Descent {Jack}

[Cyrus Thorn]

The night was chilly, the breeze racing through the hallways, zipping under archways and cutting student’s cheeks fiercely. Cyrus was not too bothered by this matter. He had long ago learnt that England had awful weather, and certainly did not expect sun in November. This did not, of course, stop him from wearing his best black Galliano coat as tight around his body as it would go. To match, he wore a thick grey scarf that hugged his neck and refused entry to even the smallest breeze. His hands were even clad in thick, yet undeniably stylish, leather gloves. In fact everything about Cyrus was like those gloves; dark, strong, and undeniably stylish. Sure the gloves weren’t for everyone. They would look ridiculous on snivelling Hufflepuffs, pretentious on raging Gryffindors, and just an insult on a whining Ravenclaw. Similarly, they were definitely just for men and would look out of place on a girl’s slender hands. Even Olivia, who Cyrus thought looked ravishing in anything, would look daft in the gloves…

He scowled at the thought. How on earth had Dawson got into his head? Since their last encounter, she’d been doing that a lot. Getting into his head, filling his head with thoughts of her far from ‘decent’ clothes and that odd, endearing look she always had in her defiant eyes. Stop it, Thorn. He nodded mentally as he scolded himself, and turned his attentions back to the former topic in mind. His ensemble was always important to him. If you didn’t look presentable, people would think you didn’t care for the occasion, or yourself. If you didn’t look expensive, then they might come to the conclusion that you couldn’t afford nicer clothes- which would lead them to thinking that, if they did have more money, they were instantly better than you. Cyrus smiled to himself at the ludicrous thought that someone could be better than him. He was not self-centred, but knew that his moral, his character, everything about him, was enough to make him succeed. And what could be better than succeeding? Nothing. He assured himself. Nothing.

His thoughts were broken by a movement close by, and he instantly cocked his head to see who was intruding. He had been leaning against a wall on the inside of the castle, but in view of the open tower only a few metres away, the tower steps below him. His eyes tracked the face of another boy in the dark and he nodded ever so slightly as recognition came to him. Reid. He hid his momentary surprise that he would have company, wanted or otherwise, that night. It was dark, cold, and against the school rules by half an hour to be on the towers at this hour. Cyrus was however, about to make his way back to the Dungeons. Despite the lack of light he didn’t need to cast a lumos or be burdened with a candlestick to see his way. He had very good eyesight, but it was mainly his familiarity of the tower and castle that helped him get around so swiftly most nights.

Without wasting time wondering why Reid was out, Cy quickly went over what he knew about the boy. He was a Slytherin, but lately that seemed to mean less and less to the lower years. Only recently Cy had been honoured with the presence of a girl who did certainly not deserve to be a witch, let alone a Slytherin. What else… he had a brother, did he not? A Ravenclaw, if Cyrus could recall. This was unimportant to him however, as neither face nor name of the brother came to him. If he didn’t know his name, he couldn’t be worth thinking about. Cy’s mind finally rested on something useful. Jack was – or had been recently, to Cyrus’ knowledge- dating a Gryffindor girl. The irritating one who hadn’t seemed to have found her place in the world just yet. Nice face, although too much smiling went on, if Cyrus recalled correctly. He hadn’t seen the two together (he had much more important things to do than watch soppy cross-house couples pretend to be adults) but he had heard that they had seemed inseparable of late. How delightful. Sickening, more like. Instantly Cyrus knocked some points from Reid’s tally. Letting a Gryffindor steal his pride like that… definitely not something to boast about.

But in the elder Slytherin’s eye, this boy before him was not completely laughable yet, nor completely lost to his house. So he did not refuse his presence nor speak in a particularly cruel tone at first; he was a little too tired to pretend to care about how the other boy would respond however, so his voice was certainly not as welcoming as it could have been. “Reid, out so late could get you in trouble.” He didn’t look Reid in the eyes as he spoke, but turned to watch the world outside the castle through the large, open arcs in the opposite tower instead. “And without your ball and chain, how very independent.” The smirk in his tone was obvious. “Are you returning to the dungeons, or do you wish to remain where the prefects can bite you awhile longer?” After this the left side of his mouth curled lazily into a smile, and he turned, waiting at the top of his steps before beginning the long descent. He did not particularly care if the boy left the windy hall with him. The fact that he was even asking the question was quite out of character for Cy.

((Just realised you already have a few posts in Hogwarts- sorry to pile it up here. :3))

[Jack Reid]

Jack Reid was tired. Tired of classes and lessons. Tired of being looked at like the outcast because he was dating a Gryffindor girl like Riley. Much of his house likely looked at him with a glaring eye because of that fact. He didn’t care. He held himself to a higher standard than the primitive standard that all his cohorts held themselves to. Jackson had taught him the most about being an heir in the simplest way possible: do nothing. His father had let him learn on his own. Jack knew that his grandfather had treated his father the same way, and because of that, Jack would (and did) receive the same treatment. He was walking up the steps to get to the towers, where he spent his time alone many times. While it was getting close to curfew, Jack needed to get out in the cool air and clear his mind. Jackson and Mum had been on his mind for much of the day, which is what happened when he got stressed out from too much work in one day.

Jack was dreading the winter break coming up. It was only a few days before they took the train back to the station where they would meet Jackson to take them back to Scotland via port key. The past year had been different. Jack hadn’t gone home for Christmas because he had been in such a funk and it had escalated with a fight with his father. Jack didn’t even remember what the exact fight was, except that Jackson had nearly hit his own son because of his mouth. Jack also couldn’t stand seeing his mother the way she was. It was too painful to think of what his own father had likely planned and done to his wife. Jack shook the thought again and walked through the door leading out to the opening, and as he pushed it open, in the moonlight he saw a figure. He knew immediately what he was in for. It was a Slytherin seventh year, Cyrus Thorn. While Jack didn’t know the boy well, he knew enough to know how to react and act around him.

Jack slowly walked over to the boy, seeing perfectly with the dim light. He had always had excellent sight, even at dark, and since Cyrus hadn’t pulled out his wand to cast a lumos to light the area, Jack assumed he could see just as well as he could. “Reid, out so late could get you in trouble,” Thorn said arrogantly. “Well, Thorn, I doubt that. Besides, I’m sure we’d both be in the same predicament if caught up here in the towers,” Jack said simply. Cyrus made a jab about Riley, and Jack wasn’t surprised. Slytherins always acted like this. When Jack had asked Riley out, he knew the backlash he would receive, and he welcomed it. “You’d be wise to watch your mouth, Thorn. Or I might have to shut it for you.” Jack had no intention of getting into an altercation up here at this hour, but if he had to prove a point, he had no problem giving Cyrus a bit of lesson. “Came up here to rest my mind a bit. Wrestling with some demons, you know. Prefects won’t be out for a bit yet, I figured I had some time to get some air.” Jack knew he didn’t have to explain himself to the boy in front of him, and he had no intent to, at all.

Jack looked out across the castle grounds, over the edge of the tower edge. He snapped his cloak tight as he attempted to keep himself warm. The wind had picked up a bit, and he could feel Cyrus’ cold stares at him. Likely the boy was judging his choice of spot to collect his thoughts, and also Cyrus was likely thinking of how a simple Gryffindor could sway his heart to go in the way that it had. “Speaking of which, why are you up here so late, anyway? Shouldn’t the illustrious Cyrus Thorn be studying or beating up some young witch or wizard, giving him a lesson he’ll always remember? Or are you actually having a change of heart? Likely not, but anything can happen, I guess.” Jack honestly wished the boy would just leave him to his thoughts, but it was a free place to be, and he couldn’t force the boy away. Jack waited to see what his response would be.

[Mrs Norris]

This time of night was perfect for Mrs Norris. The castle was cold after the sun had gone to sleep but the corridors would be empty. Empty of students running to and fro. Empty of prefects as it was a little too early for them to be out yet. Empty of professors as they would be in their classrooms grading an essay or thinking of their next lesson plan. She would have the castle to herself. Unless of course, she ran into Peeves. Which was always a possibility but he usually was not found in the place where she was headed tonight. Tonight she wanted some air. She wanted to be by herself for a while. The bald headed man could be a little much sometimes. She often wondered how he survived before they met. He seemed absolutely helpless without her. Plus, while the professors and students could make things happen with a wooden stick, she had never seen the bald headed with one. If only he had a wooden stick like the rest. It would make his life easier.

She took her time climbing the steps of the tower. The stone steps were made for people legs not cat legs. Although she had no real difficulty with them she was not as young as she used to be. Where students could step over a fake step she had to leap over it and make the landing just right. These stone steps were eroding over time and it made them quite slippery in some places. If she fell, it was a long way to the bottom. That would be number four. Or was it her fifth? She never really decided if in fact she had died when the giant snake had turned her to stone or if she was just sleeping for a long time. Nevertheless, she didn't want to waste one life on a silly thing like the stone steps. She judged the distance and sticking her tail out as a balancing tool she leaped to the step two above her avoiding the fake one. She landed perfectly as she knew she would. Mrs Norris almost wished that someone was there to see her at that moment. But quickly shook the thought and continued her journey up the tower.

Although it was going to be cold outside, she would be able to see the entire castle ground and just have a minute or two to herself. She was off duty tonight and really could care less what the students were doing with themselves. That wasn't true. If she saw a student breaking the rules, she would do something about it. Maybe not. Maybe tonight she would let them break the rules and live with the consequences. She couldn't kitty-sit them forever. Someday they would have to grow up and live with their own actions. She wouldn't always be there to protect them. Her soft paws made no noise on the hard castle floor as she made her way to her destination. So if they were students out at this time of night, she would hear them well before they even noticed her. She would most likely have to make herself known to them if she wanted to be noticed.

Rounding the final corner she heard voices. Human voices. Both seemed to belong to males. There had better not be any students out of this time of night. This was her night off! There was no way that she would be going down the stairs just as she had finally made it to the top. It was dark and she was still near the wall so there was no chance they would spot her. She would just take a peek. Just a little one. Maybe they were professors out here having a discussion on one of the great lights in the sky. Her cat eyes could easily see, much to her dismay, that the voices belonged to two young males. Students. Mrs Norris was in a jam. Rules were rules and they were breaking them. However, she didn't want to get the bald headed man, she was trying to have a little time away from him. Suddenly an idea struck her. Maybe she could scare them into doing what she wanted. What if it appeared as though she was retrieving the bald headed man? Would they do what she wanted? It was worth a try.

She moved her body to a spot that she could see them quite clearly and she knew once she got their attention, they would be able to see her. She sat down on her hind legs and started to swish her tail from side to side. One of her favourite positions. "Meow," she announced her presence to them. Once she was positive that they had seen her, she removed herself further into the shadows out of their sight. Human vision was not as nearly as good as feline vision in the dark. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan, they would think she had left to go get the bald headed man. This would make them go to their common rooms and she would be able to have her tower all to herself.

[Cyrus Thorn]

The boy’s first words hadn’t surprised Cyrus; there was that element of a cocky tone in them which, although he had not expected, was probably present in most Slytherin voices. Cyrus had found most in his house to hold the tone, and he knew he himself was no exception. Probably the natural Slytherin determination… after all to be determined you had to believe you could achieve something; and to achieve something you had to be better than an opponent. This gave you a talent, a skill, an ability. And why not be proud of that? He supposed that the boy hadn’t thought himself arrogant, but Thorn knew otherwise. Shaking the thought away for now Cyrus let out a soft chuckle when Jack suggested that he too might get in trouble. “I’m amazed you think that, because we’re in the same place at the same time, we would be given the same treatment if caught. I can assure you, Reid, we are very different.” It took a moment for him to process the kid’s next words- and when he finally realised that his ears had not been playing a joke on him, could not suppress another laugh. It was incredibly entertaining, truly, that this little boy believed he could… what was the phrase used? ‘Shut his mouth for him’ ? Incredibly entertaining indeed. “What are you, Reid? Some ten-year old mudblood? I would welcome such an attempt to… shut my mouth, as I believe you called it. That would be the day.” He chuckled to himself again as if still amused by a lingering joke shared between friends – though the boys were far from friends. As if anyone could make him shut his mouth.

It took another moment to fight off the urge to attack the boy verbally – and maybe physically – for his clear disrespect to his elders. It was well known that Cyrus was… well, not someone to show disrespect to. He had worked for years to gain his reputation. It had, admittedly, taken only a couple to gain it inside Hogwarts (the minds of the pupils were so easy to manipulate and scare…) but another four to make sure he was also someone to watch and show respect to outside of Hogwarts. While he pressed down the urge to teach Jack Reid a thing or two about respect to his betters, he realised the boy was talking once more- and the two had company. Mrs Norris… ugh. Cyrus stared at the thing with disgust as he passed her. “Mangy dog.” He muttered before paying attention – at least, a little – to the boy’s words. With a look of bored incredulity he scowled. “Sorry – I don’t recall asking you to tell me your life story, kid.” Stupid boy, clearly. What made him think that Cyrus would be even remotely interested by his ‘demons’? Thorn didn’t know. It was amazing that people just rambled off with their words like that. He would not have been all that surprised if Jack Reid started telling him how his mother’s childhood had been, whether or not his father wore elbow pads on his jackets, and maybe the techniques he thought had the best results when kissing Riley.

Oh, great. The kid was talking again. Would it ever stop? Cyrus continued down the steps with Jack and sighed – loudly, of course – making it obvious how tedious this was. But he humoured the boy simply because he was tired, and staying silent was sometimes too much effort. “Not that it’s any of your business?” He threw the kid a cold glare. “Believe it or not, some people have things to think about that are more important than a girlfriend’s undeveloped body or how on earth your father will accept her. I’m often here.” He stopped suddenly at the boy’s next words, amused instantly. “Studying? … Beating up?!” Truly, he was amazed at how little this boy seemed to know about the illustrious Cyrus Thorn. With another sigh he proceeded to explain a few things. He didn’t want to really; his studying habits, or lack of, and how he dealt with enemies, were no business of Reid’s. But he lazily let the words fall as he continued down the stairs again. “I don’t study. I don’t need to. As for… beating up, I can assure you I have never laid a hand on any pupil here or elsewhere, so as to ‘beat’ them.” Reid’s choice of words really had irritated him. Cyrus was telling the truth too. He looked after his body, but was not a physical fighter and didn’t see the point in wrestling and other fighting sports that used body parts. If he really needed someone to teach someone a lesson physically, he would have no trouble in arranging it without getting his own hands dirty. However he was a marvellous dueller and always would welcome a duel; but, turning back to Jack’s words, never with a ‘young witch or wizard’. What fun would that be? No competition, after all.