Who: Gabe and Spencer When: Backdated like fucking crazy to shortly after this owl landed Where: The greenhouses What: "So, Slytherin, huh? What does that shit really mean?"
Hola Abuela, look at me now, Gabe was thinking, leaping down the front stairs of the castle two at a time. Of course, he wasn't actually sure that his maternal grandma would believe any more than he did that he had been made head of a house he barely understood at a school he hadn't attended in a country to whom he owed no allegiance, but had fought for regardless.
Gabe didn't actually live his life to fuck with his grandmother's head, but it was a nice perk.
It was a lovely evening, and despite the fact that he whined from October right through to April every year he'd been in this benighted country so far, Gabe would readily admit that one of the good points of being this far north was how long the sunlight lasted in summer. It was rich and golden, pouring over him like honey as he strode down the lawn towards the still battered-looking greenhouses, wherein he really hoped he was going to find Spencer Smith. Because if he was going to be head of Slytherin, and the owl from Schechter suggested he was -- and oh look, he was still holding that, better shove it in a pocket or something. Where was he? Right. Being head of Slytherin. Maybe knowing a bit more about the house than Pete's drunken prejudices and the layout of their dorms might be a good idea.
"Anyone alive in there?" he called out, as he came up towards the entrance to the main greenhouse.