WHO: Sturgis Podmore & Caroline Dufort WHAT: Lovebird origin story. WHEN: Fall 1988. WHERE: Hogwarts hallway. WARNINGS: Very mild swears and tragic young Sturgis.
PURIST TWATS!
With his wand still raised, Sturgis Podmore took a few steps back into the middle of the hallway to admire his handiwork. The charm he had used most definitely hid the fact it was his handwriting and with the added layer of charmed protection (one he taught himself, which was most definitely an extra source of pride), the eloquent words written above the Slytherin Quidditch team picture would at least last for the next twenty-four hours. That was definitely more than enough time for the entire school to see and hopefully ruffle a few feathers in the process. The very thought of that made him extra pleased, which was probably why he failed to her the footsteps behind him until it was too late to make a daring escape.
“This wasn’t -- “ Sturgis stopped his sentence mid thought once he saw who had come upon him. “Why hello there, Caroline. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Sturgis Podmore. My, how awkward this is. For you.” She flashed her teeth briefly, then pulled a notebook out of her pocket as she considered the sign. “And here I thought that Ravenclaws prided themselves on accuracy? She-” a flick of her pencil towards a girl in the picture “-is not a purist twat, while this one may indeed be a twat, but not a purist one. A “Poor” or perhaps even a “Dreadful,” if I were grading it.”
Flashing Caroline a smile, he looked back at the words and studied them a moment before shaking his head. “Oh, no. I know the entire team aren’t purist twats or anything of the sort,” Sturgis started to explain as he once again looked at the Slytherin prefect. “But I was working under time constraints, so I couldn’t exactly make individualized statements for every person in the picture. So I thought one big banner statement could let people pick and choose the person, or persons, in which they attribute the words. It’s a bit of a modern art think piece installation, really.”
“You ought to have thought less about your statement,” Caroline advised, folding her arms beneath her chest, “and more about properly configuring your time restraints. Can you undo it?” A slight smile was threatening to break out, however. It really was a ridiculous excuse.
“Time is an illusion, Caroline,” he answered with a small shake of his head. In reality, he knew she was correct, but there really wasn’t anything that could be done about that now. “And I’m not... sure? You see, I read about this specialized sticking charm in the library the other day and I thought, oh! This would be the perfect chance to learn this and use it in a practical application, so I’m almost certain that isn’t going anywhere for at least a day.”
“Well, how fortunate that your Head of House is also our Charms professor, and that I’m required to report you to him anyway. I have to acknowledge your consideration in that manner, at least.” Caroline flipped open her notebook. “So that will be ten points from Ravenclaw, and whatever else Professor Flitwick sees fit.”
Sturgis sighed as he nodded. “I suppose this serves as a lesson to be more stealthy as far as my vigilantism, which I will keep in mind for the future.” Or at the very least, set up a few charms to alert him to the presence of someone near the scene of the crime. He made a mental note to look into that at a later time and date. “Though before you send me off to face Flitwick, can I ask you a question?”
Caroline looked up from her notes, tilting her head to one side. “You mean, other than the one you just did?”
“Of course,” Sturgis said as his own head tilted to the side. Caroline nodded her head; you may.
At her little indication, the young man smiled. “Well! I was wondering if perhaps next time we have a Hogsmeade weekend, if you would like to accompany me?” When she didn’t laugh, Sturgis took it as an indication to continue with his request. “I thought perhaps to the Three Broomsticks and then a trip over to Tomes and Scrolls? Unless you would rather go to Madam Puddifoot’s? I did make the assumption that her establishment wasn’t quite your scene and all.”
“It’s not.” But Caroline, for once in her life, looked as though she didn’t have a pithy rejoinder handy. “I just took points from your house and said I would report you, and you’re asking me out? On a date?”
“Well, yes,” Sturgis answered with a smile. “Though it doesn’t have to be quite a date. It would just be two non-purist non-twats having non-purist non-twatty fun together. With some butterbeer. That I could possibly pay for if that is all right with you.”
“Ah, oui? I mean yes, of course.” For the sake of having something to do with her hands, she tucked the notebook and pencil back inside her school blazer. “Don’t forget about curfew too,” she cautioned as a farewell, and then vanished behind a corner.
Letting out a sigh of contentment, he stuck his hands in his pocket and stared up at his handwork while he rocked back on his heels for a moment. “Oh. I should probably leave the scene of my crime,” Sturgis suddenly realized after a moment. With one last look of longing at his graffiti, he scampered off in the opposite direction of the Slytherin prefect.