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“Starts with an I…ends, an A in the middle, with an E… Six letters.” Jack pointed to the crossword with the tip of his pencil. I__A_E. “Colds that last a long time…” he said again, pondering it more seriously this time. “I considered icicle…but it doesn’t fit with fourteen across…Aparecium doesn’t start with a C…” For a moment he considered everything else he could think of that was cold. “Blimey, no wonder I wasn’t in Ravenclaw.” The puzzled expression on his face melted into one of amusement. “Don’t think I would’ve ever have a good nights sleep in my dorm if I was.” 

Eli was very much a visual person, hearing the letters out loud did little to help him as he took a deep breath, trying to think of what it could be.  “I don’t know...” he finally managed.  “I’m shit at riddles.”  Eli usually had a problem with self-deprecation.  He hated himself more than most people in the world hated him, only he couldn’t see it that way.

“Sorry.”

“Well Eli…” Jack quirked an eyebrow and looked the youngster up and down. After a moment of pretending to make a bold decision, he began to dig around in his bag for the morning issue of the Prophet. “You look clever enough. How good at the Fiendishly Difficult Crossword?” He pulled out the crumpled section of paper and held it up. “I’m stuck on fifteen down…” He look back at the crossword with distain. “Colds that last a long time…7 letters…Go.”

Eli could feel the older man eyeing him, almost eyeing him up to get a hold on what kind of person he was.  It made Eli feel that much more awkward around the attractive man.

“Um...”  Eli was never good at riddles.  He failed on several occasions to get into his common room because he simply could not solve the riddle that the raven gave him.  It was embarrassing and led to quite a lot of bullying in his younger years.   “Do you have any... letters to help?”

“Sorry how rude of me. Jack Smudgley.” Though he was an active reporter for the Prophet, he was not surprised a youngster like Elias didn’t know who he was. So, he sat up properly to give him an actual greeting. “But please,” he chuckled and held out a hand to shake Elias’. “Mister is my father. Jack’ll do.”

Eli  shook his hand.  “Just Eli is fine too,” he replied with a half smile.  He immediately wished that he could have the confidence of the man in front of him.  Would he ever have that level of confidence?  Probably not.  He simply didn’t have it in him.  “My real first name is actually Terrence, but... I go by Eli.  Elias is my middle name.”

“No need to apologize,” he shrugged and waved his hand. “I can be protective of my work too.” To ensure no one could read or take his notes, however, Jack had charmed the books they were kept in. Secured with an anti-theft charm and a modified Caterwauling Charm. Anyone who opened a journal of his would get an earful of high-pitch screaming. “So Mister Boot,” Jack made himself comfortable on a nearby bench and put his feet up. He was genuinely curious about the younger man after skimming his work. “Tell me about yourself. Aspiring writer or just a passionate nerd?”

Eli exhaled slowly, thankful that the other was willing to look past his somewhat rude response and accept his apology.  He was so protective over his work and kept most of it under lock and key and with a decoder spell necessary.  His current workings, however, he didn’t have a chance to do it.

“Aspiring writer, Mister...” he replied slowly, not quite sure of his name.  He knew him by face, but not well.

Jack snuck a peek at the first page and noted the dragon sketch. “It’s a dragon?” He tilted his head to assess the drawing from a different angle. “Perhaps best to stick to the writing then…” Closing it after a moment, he passed the book to Elias. “No hard feelings there Mister Boot,” he said with a friendly smile. “Just wanted to be sure. Can’t have that falling into the wrong hands now can we?”

Eli shrugged.  “It’s supposed to be a dragon,” he mused.  “I’m a writer, not an artist.”  He knew it wasn’t good, but he had writers block one night and needed to try and free himself from it.  

As the book was passed over to him, he took it and immediately pushed it back into his bag, making sure it was in properly this time.  “You’re right, I... Sorry for snapping.”

“It’s good y’know,” Jack offered the notebook to the young man with a smile. “The writing I mean. Very creative stuff.” But, before the other was able to take it he whipped it back close to his chest and squinted his eyes, a playful arch shaping his brow. “You’re sure it’s yours? What’s on the first page then?”

Eli very nearly had the notebook back when it was ripped away from him yet again.  The young man closed his eyes for a moment and ran a hand through his hair.  “Of course I’m sure it’s mine,” he replied.  “The first page has a sketch of a dragon on it, not a very good one, and my name.  Elias Boot.”

“Sorry yeah,” Jack looked at the small notebook he’d found on the ground and flipped through it curiously. “I uh–found this on the ground. Is it yours?”

Eli’s eyes went a bit wide as the stranger flipped through his notebook.  The last time he remembered that happening, his fellow student proceeded to incinerate his hard work.

“It is,” he replied slowly, treading carefully.  The older man looked familiar, but Eli couldn’t place from where.  “Could I... please have it back?”

Why did Hogwarts have to suck so much?  Well, maybe it wasn’t Hogwarts.  Perhaps it was simply his age and the fact that he didn’t “fit in” that made it feel like it sucked.  

Potions was by far the worst class.  It wasn’t that he hated it, it was that it made him feel inept and stupid.  He couldn’t grasp the concepts and despite help from both Slughorn and other students, he simply couldn’t do it.  This made him the butt of jokes and made the bullying that much worse.

What kind of Ravenclaw didn’t excel at his classes?  What kind of Prefect couldn’t master something as simple as Potions?!  After getting another barely passing grade, he made his way slowly out of the Potions classroom.

“Good.”

Em adjusts her jacket and steps back at the thought of her “making a name” of anything at all. “I suppose, yeah. Holyhead Harpies let me in, so something went right.” She smiles. “Yeah, and I suppose it helps that I’d been training for absolute ages.”

“What kind of work are you into now?”

Eli shifted his weight a bit.  “You’re a damn good Quidditch player,” he mused quietly.  “I mean, from what I understood of Quidditch, you were one of the best.”

Zoe sensed some distress in him, it was an instinct she had and was developing more as time went on teaching. She sat on the bench next to him, with a bright reassuring smile. Her mind was running through all the scenarios and things to say as she watched him wring his hands.  Zoe tilted her head and slid a strand of hair behind her ear. “How has graduation been treating you?”, her voice was smooth and quite. She tried to dial back her bubbly personality to create a welcoming and open environment.

Eli shrugged quietly, still looking down at his hands.  He was afraid to look over at her.  This was a bad idea.  This was a horrible and terrible idea.  “Okay, I guess.  Can’t really... find a job that I’m good at.”  Eli wasn’t the greatest at school, but he was very far from the worst.  If only he applied himself, maybe he could have done great things.

“You know, the usual.”

He bit down on his lip, still unable to look at her.

“Oh. Yes. You’re…” Em was forgetting his name, but it was on the tip of her tongue. “The Boot kid. Sorry. Eli? Eli Boot?”

She shakes her head. “Hello. How are you these days?”

She proved his point.  He was truly forgettable in the grand scheme of things.  Maybe once he got published and got his name out there, things would be different, but for now, he was still invisible Eli Boot.

“Pretty good, thanks.  Hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself.”

“My bad.”

Emmeline stands with a book of art she’d been interested in trying to spot at the National Gallery during her off-time, of which she had little, but was hell-bent on bringing her teammate to at some point. She had to learn enough about art to be interesting.

“Oh, sorry, I honestly wasn’t even looking in front of me.” She eyes the poor boy she ran into, who looks honestly worse for wear.

“You alright there?”

Eli nodded, glancing over at her.  “It happens to me all the time,” he replied with an awkward little chuckle.  He paused for a moment, taking in her face before the recognition dawned on him.  “Emmeline,” he replied quietly.  He remembered her from Hogwarts.  After all, it wasn’t all that long ago that he graduated.  

She probably didn’t even remember him, the loner with his head in the clouds.  They had been in the same house, but Eli was convinced that he was that forgettable in school. 

“It’s uh- nice to see you again.”

Unfortunately, the store was closed until noon, and Eli found himself with a bit of time to waste.  He meandered about, lost in his own mind.  He just barely missed running into someone.  “Crap, sorry,” he apologized quickly.