had a fear of being typical

“the plants from this book don’t interest me all that much,” edgar shook his head, fidgeting in his seat as soon as caradoc sat across the table. he absentmindedly rubbed his hand across his face, his eyes rolling in their sockets and a quiet groan escaping him before he leaned forward and gave caradoc his full attention. “but there’s this muggle drug, well, more of an herb really. you probably know about it, you’re muggleborn, after all..”

he fidgeted again, not entirely sure where he was going with the conversation. he really just felt the need to keep speaking when spoken to. “i’m just joking, of course. herbology must be important if they’re forcing us all to learn about it.”

Caradoc couldn’t disagree with him. Herbology wasn’t going to get him where he wanted in life but supposed he should have some knowledge of it. They were in a magical world after all and you never knew when it would come in handy. “You make a good point there. Herbs are —“ Caradoc paused.

Drug. Herb.

He pondered the question before it hit him. He put his head down and laughed. “Half-blood but still enough to know all there is to know about the muggle world.” Caradoc took pause. “You mean wizards don’t know about, well, you know. Things that can either make the world slow down or make you laugh your pants off? Oh, and the munchies. Good thing I’m a Hufflepuff next to the kitchens.”

            she  could  never  imagine  anyone  wanting  to  hear  her  sing ,  it’s  not  that  she  couldn’t  —  henri  and  desdemona  had  made  sure  each  of  their  too  many  daughters  had  been  taught  how  to  be  perfect  ladies ,  no  matter  how  well  the  lessons  stayed  with  some  of  them .  it’d  been  something  she’d  enjoyed  to  begin  with  but  after  years  of  being  told  she  was  horrid  it  had  rather  lost  it’s  shine . “  i -  i  can  give  it  another  go  if  you  like ?  it’s   nothing  complicated  just  a  silly  old  nursery  rhyme ,  ”

He smiled reassuringly. She was nervous but didn’t have any reason to be. Not with Caradoc. He was the least intimidating person he knew.

He reached out and touched her arm, “You seem embarrassed but you don’t have to be. Promise. Singing is a beautiful thing and no one should be made to feel otherwise, yeah?” Caradoc meant each word.

“Who’s to say what’s complicated? Nursery rhymes are there for a reason. They help soothe us when we’re most vulnerable. It takes just as much courage to sing something ‘not complicated’” he said using air quotes, “as it does to be on stage in front of loads of people.” Caradoc looked in her eyes. He wanted to make her feel a sort of comfort but knew it was hard for some people.

“I’d love for you to give it another go. The first time was great, I can only imagine what it would be like a second time round. I’m not a big singer but maybe you could teach me?”

“Or maybe someone took it by accident, or maybe I left it somewhere else… just because I’m sure of something doesn’t mean it’s reality.” That felt like the logical way of looking at things. If they couldn’t find it easily, there was a strong chance that it wasn’t even there to begin with. “And you’re being more than helpful. You’re helping me not spiral and panic, which is more help than you even know. It’ll turn up eventually, I suppose. There are much worse things to lose than a bag.” Listening to Caradoc talk about his journal, though, Aimee found herself smiling. It was nice to hear the boy talk about something that meant so much to him. And she understood. Some things were too special to leave laying around. Her bag just wasn’t one of them. “That’s… wow. That journal sounds like it means a lot to you. I’m sure it’s filled with plenty of beautiful things. – I don’t know if someone took it. It’s just a possibility. And maybe they took it to try and find me, or to give it to someone who could pass it along. Maybe we could just… do something else? Anything? Things tend to show up when you aren’t really looking for them.”

Listening to Aimee’s words, Caradoc wanted to believe she believed them but he couldn’t be sure. No point in pushing the matter but he hoped she truly felt that it would show up. “You’re absolutely right. It could show up at any point. There are always many things to take into consideration.” He wasn’t placating her, but wanted her to know she wasn’t alone in that thought.

“I’m glad you think I’m helping. It’s the least I can do,” he said shyly. “There’s no reason to spiral, love. Truth is you never know and assuming the worst only makes it worse. But you better stop calling it just a bag!” Caradoc said, pointing his finger at her and flashing a smile. “My journal is very unique. I don’t know that it would ever make sense to anyone else but that’s okay because it’s something special just for me. I think we all need something ours.”

Caradoc looked to the ceiling. “Speaking of something just for ourselves, could I interest you in a bit of painting?”

7 years;; Lindsey Stirling

There is a method to every writer’s madness. There’s a tune that plays when ink hits the page. Perhaps ironically, the song to Caradoc’s journal has no words at all. Music is the writing’s driving force from the soft beats that swell and flow, creating an array of emotions to experience. That is writing to him. The ballad created on the page just is just as beautiful as the instruments that inspire it.

Herp de Derp;; The Gregory Brothers 

Goofy isn’t the word to describe Caradoc. It’s derpy. The kind of gentle, can’t help but make you smile and laugh along with him derpy. This song is a calling to all those who prescribe to this description and begging those who deny this part of themselves to find and embrace it. Without knowing it, his two left feet that walk into walls and trip over nothing are the leaders of anyone willing to join him. As long as they’re ready to laugh while doing so.

When You Say Nothing at All;; The Hound + The Fox

There are many stories that show how confusing love can be. It’s true that Caradoc doesn’t entirely understand his intense emotions but she’s his best friend and can’t imagine loving anyone more than her. It’s the best love he could dream of having. Simply sitting with her, reading her face, knowing what she’s feeling without two words being spoken and just reveling in each other’s company is what true love is for him. Laying down next to her and falling asleep, waking up to their hands touching and a light smile crossing their faces -- that’s the love that will get them through. And it’s when nothing is said at all.

Lost Boy;; Ruth B

Youth and joy are not lost on Caradoc but that doesn’t mean sadness and despair don’t touch his life. He accesses these emotions but does so in a healthy way. He let’s himself feel the bitter pill that is loneliness but then looks outside himself to the world he loves so much. Even with the world in shambles, he sees how he can help and what he can bring to the table, thus bringing his healing internal as well. He sometimes needs a Peter Pan to remind him of the good there is but he also gladly takes the role of Peter Pan to heart for those in need.

Happiness;; William Crighton

Caradoc is always wandering, always in the way and always taking his time. He does this because everything, big and small, are beautiful. He finds beauty in everything. That beauty transcends what is traditionally thought of as beauty. He believes everything and everyone contains some spark and it’s that spark that is happiness. It’s all about taking the time to see it.

Hey Jude;; The Beatles 

If there were a song dedicated to the Hufflepuff house, this would be it. Hey Jude was written to cheer up a little boy who was going through a messy divorce. He was told to “take a sad song and make it better”. That’s what Caradoc lives for. The world isn’t perfect -- especially the one he finds himself in now -- but there’s always a way to make it better. There’s always a way to lift your voice.

Touch the Sky;; Julie Fowlis

A dream of Caradoc’s is to travel. He vows that will go as far as he can and then some. Circumstances given what they currently are he knows it’s some time coming but it gives him something to look forward to. When the skies clear, he’s going to hit the road running so he can explore and share his findings with a world that will hopefully listen.

Run Boy Run;; Woodkid

Irene couldn’t help but chuckle as she surveyed the table around her. It was certainly a hodgepodge of parchment, books, quills, and an assortment of other things. She was happy that someone else had the same chaotic organization that she did. 

“I would agree I don’t know that this has happened to me before either.  Normally people just ask me to clear my stuff away or they leave my table.  Umm, lets start figuring out what books belong to each person?” 

When Irene laughed, a smile swept across his face. It was a nice laugh. She was sweet. Caradoc took in the mess on the table, but sat down and looked at Irene instead. “People always try to tell me to move. It’s so strange. Why can’t everyone just appreciate their differences and find something to laugh about? Sure this,” he motioned toward the table, “gets to be a little much sometimes, but why does everyone have to be the same? Being different makes everything beautiful.” 

Caradoc’s Hufflepuff ideals were coming out in spades and he had no idea why -- it was just a bunch of parchment, quills, books and odds and ends. But there was something symbolic in it. Then again, Caradoc saw something in everything.

“Sorry. Sometimes I get a little ...carried away.” He reached for a piece of parchment and picked it up trying to take the attention away from himself. “This quill is rather frilly, I assume it’s -- no, wait. That’s mine.”

madeline wasn’t bothered by most things, her emotions ran very deep beneath the surface and she saw little point to the passivity of anger and other emotions. she was a private person, she was calm waters, most of the time. she often however had to draw lines because other people seemed to ignore or not understand them. other people were more open, more affectionate, nosier. the sort of people who’d burst into your room without knocking, or without waiting for an answer after they did knock. she chose her circle very carefully, she didn’t often make new friends. she could be quite cold and selective and it didn’t bother her if anyone said the same or thought she was a bitch because she spent time to curate her friendships and keep herself comfortable. caradoc had barged in at the very start but he’d been quiet in his approach. now he was barreling over her lines in the sand and she had every right to put him back on the other side of them.

she all but ignored his ramble about writing, she just didn’t care, because she didn’t know him and they weren’t friends and it was too many details about something that only mattered to him. she wasn’t a slytherin for nothing. 

“i made it clear i was uncomfortable, all you should do is apologize.” she said coldly, she didn’t care about his further explanation as to what he’d meant or tried to say because all that mattered was what he had said and her perception of it. good intentions— and all that — often ended up in the rubbish bin. bygones be bygones? that wasn’t in her blood and she mentally refused such a tired idea.

It was obvious Madeline didn’t want to hear anything he was saying. It blew the wind out of Caradoc’s sails. He’d been talking about something he was passionate about and she pushed it to the side. He never understood how people did that. He was fascinated by others’ interests, whether they aligned with his or not.

The silence was palpable. Caradoc leaned over, putting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin. He squeezed his cheeks in with his long fingers. It was moments like this one he wished he could be as eloquent as he was on paper. 

Caradoc liked Madeline. They had just met but she had a fiery personality he’d found himself enjoying before putting his large foot in his even larger mouth. Her quick change in attitude and body language gave him little hope things would turn around. Surely there was a way to get back to the playful nature of their previous conversation. There was always a way to make things right. 

When Madeline finally spoke, Caradoc’s head popped up and looked at her, showing his willingness to listen to what she said. “You’re right,” he said confidently, “I get nervous when I realize I’ve said or done something to make someone uncomfortable so thank you for speaking up.” He wanted Madeline to see that he was being genuine. It’s all Caradoc could do. “I am sorry.”

she leaned away but not to be rude, she just wasn’t that sort of friendly, touchy person her peers were. she could be, but only for those closest to her, those she felt she could trust. “you can tell people whatever you want, the points are yours regardless.” she always thought it was funny when people wanted the points to mean something, when it could just be simple. one of the reasons she was so flippant with them, because it didn’t matter to her in the end who won the house cup, it didn’t personally affect anyone, not like the quidditch cup. he was such an odd duck and she was amused but too much more of his strange humor might just be too much.

“oh, so you’re a writer? you should sell your essay services, very lucrative i hear.” someone offered her money once for her own services and she’d hexed the shit out of them, and that was the end of that. “you’re not making sense anymore.” she said bluntly, quickly losing interest in his company.

the compliment served to make her uncomfortable, even if her ego was being stroked. this was why she was so bad at flirting, she didn’t think it should crop up in casual conversation. she ignored it, moved on. “well, they’re fifth years and yes i think there is a huge disparity between each year when it comes to experience and maturity. can’t be helped.” she felt offended by his mentioning of her sex life at all. “that isn’t your business.” she said with a razor sharp edge.

Caradoc noticed Madeline move and in response, sat with a straight back. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He was just friendly and didn’t alway understand personal boundaries. He was raised with affection all around. It was moments like this he counted himself lucky to appreciate physical closeness between people but understood that he didn’t know her so he continued to sit up straight. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Just for myself. No need to go prancing around with something I earned -- or just got from sitting here.”

When she responded to the fact that he wrote, he perked up and nodded. “I do write. I find it one of the best things in the world. There’s so much to say and to make words come to life on the page is brilliant.” Caradoc muffled a laugh. “I don’t know if I’m that kind of writer. People might do worse if I write for them. I just mean I tend to write fiction. I write about what I see and hear. I write about things I can touch and smell. Sure, I can do all those things in certain classrooms but that’s a different kind of knowledge than the kind that really excites me. I’ll have to keep that suggestion in mind though, thanks for the tip.” He smiled.

Then it all went downhill. And it had been going so well.

“Oh, Merlin, I -- no. I wasn’t trying to talk about your ...interactions. Or mine,” Caradoc was using his hands to speak so much he could have smacked himself -- or worse, Madeline -- in the head. “I just didn’t want to make assumptions or say something that would be wrong of me to ...assume. I don’t judge, I think that’s all I was getting at. I wouldn’t have wanted to say something to make you feel bad.” Caradoc slowed. “I’m a very private person so I understand. Bygones be bygones?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrows.

“why not? they’re just points, you can have ten just because, i do what i want.” she laughed. she wasn’t really sure how she made head girl but she’d take full advantage of the status and power it came with, mostly. his fist pump was comical and she found herself trying not to laugh and failing. this kid was something else, she usually didn’t spend time with people who were so — insecure.  “ah, hufflepuff, makes sense.” she couldn’t imagine someone like him in any other house after all.

“thank you, i tend to be good with words.” she humble bragged, but it was true. she chose hers carefully most of the time, she knew how much damage they could do with the right barbs attached.

“yeah, my eyes are too nice for that kind of affront to them. they’ll be done in a minute anyway.” she smirked, poor things, the noises made it sound like it wasn’t going so well. she was going to make it worse. “they’re just young and purely driven by hormones. but a cupboard? reeks of desperation. i almost feel badly for them.” but she didn’t. “well, if there is, i’m sorry.” she laughed.

He leaned in and quietly asked, “Can we just pretend I did something awesome to earn points?” He laughed at himself. No, house points weren’t everything and, yes, he didn’t earn many often, but that’s because people didn’t see how great he was at being a person. He could do better in classes but could hold his own. He wasn’t usually the first with his hand raised and didn’t always have the right answer, but there were things that mattered more to him than only school. “That’s me. Hufflepuff at your service,” he bowed while still seated. He was a goofball, something he was glad to see Madeline appreciated as much as he did.

“It doesn’t seem like it when I talk, but I like to think I have a way with words as well. Not very good when I say them out loud, but not half bad when I write them.” He nodded as though he was talking to himself. “Words are -- “ he stumbled, making his point, “Words are words, aren’t they?”

Caradoc looked at Madeline. “I think your eyes are too nice for a sight like that too.” He coughed. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing, it’s probably not good for anyone’s eyes to be honest. You say they like we’re not young. Huh. Odd. I know I have hormones but -- do you think we’re just a little bit more ...something since we don’t do it in broom closets? I mean -- I’m just assuming you don’t -- based on the conversation, it doesn’t seem like you would -- well, you don’t seem the type -- not that there’s anything wrong -- Oh Merlin, shut it, Caradoc.” He laughed and cheeks flushed. “This is why I write.”

The snow was crunchy under Caradoc’s feet as he walked the grounds. He held his hands in his coat pockets as he looked up at Hogwarts; the architecture, the differences in color depending on the sunlight, how it looked to reach to the heavens. He took in a deep sigh, breathing in the fresh, clean air.

For one who always had his head in the clouds, he was more aware than it may have appeared. Caradoc took in details others might overlook. He felt lucky in that way but also a bit sad that the people around them didn’t look up once in a while.

The air around him moved. Someone was near him. He looked over with a warm smile. “I’m glad someone else around here can appreciate the view.”

She shook her head. “Death is a natural part of life. Murder is not. There is a difference, even if some people don’t want to see it” she murmured, sighing softly to herself. People died every day, it was natural and necessary in her eyes, but murder was not, never had been and never would be.

“Some people can’t see beyond the tips of their fingers, or think past the ideas and ignorance’s that they have had to listen to, being spouted from those who are supposed to be their ‘role models’. Oh…” she must have misunderstood him, and frowned. They had been talking about two different perceptions of a ‘big world’. “I think it touches everyone, no matter where they’re located”.

“Now, that’s rubbish. Standing up for yourself is always worthwhile. That… those people… they’re not fighting, they’re killing people. If you had the opportunity to fight against them, and stop them, would you turn around and say ‘sorry, nice guys finish last, I’ll sit this one out?’” she asked, genuinely curious. For some reason, she didn’t like his attitude towards himself. Perhaps it was because she always had to fight, just to be seen sometimes (being as short as she was). 

Taking in what she said, Caradoc nodded along the way. He knew she was right. It sounded like they were saying some of the same things but in different ways. He believed everything she was saying wholeheartedly. And she said it so eloquently. Caradoc was never good at putting words together out loud which is why he wrote. He was always better with ink and paper. He loved it but at the same time infuriated that he couldn’t express himself during conversations -- especially important ones like this.

Caradoc furrowed his brow, thinking as much as he could about what he wanted to say next but only one thing came to mind. “You’re right. I completely agree with you.” He wanted to expand on that thought and tilted his head to the side. Death and murder were different. Death of natural causes was different than murder anyway. He knew that. Murder was something of evil, something he would never fully understand. Maybe it was something he didn’t want to understand on a certain level. He didn’t want to know the feeling of wanting to kill but -- “Have you ever wanted to figure out why they do it? Maybe if we could figure out what that thing is ticking in their brain to do such horrific acts we could do something to stop it.” It might have been a naive thought but there had to be something, he just didn’t know what at this point.

“Oh, I would fight them in a second. Murder is never okay,” Merlin, he wished he had a better word. “I would fight murderers if it meant my own death just to protect the ones I love -- and even the ones I may not be so fond of. There’s no question about that. I suppose what I meant was that what’s the point in fighting something so trivial? I know who I am -- or I’m learning -- and part of that is not giving in to the things that don’t matter and won’t matter in the end. There are more important things to think about now than someone shoving past me in the hall. That possibility of that person being murdered is more important than me mouthing off.”

“you’re fine, but points to you for being so quiet, what house are you in?” she was so carefree and petty about house points, it was the most fun she had as head girl. “i think that’s the beautiful design element of this space, both private and yet open. it’s my favorite spot in the castle i think.” she admitted strangely, not knowing why she had given that tidbit up. 

“oh no, as soon as they’re done and they come out i’m going to smack them with a month of detention and deduct twenty points from their house, or houses. it’s gross they’re doing that in public, and in a cupboard! they need to have consequences.” she said matter of fact. 

“i’d rather not, it’s not my thing to scare people like that, and i don’t need to see anyone with their pants round their ankles.” she smirked at the boy, he was blushing.

Caradoc’s face lit up with surprise. “I earned — I earned points for being quiet? I hardly ever earn points, let alone for being quiet. I’m a huge klutz who’s always making noise!” He made a triumphant fist and thrust it in the air, “Hufflepuff success!” He said as loud as a whisper would allow.

He listened to her talk about the place they’d found themselves in. Madeline seemed so confident and appreciative of her surroundings, something Caradoc could appreciate because he did the same. “That description is perfection. I love this building, these halls and its secrets. ...except for that one,” he pointed at the door where he heard noises no one should hear in public.

Madeline has declined his idea which left him a bit relieved. Their faces would have been priceless but — “you have a point. I wouldn’t want to see anyone’s trousers around their ankles. Or anything else for that matter,” he chuckled and shook his head. “How bad do they really — um — need it — to do it in a cupboard?” He took a moment and pondered. “I hope there’s not a Hufflepuff in there to take away the points I just earned.”

Aimee ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep herself from spiraling or letting her anxiety get the best of her. The bag would show up eventually. Even with Hogwarts being as big as it was, things had a habit of turning up, especially the last place that one would think to find them. “I’m sure! We all have things we’re protective over.” She smiled gratefully as he looked through the room, obviously trying to help. It was nice to know that someone was willing to… “It’s just a bag I’ve had forever. It’s silly, just… it’s just a bag. It’s not like it has some grand story, or that it’s something I need. But the thought of switching to a new one – that just sounds awful to me.”

He continued looking with no luck. The room was only so big and it felt like he was running out of places to look. “I’m not being very helpful. I can’t think — there must be some hiding place around here,” Caradoc ran his fingers along the walls, finding nothing.

“That’s a lovely way of looking at things. He smiled reassuringly at Aimee. “I never thought of it that way but you’re right. Still doesn’t change the craziness it makes you feel when you can’t find something special.”

As soon as Aimee tried to dismiss the meaning, Caradoc stopped her. “Whoa. Not every possession is important or have value but the ones that do should be held on to! There are ones that are irreplaceable. It’s not silly.” He was being more serious than he normally would allow himself. “If I were to lose my journal, I would lose my wits. It’s old and has stains and it’s not my first but it holds so much of me. Every time I fill one up and have to get a new one it feels strange but then it gets stains and the papers get ripped and it’s mine again. And the other one gets put away with care — never tossed.”

Aimee looked distressed. “I’m sorry we can’t find it. I’m trying and I don’t — why would anyone take it? Doesn’t seem right,” he looked at her with care in his face. “What would you like to do?”