that only Lita would have time to notice and identify it, before schooling his face back into the pout. Lita obviously wasn’t going to be explaining anything right now.

But he didn’t want to be here. Allowing his rather artificial pout disappear, Rister pursued his lips and pondered for a moment. History of Magic and the alchemy revelations that leaked out into the muggle world. Wait, wasn’t one of his old ancestors also connected with it? Lita threw him a suspicious glance, as Rister suddenly reached over to snatch her book and tossed it open. Finding the right pages was easy and Rister skimmed the pages quickly, his fingertips trailing down the pages. He wasn’t reading, just skimming the pages for names. The first two pages had nothing but on the fourth page detailing the event, there was a list of Ministry officials who had been connected to it. A quick glance on the list did show a family-name that was rather closely tied to the Graas family tree, thanks to the fact that the veelas occasionally married some Graas’. Not that Rister minded that fact. It just meant that the family-tree generally looked rather good. Made family reunions a bit more bearable. But this he could already work on. “Professor Binns,” Rister called out loudly, snapping the book close and raising his hand at the same time. The ghostly professor droned on as always, but Rister wasn’t that easily hindered. Putting two fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly and sharply, holding the note until the professor came to a stuttering stop in an attempt to refocus himself as he gazed blankly at Rister. “Thank you for the attention, professor,” Rister stated politely, ignoring the couple of snorts of laughter that went around the class, “1634 incident in Italy. Mareley Veczno was a relative I believe, but didn’t she fall victim to a muggle burglar and die before she even got to the muggle had some of the documents in his possession she was sent to seduce and sleep with before stealing the documents back?” Binns blinked at him: “Well, Mareley Veczno was sent to retrieve the documents, but seducing and…” “Veczno line is notorious for having lot of veelas in it, though the line is starting to die out and the remains have mostly been integrated into the Graas’ tree. Do you know the details of her death?” Rister carried on with a light snort.

Noticing from the corner of his eye that Lita opened her mouth to say – or most likely hiss – something, Rister raised a finger at her in a wordless request to wait. Binns seemed somewhat shaken under Rister’s attentive gaze and questions. “The family tree and the history datings will surely…” “My family-tree is far too extensive to bring copies of it with me to school. Could you check your datings?” Rister requested with his most charming smile and watched with satisfaction how Binns floated backwards through the blackboard. Shoving his chair back, Rister grabbed Lita’s wrist and pulled her to her feet after him: “Come on.” “Rister, we are not leaving the class!” she argued but Rister didn’t really pay attention as he dragged her after himself, “Was Veczo really even killed?” “Veczno. And no idea. I just know that pretty much every Veczno is a relative. Binns won’t even remember I asked anything by the time he gets back. Brian, take care of Lita’s bag, would you?” Rister countered and after Rister’s dorm-mate had assured that he would, Rister simply hooked an arm around Lita’s hips, lifting her off the floor and carrying her out of the door, “Now hush or we actually will get caught.” The door closed between them and taking hold of Lita’s hand again after depositing her back on the floor, Rister pulled her to run after her as the raced through the empty hallways.

They burst out of the castle soon enough, Lita’s laughter ringing loudly, even though Rister was sure he would be berated over dragging her out of class. But, just sometimes, she needed someone to remind her to take breaks and she had been overworked lately anyway. And the race down the empty hallways with their footsteps echoing back from the walls had been exhilarating. “Look, Gabriel and Jared are at the lake. Accuse them for being slackers rather than me. Or is it my bad example that’s ruining them?” Rister teased Lita, even as he fell into step next to her with practiced ease as they both unanimously turned towards Rister’s brothers. “Ouch,” Rister grunted absently as the girl between them and his brothers and Layla fell onto her back. Lita hurried forward to ask if she was alright, whereas Rister sauntered lazily behind. If the girl wanted to try some trick, she would have considered the possibility of falling. And even so it would take a lot more than some flips to impress Rister, even though the girl hadn’t shouted out in pain. “What? I’m not a full-trained medic you know, nor do I pamper everyone unlike what you seem to think,” Rister huffed irritable as Lita asked him to check the girl, even though he did know rather a lot about healing spells and potions and he had never passed a wounded animal or a bird. Even so he glanced at the girl while sauntering past her to reach his brothers: “She doesn’t seem to be bleeding anyway. Hei Layla, why are you keeping those two ruffians company rather than me?” he questioned, with a glance at Jared – who was glaring at the entire world – and Gabriel.

[Layla Ellison]

Skipping class probably wasn’t smart. No one would bother to make up an excuse for her so Professor Hawthorne wouldn’t be pleased. If Ashlyn heard about it then she would be absolutely annoyed, likely pinning the blame on Damon’s brothers since even Layla knew that the Graas boys weren’t really bothered about not attending a class if they didn’t want to go. It was ridiculous, because Layla wasn’t so weak-minded as to mimic people just because she could but Ashlyn still wasn’t used to being part of a family so she needed someone to be annoyed with. The Gryffindor hid it well, most of the time, but Layla was perceptive, especially now that she rarely communicated verbally, and she had spent a lot of time with her cousin. She didn’t need to be a seer to guess at Damon’s and Ashlyn’s future though Layla wasn’t exactly quite sure how they were going to end up there. She wasn’t the only one who saw it; at least, she didn’t think she was. Dismal, fingers itching for the smooth feel of the piano keys, Layla leaned her head against the rough bark of the tree trunk and sighed. She liked Hogwarts, she really did, but there were times when she would much rather just be at home. She wanted her own bedroom, with the crystal nightlight Ashlyn had given her, and the knowledge that her cousin would be calling for her at any minute because it was time for another music lesson. Hogwarts was nice, but people didn’t understand why she wouldn’t talk to them and they didn’t like the feeling of being ignored.

Her sharp eyes caught sight of Jared and Gabriel approaching and, silently, Layla tilted her head to the side as she watched them walk closer. Gabriel’s question earned a silently curious gaze as Layla used his support to jump to the ground then hugged him shyly, glancing up at him unsurely to see if it was okay. He was dressed rather oddly – though it did suit him, but Layla wasn’t sure she had ever seen Gabriel dressed in anything that didn’t enhance his looks – and she giggled appreciatively when Gabriel obligingly showed off for her. Jared didn’t look very happy, Layla noticed as Gabriel steered her over to him so that they could walk together. “I’m a Ravenclaw and I’m cutting class,” Layla pointed out with a smile before frowning uncertainly. “But don’t tell Ashlyn. She’ll be mad at me.” Layla threw a dismayed glance at Jared, unhappy to see him looking so discontented and hear him playing such a mournful tune. Ashlyn had played a similar tune after receiving a letter that she had asked Layla not to mention again, and Layla herself had awkwardly tapped out a similar rhythm on the piano when she had first started to learn and the feeling of being abandoned and alone had been most prominent. It wasn’t a song of happiness and it made her want to cry but Layla knew what it felt like to not want to talk but to have other people thinking that they knew what was best for you so she wordlessly lowered her gaze to the ground and listened to Jared play.

Layla watched intently, eyes wide with awe as the older girl flipped and twisted fluidly. Even when she fell, limbs twisted in a way that looked so very painful, the girl just rose back to her feet, checked that she wasn’t bleeding heavily and then started all over again. After watching her collapse on the ground a few times, Layla tugged at Gabriel’s arm anxiously. “Is she alright?” Layla questioned quietly once he glanced down at her, blue eyes dark with concern as the brunette girl absently wiped away a trickle of blood from her cheek. But the girl still continued so Layla glanced away and grinned enthusiastically at the sight of Rister and Lita, blinking in surprise when she looked back to see the girl on her back with no apparent intention of getting back to her feet. Lita was immediately kneeling by the girl, acting more like a prefect than someone who had been denied the prefect’s badge because, as Lita had explained one night in the Ravenclaw common room, ‘Rister was a bad influence and persuaded people to cut class even when it was a bad idea’. Shrugging – because, really, the girl had absolutely nothing to do with her and Lita was already taking care of anything that needed to be done – Layla pounced at Rister, hugging him tightly and burying her face in his chest for a moment. “They found me,” she informed him quietly before eyeing Rister warily, “but don’t mention it to Ashlyn because she won’t be happy. I’m supposed to be in DADA. And Jared’s not happy so I thought that some entertainment might cheer him up but I don’t think he was very impressed, which I don’t really understand because she was very good.”