Then talent show was amazing. Hogwarts has some talented students and everyone had fun. Until Sofie and Sylvie win. Some of their spirits dampened after that
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Michael was incredibly proud of all the kids. Particularly his grandkids. He was just glad he got to be here and see them. He was content to stand by the wall and watch them have fun.
“Mister Flint. Good evening. Congratulations on Sofie’s win tonight.” Which is a deeply patronising thing to say, but pureblood custom dictates it; after all, the achievements of the children of a family belong to the family, not themselves. “She did your family proud.”
Michael had never been good at being a pure blood and he hates all that nonsense. But he smiled anyway. "Sofie was brilliant, as usual. Thank you. She works hard and I am so proud of her." He looks around. "I'm proud of all them."
Aubrey can count the number of times his parents have said they were proud of him on one hand and still be left with enough fingers for a variety of rude gestures.
“Lunar Howl were certainly a winning hit with the audience, even if not the judges.”
Aimee wasn't sure she'd be able to make it and she almost didn't. She was late and almost missed seeing Blue's band perform. And she really couldn't stay long so she made the rounds. She greeted people and kept an eye out for her kid and then other ones she came to see.
Lottie was exhibiting so much grace and self-control, in her opinion. Not winning had hurt quite a bit more than she thought it would and all she really wanted to do was maybe hit something real hard and pick apart everything she'd done to figure out how to be better. Maybe she should've gone with a love song instead of the song she'd settled on or censored it more, although she felt that the curses had been tame enough to get away with. Or she should've worked with someone else like a lot of the other acts had, probably that was worth more points. Or the effects should've been different, at the time the flashing and changing lights had seemed really sick. They'd figured out how to project fairly good pictures from her phone, at the time the selection had seemed good. Fighting Fish was the song she'd come back to again and again over the last few weeks, finding she had a lot to say about herself, who she was, who she wanted to be. Pasha hadn't shown up in any of the photos but thematically--the Harpie's locker room, the speedball at
( ... )
"Our songs were both great," she was trying not to pout and be good and be supportive and all of that, but she knew Alfie was at least going to feel as put out as she did. They usually vibed like that.
Sylvie has been so excited about the win but she was feeling a bit off now? She's not sure why. She was scanning the food table and trying not to think about what might have happened if she'd performed alone.
Hati hadn't been to Hogwarts in a very long time, but she remembered enough to step away unobtrusively when she'd run through the short list of people she knew here and wanted to acknowledge knowing. She wasn't so much wondering as loitering in the fringes, drinking overly sweet punch and examining a particularly interesting bit of charmwork on a painting.
Aubrey didn’t know who Hati was, which meant he didn’t know whether he should be seen talking to her or not. But she had been talking to Michael Flint with familiarity and to Blue Grey in a way, both casual and slightly awkward, that spoke of actual family, and curiosity had won out over propriety. He did wait until they were least likely to be overseen before approaching, though.
“It’s a DeBrandt restoration,” Aubrey said, nodding at the painting. “The original was likely from the thirteenth century, but the update is nineteenth."
She considered the kid, the painting, and sipped her punch, "It's cursed. Hard to dispel, I guess, someone just put the opposite curse over it." This was exactly the kind of thing that made her love Hogwarts dearly.
He smiles a little at ‘fight club’, and covers it with a small bow-appropriate for strangers of equal rank-and doesn’t offer his hand. “Aubrey Macdonald, of the Sleat Macdonalds.”
(Which will tell her a lot or absolutely nothing, depending on how much she knows of the internal politics of Clan Donald.)
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“Mister Flint. Good evening. Congratulations on Sofie’s win tonight.” Which is a deeply patronising thing to say, but pureblood custom dictates it; after all, the achievements of the children of a family belong to the family, not themselves. “She did your family proud.”
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“They’ll be glad to hear that, sir.”
Aubrey can count the number of times his parents have said they were proud of him on one hand and still be left with enough fingers for a variety of rude gestures.
“Lunar Howl were certainly a winning hit with the audience, even if not the judges.”
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"He always is," Aimee hugged him.
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Lottie was exhibiting so much grace and self-control, in her opinion. Not winning had hurt quite a bit more than she thought it would and all she really wanted to do was maybe hit something real hard and pick apart everything she'd done to figure out how to be better. Maybe she should've gone with a love song instead of the song she'd settled on or censored it more, although she felt that the curses had been tame enough to get away with. Or she should've worked with someone else like a lot of the other acts had, probably that was worth more points. Or the effects should've been different, at the time the flashing and changing lights had seemed really sick. They'd figured out how to project fairly good pictures from her phone, at the time the selection had seemed good. Fighting Fish was the song she'd come back to again and again over the last few weeks, finding she had a lot to say about herself, who she was, who she wanted to be. Pasha hadn't shown up in any of the photos but thematically--the Harpie's locker room, the speedball at ( ... )
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"Our songs were both great," she was trying not to pout and be good and be supportive and all of that, but she knew Alfie was at least going to feel as put out as she did. They usually vibed like that.
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"That was amazing," Cade beamed at her, entirely sincere, "You're a really good dancer." He offered his arms out for a hug, if she wanted it.
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She grins and hugs him. "You think so?" she asks.
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"Yeah," he leaned in a little to tell her a secret, "I think you were my favorite. Don't tell Blue, okay?"
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Aubrey didn’t know who Hati was, which meant he didn’t know whether he should be seen talking to her or not. But she had been talking to Michael Flint with familiarity and to Blue Grey in a way, both casual and slightly awkward, that spoke of actual family, and curiosity had won out over propriety. He did wait until they were least likely to be overseen before approaching, though.
“It’s a DeBrandt restoration,” Aubrey said, nodding at the painting. “The original was likely from the thirteenth century, but the update is nineteenth."
Reply
She considered the kid, the painting, and sipped her punch, "It's cursed. Hard to dispel, I guess, someone just put the opposite curse over it." This was exactly the kind of thing that made her love Hogwarts dearly.
"You had the fight club."
Reply
He smiles a little at ‘fight club’, and covers it with a small bow-appropriate for strangers of equal rank-and doesn’t offer his hand. “Aubrey Macdonald, of the Sleat Macdonalds.”
(Which will tell her a lot or absolutely nothing, depending on how much she knows of the internal politics of Clan Donald.)
Reply
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