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Knocking on Half a Door; [OPEN]
Topic Started: Jan 11 2010, 02:02 PM (364 Views)
Nathan Baker
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Nathan kicked his legs up onto his deask. In reality, it was a teacher's desk, but he had claimed it for himself for now. He needed some place to work out strategy and speak to the others in private. He had no idea if any of the others had claimed places yet, but it was the first thing he did upon arrival to the school.

Nathan tilted his head back and closed his eyes. They couldn't stay here forever. There were no supplies other than the Grounds, and even then they were unsure what exactly was there, and it was far too dangerous to venture into the Forest, not in these times.

Nathan was stirred from his thoughts by a sharp knock on his 'door'. In reality, half the door had rotted away, leaving it more like a stable half-door than anything else. That way, Nathan could see what was coming.

Not today though. Without bothering to open his eyes, Nathan muttered,

"Come in," knowing they could hear him.
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Harry Potter
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Quidditch captain & Seeker

Harry entered the room, and saw Nathan with his feet on a desk. He vaguely thought it might be Flitwick’s, but he wasn’t sure. He himself had claimed the office in classroom eleven. But he didn’t spend much time there. Only his trunk and what things he could salvage were there. He had, of course, decorated it in Gryffindor colors, and put the few photos he had on the walls to make it more homey-like.

With a “hey” to Nathan, he pulled up a chair. Dragging another one nearby him, he sat down in the first chair and put his feet up on the other. Nathan looked so deep in thought, he didn’t particularly want to disturb him. So he closed his eyes and let his thoughts swirl around in his head. Even though he didn’t want to be a leader, it came natural to him. And perhaps between the two of them, they could devise a plan. The other boy was, after all, a 7th year, and therefore maybe knew something Harry didn’t. It was only natural he would know spells and things that the 6th years hadn’t learned yet. Speaking of 6th years, he wondered where Ron was, and if Hermione was okay.

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Nathan Baker
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Nathan opened an eye lazily to spot Harry sitting on the chair across from him. "Pull up a chair, then," he muttered sarcastically. A lack of manners was a great annoyance to him. The boy had no excuse: oh, yes, the Purebloods might say he had a Muggle upbringing, but so did Nathan. Muggles do actually have manners, surprisingly enough. Manners enough not to just sit down like that, anyway.

Nathan sighed. He really was trying very hard not to stir up conflict, but he didn't really gel at all with any of the students. He knew none of them well, though in capacity of Head Boy, he knew their names and the basics. Other than that, though, he knew nothing about them, and it was likely he was going to see the worst side of them over the time they were here. As far as he could see, there was only one thing to do: stay alive, and wait for something to happen. They weren't the only ones here, that was for sure, and all they could do was wait for the natives to discover that.

"Hello Harry. Did you need something?"

Nathan glanced at the chair with the Gryffindor's feet resting on it. Bad manners, good furniture.

"Feet down," he added as an afterthought.
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Harry Potter
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Harry ignored the sarcastic barb. After the episode in the Hospital Wing, Harry wasn't sure if he liked the Head Boy or not. But as Gryffindors, they did need to stick together. And he respected his elders--being brought up by the Dursleys would teach a person that. Although he though Nathan had nerve telling him to put his feet down when the older boy's feet still remained on the desk.

Harry sighed. "Look--Nathan--I know I agreed to work with Malfoy, but that doesn't mean I approve of his little 'pure-bloods first and everybody else second' plan. I'm just trying to keep the peace. I've been going over the situation in my head, and I have to say, I'm stumped. What I wanted to know was if you had any idea what to do, seeing as how you've been awake the longest."

It didn't escape the raven-haired teen's notice that the Head Boy wasn't exactly--personable. He didn't seem to mix well with the students at all. At least the Head Girl, Shadowrider, mixed well with the members of her House. Wasn't that supposed to be some sort of requirement to be a Head? That you had to mesh well? Apparently---not.
Edited by Harry Potter, Jan 16 2010, 04:11 PM.
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Nathan Baker
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Nathan was perfectly aware that people thought he was unsuitable for his position. And he may not be the most approachable person, but he was a damn sight better than Shadowrider, at least for anyone outside of Slytherin. If people came to him, he would help them. If they were too nervous of him, but he heard a rumour, he would seek them out. He took his duties seriously, especially for the Muggleborn students, like Harry's friend Hermione. The two were close-ish.

Nathan gave a pointed look at Harry's feet, which were still on his chair. "Feet," he said a little more forcefully. His feet were allowed to rest on the furniture because it was his goddamn office. He didn't mind his own bootmarks on the desk, but somebody else's was just unacceptable.

"Harry, I'm not pissed at you because you 'sided' with Malfoy. I'm pissed at your because your feet are on my chair." His expression softened. He knew Harry had issues with the pureblood mentality. "Listen to me, Harry. There aren't any sides here anymore. Get used to that."
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Harry Potter
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Harry looked down. He thought he had put them down. Immediately, he dropped them to the ground, and gave Nathan a sheepish look. “Whoops. Sorry.” Growing up the way he did, he wasn’t one to ask for help, as a rule. Usually, he preferred to work his problems out on his own. But this situation, this curse—it was more than even ‘the Chosen One’ could handle.

He didn’t like Shadowrider at all, not one tiny bit. But the Head Girl seemed to do right, at least by the Slytherins, and surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs. That in itself was weird—normally Slytherins hated all the other Houses on sight, on principle. Harry did know, however, that while Nathan was a cranky sort, he did go out of his way to help others, even the first years who were terrified of him, the way they were of Professor Snape.

Speaking of Snape, Harry hadn’t seen any of the professors around. Nor the ghosts. He pointed these facts out to the Head Boy, and ran a hand through his already-messy hair. Green eyes focused on Nathan, and he spoke. “I understand that. But while I can cook, have you noticed that—that our magic seems to be faulty sometimes?” He sighed. “I miss Hermione.”
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Nathan Baker
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Nathan smiled, not approvingly, he wasn't a patronising person. It was more a 'thanks, I appreciate that,' smile. He wasn't completely obsessive about the cleanliness of his furniture, he'd just been brought up with good manners in all situations. "Don't worry about it, mate," he said, nodding as he accepted Harry's apology.

Nathan became serious at the mention of faulty magic. He'd noticed it too. Sometimes, you could barely cast Alohamora, and other times it felt like you could do anything. It was like this place, this world, this wherever-they-were had its own rules.

"Well, the ghosts, presumably, couldn't get sick. And we don't know about the paramenters of this curse..." Nathan mused, muggle wartime thinking coming back to him. His eldest brother, a muggle, was keen on strategy, tactics and war. He'd taught Nathan bits and pieces of muggle history if he asked, and Nathan was curious about that sort of thing. He felt a stab of loss at the realisation he couldn't go ask Charlie about anything ever again, not if he didn't somehow get back.

"Well, until we do see a teacher, we'll have to assume the curse doesn't affect them. If I was casting it, and wanted to damage Hogwarts' reputation, that's what I would do. It would look like the professors are protecting themselves before they protect us. Very damaging."

At Harry's mention of Hermione, Nathan's face twisted into a sad, sympathetic smile. He knew Hermione well, knew she'd be having a heart attack over the lack of books, trying to work things out and scolding the boys for fighting when they should all be working together. Maya would be doing the same, picking Malfoy and Weasley up by their collars and depositing them in opposite corners until they could learn to get along. She'd done it with a pair of 'her' first years before. Nathan gave a bitter laugh at the thought and reached over his desk to ruffle Harry's hair. "Ah, Harry, we all miss people," he said softly.
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Harry Potter
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Harry’s grin stayed in place as Nathan smiled. It didn’t look like an approving smile, but he looked somewhat grateful. That was fine by him. If Harry could make at least two people smile a day, he felt satisfied. He nodded as well. “Thanks, mate.” He knew if someone had come into his office and put their feet on his furniture, well—it would have been a bad situation. Plus, Aunt Petunia had raised him better than that.

So why had he done it? He honestly didn’t know. But the situation was over and done with. Time to move on to more serious topics. As the Head Boy spoke, Harry felt a stab of pain in his head. He tried to nonchalantly put his hand on his head, acting as if he was just going to run a hand through his hair. Although he was sure Nathan didn’t buy it for one minute—you didn’t get to be a Head by being stupid.

“I agree. That would be extremely damaging to Hogwarts’ reputation. But I have to assume that the professors either had a stronger potion available to them, or they knew magic we don’t and could protect themselves, but not us. Do you know how much magic one would have to expend to protect the whole castle? Only Dumbledore could even hope of doing that,” Harry said.

Harry smiled weakly as Nathan ruffled his hair, but paled at the thought of his other best friend. “Oh dear Merlin—I know she probably meant to take her potion, but what if she forgot one day? I mean, I barely remember, and she’s twice as busy as I am. Oh dear, oh dear!” He looked like he was going to go into hysterics. “Nathan, what happens if you forget to take your potion?” In that moment, he looked and felt eleven years old again. He wanted so badly to be told everything was going to be okay, but feared for the worst.

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