Post by Chase on Jan 14, 2006 15:34:51 GMT
It was dark, and it was pouring with rain. Well, not strictly pouring. When you live in certain areas of England, 'pouring' is strictly reserved for those days when the rain hits you so hard you may as well be pounded into the ground with a very large cartoon mallet. This day was more the kind of rain that just seems to go on forever, the kind of incessant drizzle that drains your spirit if you stare at it too long.
In the midst of this miserable weather there suddenly appeared, as if by magic, a violently purple triple-decker bus, off of which stepped a boy lugging an empty cat-carrier and a large brown-leather suitcase. He was about fourteen, tall for his age, with a mop of curly jet-black hair that hung mostly in his startlingly bright sapphire blue eyes. He looked up briefly at the overcast sky, before reaching for his yellow and black striped umbrella. Once it was up, he began to plod up to the great doors of the Entrance Hall. The castle loomed menacing above him in the gloaming light, but he cast his eyes town and trudged on.
Stepping inside, Chase took the time to look about him. The Hall itself was quite impressive, as was the school itself, well, those part which had been able to glimpse at through the rain. It was all oak panelling and echoing stone walls - he could see now why his sister had liked it so. Moving portraits adorned the walls, some of the subjects peering down at him with smiling faces: they could obviously tell he was new, well, that or they found the look of a drowned rat amusing, for despite the umbrella he was soaked through.
Chase gave a shiver. His hair was clinging limply to his pale cheeks, and his feet were wet, but he was smiling. The place was huge, and he was looking forward to exploring it. For now, however, seeing as how he didn't know where he should be going, Chase decided to simply sit and wait for someone. He took out his wand - 15 inches, elm and phoenix feather - and conjured up a small portable fire, it's flames all green and blue. Carefully he scooped it up inside his umbrella, which, by lucky hap, had already been charmed by his mother so it couldn't catch fire or be struck by lightning (it had been designed for his muggle father, who tended to spend a lot of time on the golf course). He sat on the stairway and, warming his freezing hands and drying his trouser bottoms on the dancing flames, waited for someone to come along.
In the midst of this miserable weather there suddenly appeared, as if by magic, a violently purple triple-decker bus, off of which stepped a boy lugging an empty cat-carrier and a large brown-leather suitcase. He was about fourteen, tall for his age, with a mop of curly jet-black hair that hung mostly in his startlingly bright sapphire blue eyes. He looked up briefly at the overcast sky, before reaching for his yellow and black striped umbrella. Once it was up, he began to plod up to the great doors of the Entrance Hall. The castle loomed menacing above him in the gloaming light, but he cast his eyes town and trudged on.
Stepping inside, Chase took the time to look about him. The Hall itself was quite impressive, as was the school itself, well, those part which had been able to glimpse at through the rain. It was all oak panelling and echoing stone walls - he could see now why his sister had liked it so. Moving portraits adorned the walls, some of the subjects peering down at him with smiling faces: they could obviously tell he was new, well, that or they found the look of a drowned rat amusing, for despite the umbrella he was soaked through.
Chase gave a shiver. His hair was clinging limply to his pale cheeks, and his feet were wet, but he was smiling. The place was huge, and he was looking forward to exploring it. For now, however, seeing as how he didn't know where he should be going, Chase decided to simply sit and wait for someone. He took out his wand - 15 inches, elm and phoenix feather - and conjured up a small portable fire, it's flames all green and blue. Carefully he scooped it up inside his umbrella, which, by lucky hap, had already been charmed by his mother so it couldn't catch fire or be struck by lightning (it had been designed for his muggle father, who tended to spend a lot of time on the golf course). He sat on the stairway and, warming his freezing hands and drying his trouser bottoms on the dancing flames, waited for someone to come along.
There must be some way out of here, said the joker to the thief...
))
I've been here before: (think purple hair)