Because Making Friends Isn't Easy

Blaire Sabian stood in line, hands in pockets, waiting patiently to move to the front of the line. He was in the housing office, and was waiting to get his roommate assignment, along with dorm number. Key cards were not a necessity, they WERE wizards after all, but a complimentary one was given as protocol. He had been waiting in line for about a half hour, now; Salem Academy only had one housing office to cover all four dormitories. Kids of all ages and houses were waiting, many of them considerably less patient.

It took another five minutes or so before he made it to the front of the line. A rather level headed witch sat at her desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment with a quill.

“Name, house, and year.” She asked rather tersely, not looking up.

“Blaire Sabian, Meriwether, fourth year.” Was his stoic reply. The witch flicked her quill towards the file drawers behind her. One drawer magically opened, and out of it flew a piece of paper. From a stack of papers another sheet flew up, both floating over to Blaire and into his hands.

“This is your roommate assignment, along with the rules and codes applying to the dorms. Your key card should be in your room; if you have trouble with your roommate, or any questions, see your dorm officer of come back to this office. Have a nice day.” She spoke in a monotone, and she never looked up. Blaire nodded his head in reply, and turned on his heel. He headed towards the Meriwether and Burkenshire dorms and glanced at the paper. Floor level: Two. Room number: 220. Roommate: Denver Ellington.

Denver Ellington watched from a distance as the line for rooming got shorter and shorter. He had gotten to school early that day, but he was in no rush to get his room assignment. He checked to see if his roommate had gotten there yet earlier today, and seeing that he had not, he decided to wait a bit. He preferred to let his roommate settle in first. It gave him time to walk around the campus a bit, exploring the changes, and avoiding the crowds that would begin to appear as he made his way throughout the year. That was why the first day of the school year was his favorite--it was a controlled chaos, watching everyone bustle about, paying him no attention. He was not forced into the sunlight, from the shadows he had always secretly preferred to hide in.

However, when the line had dwindled down, Denver finally decided to walk up and get his room assignment. He already knew his room and his roommate, having some leverage in the school, but he still had to go pick up the sheet, or he would be reported as absent from the school property. That could lead to some trouble, as all the students were expected to be on campus by that day.

When the line was completely abandoned, Denver made his way up to the main desk, finally. The woman there was one that was quite familiar to Denver from the past years on campus--she rather liked him, and while she barked at the other students, she always saved him a bright, beaming smile, which Denver had always found a bit creepy, and out of place. It was clear that she was unused to smiling, though Denver never knew the reason for her bitterness.

She did not look up at him at first, barking "Name, house, and year," with a tone that said it was something she had said thousands of times. "Denver Ellington, Meriwether, fourth year," Denver said clearly, but with a hint of something else in his voice, possibly boredom. However, the name and the voice caused a flicker of recognition in the woman's eyes, and she looked up, a brilliant, although awkward, smile on her face. "Hello there, dear," she said, with tiny hints of a southern accent appearing in her voice which weren't there before. "Hello," Denver said amiably, not encouraging her enthusiasm, but not discouraging it either. It sometimes paid to have someone in the school administration be on his side. His brief response was a response, and this caused a smile to light up her face. She went to find the a piece of paper with his rooming assignment on it, digging around in the file folder. As she tracked down the sheet, she asked him questions about his summer--Denver suspected she was taking far longer to find the paper than she usually did. Once she finally found it, she handed it over to him triumphantly, although a bit sadly. "Well, you take care of yourself, honey," she said, and Denver muttered a quick thank you, and a goodbye.

He wandered towards his dorm, knowing already what he'd find. Blaise should already be settled in, and his side of the room should be sterile, with the bare minimum brought in by the school. It was time for introductions, Denver thought, preparing himself as he opened the door to the dorm room.

Blaire had opened the door and nearly fainted in surprise at what he saw. No, not really. The room was exactly like his room last year; there wasn't much to be surprised by. Two beds, opposite side of the room. Two trunks, at the foot of the bed. One window, no blinds or shutters. That would have to be fixed, Blaire noted to himself. He should have to request Meriwether curtains sounded good. Until then...Blaire took out his wand and shook it at the window. A cover magically appeared, filtering the amount of sunlight coming into the room. It wasn't that Blaire dislike the sun, he just found it a nuisance at time.

Setting his single suitcase on his bed, he glanced once more around the room and began to unpack. He had already gotten his books, and those took up most of his suitcase. He set them to the left side of his trunk, along with parchment, quills, and his handy Cauldron, along with some other miscellaneous school supplies. To the right went his clothes, which consisted of jeans, a pair of skate shoes, and several plain cotton shirts. A pullover, a jacket, and a vest followed in suit. He had one pair of dress robes, and another pair of regular wizarding-robes. And that as pretty much it. He wasn't one much for many possessions. In fact, the only thing that was remotely important to him was his photos, and his necklace.

His necklace was a silver panther, strung on a piece of black leather. His photos were of his mother, and himself, and a single old photograph of his father. Blaire admired them for a moment. He was about to place them in his trunk when the door opened. He turned, preparing himself. "Time to meet the roomie," he thought to himself.

Denver wasn't nervous about meeting his roommate. Denver wasn't really the type of person to get nervous. Sure, he was human, and there were some things that made him ill at ease, but when it came to other people, there was very little he couldn't handle. He had already done some digging around to find out more about Blaire, so he had a general idea of what to expect. From what he heard, he wasn't sure that Blaire would be the type of person he could be particularly close to--he sounded like an okay guy, just not the type Denver would usually make friends with. In fact, it sounded like Blaire was not the type anyone would usually make friends with, not because he was a bad person, but because he didn't care to make friends with them. He seemed rather anti-social, from what Denver had heard, but very good at magic. However, Denver had learned by that point not to trust the word on the street completely, as people were prone to be biased, interpreting things based on their own role in events. Denver was human as well, but he had fine-tuned his perceptive skills over the years on the campaign trail with his parents. He was very rarely wrong.

Thus, Denver was not really anxious as he walked into the room. He popped his head in, first, making sure that his roommate was all situated, already. He was pleased to see that everything was folded and neatly set in the trunk at the end of the bed--his roommate was not one of those people whose belongings took up the entire floorspace. That would make life easier.

He eased into the room, taking his time, and closing the door behind him. He turned to Blaire, sticking his hand out. His voice was comfortable and easy as he said, "Hey there. I'm guessing you're Blaire?" It was a very stupid opening, but he did not really see the need to try and impress anyone. That was one thing about Denver--he very rarely tried to please. He often did, though, without meaning anything by it. It was just the way he was. He watched Blaire's expression carefully. He seemed rather guarded, but there was a spark of intelligence in his eyes that was undeniable. Maybe they would get along, after all.

Blaire nodded a head towards Denver. “Yeah, I am Blaire.” His voice was soft, but not unmasculine. “You must be Denver.” He nodded, again, mostly to his self, and cocked his head. Denver Ellington, top of his class, smart, popular, distant, driven. He was a teacher’s wet dream, a girl’s soul mate, and a boy’s top rival. Had Blaire been anyone else but himself, he would have been intimidated. But Blaire really was uncaring. Having Denver as a roommate would probably be beneficial to both of them, considering both were quite driven and focused. Unless, of course, Denver was into the ladies. In which case... Blaire winced to himself, remembering his first roommate last year. It hadn’t ended well for either of the boys.

Blaire took a closer look at his roommate, and did a quick analysis. Smart, genius even, and driven. Conservative. Attractive, and knew it. This fit everything Blaire already knew about the boy. Despite the fact that they were probably both on the same level academic wise, their social levels couldn’t be farther apart. It was funny, though, that they had never met formally before; the school was big, but not that big. However, despite the fact that they had never met, Blaire knew quite a bit about Denver. Such was the ways of someone observant. Know everyone, but no one knowing you.

This entire thought process ran through his head in a matter of seconds, and as he took in these musings he nodded over to Denver. “I hope you don’t mind I took this bed,” he gestured to the left side of the room.

“I hope you don’t mind I took this bed,” Blaire said. Denver smiled. "I don't mind a bit. First come, first serve, after all, and I'm not really picky when it comes to that kind of thing."

Denver watched Blaire's movements: they were subtle, but deliberate. Denver knew that he was being watched the same way that he was watching Blaire, but it did not really bother him. It was something he was used to, for the most part, though every once in a while someone could catch him off guard. Instead, Blaire was indirectly telling him more about himself than just a simple conversation ever could. For one thing, Blaire was clearly observant. Denver could see it in his eyes, watching, taking in, analyzing every move that Denver made. Second, it cemented Blaire's intelligence--or, at least, his intelligence in regards to people. He clearly knew what he was doing, Denver thought approvingly.

However, Blaire seemed to be even more guarded than he himself was, and a lot more open about being guarded. Denver could hide behind his looks, or his popularity, and no one would notice that no one really knew what he was thinking. Denver was a good guy, as far as everyone else was concerned, and that was all they needed. However, Denver (and apparently, Blaire, as well) had depth to him that the multitudes could not see. In an odd sort of way, Blaire should have been Denver's opposite, but was in fact very similar to him. He had that same sort of reserved, subtle way of doing things, although in Denver, it was often overlooked. He always looked comfortable, never at odds with the world, and everyone saw that, and that alone. Blaire, however, did not have that same appearance--he did not really look uncomfortable, but he didn't have that same sort of natural charisma that Denver had. He wasn't a people person, that much was clear. He seemed like a good enough person, though, Denver decided.

Denver slowly went to unpack his stuff, filling his trunk and folding everything neatly. He never brought much with him to Salem Academy for the year--only the necessities. He always thought it was ridiculous to bring trunk after trunk of stuff that served no purpose. Once Denver had finished unpacking, he sat on his bed.

"So, I think that tradition is that we're supposed to do the whole 'getting to know you' thing," Denver mused out loud, very light hints of sarcasm and amusement in his voice.

Blaire hadn't really paid any attention to Denver as he unpacked. He did, however, notice that Denver had brought even less than him, if that was possible. Less was more, in Blaire's opinion, and he respected a man who didn't need many material possessions. While Denver unpacked, Blaire finished putting all of his stuff away, and then to make his bed. He could have used his wand to make it, he knew, but it was just as good for him to do it by hand. He was hardly lazy, and he had nothing really else to do.

The silence in the room was comforting. Blaire knew the other rooms wouldn't be. Fourth years were hardly known for being reserved; and he knew the silence charms placed upon the room was the only reason it appeared silent in the building. Had he gone into the hall way, doubtless he would be met by boys of all shapes and sizes scurrying around, left and right. He preferred the quiet, though, not like that as any surprise.

Denver's voice startled him from his reverie. He mused over the words thoughtfully. "I suppose we must." He agreed. "How should we start this? Names? I am Blaire Sabian." He grinned a bit, at that. "Though I am sure you already knew that."

"How should we start this? Names? I am Blaire Sabian." He grinned a bit, at that. "Though I am sure you already knew that." Blaire grinned, and Denver couldn't help but mirror the expression. "I'm Denver Ellington. But I am sure you already knew that, also." He paused for a second--a very silent, though surprisingly not at all awkward second. Denver's mouth twisted up into a wry smile. "We're really bad at this, you know? We should probably try a different approach other than staring uncomfortably at each other."

Sadly, this was only a slight exaggeration. Both seemed to be staring, trying to see something they hadn't before. Denver was always like this, so this was hardly anything new, but it was strange for the other person to be reciprocating the analysis. However, Denver took it in stride, and Blaire did not seem to be fazed.

This conversation, though, it seemed, was going absolutely nowhere. This could be potentially awkward, considering the fact that they would be rooming with each other for the rest of the year.

Blaire agreed with Denver. There conversation, albeit funny, was going no where. Absolutely, positively, no where. Honestly, though, Blaire wasn't as worried as Denver. Conversations that went no where, were, in fact, his specialty. And he doubted things would be awkward between them. Both boys, as far as he could tell, liked the silence.

Blaire had also picked up on Denver's quiet but intuitive stare. It mimicked his own, which he found both intriguing and unnerving. However, he didn't feel anything sinister coming from the other boy, and therefore felt he was safe.

Blaire had been in these situations before. The situation where two quiet people where thrown together and expected to make conversation, and failed. Blaire knew Denver and had expected him to make a first move. In both occasions, he had. Now, though, Blaire figured, it was time to step up to the plate.

He moved himself from a standing position to lay down on his bed, his arms behind his head. Might as well go full out if we are to have a conversation, he thought. "Well, honestly, what is there to talk about?" He mused, nodding his head in Denver's direction. "I expect we are much similar, you and I. We are both perpetually neat, that is most definite." He nodded his head at this. "We both contain somewhat high intellects, along with magically abilities." He grinned at this. "Not to mention we are both in Meriwether, which means our core characters can't be too different." He stopped here, pushing the conversation back to Denver.

Denver grinned. Blaire had pretty much hit the nail on the head in the way of observations. That was the exact same conclusion that Denver had made, and he was very glad to know that they were on the exact same page. It would make matters so much simpler. From Denver's perspective, the two of them seemed to be the opposite sides of the same coin. Both were intelligent, both were good-looking (according to the general population), and both were naturally more subdued. However, out in the world outside, they couldn't be any more different. Denver was a social creature, although it wasn't precisely by choice. People liked him, and he found people interesting. He was not the most chatty person, though, unless he needed to be. Blaire, on the other hand, didn't really talk to people. From what Denver had gathered, if you spoke to him, he would speak with you, but he wasn't very much of an initiator when it came to conversation. That aspect of Blaire's personality seemed to be having an impact on Denver--Denver was one of those people who always subconsciously morphed to suit a conversation with a specific person, and Blaire's own reserved nature was dragging out his own.

"It's really rather ironic," Denver mused, his eyes bright, "that given the fact that we have so much in common, we really don't have a thing to talk about. You would think that similar qualities would give way to similar interests and some sort of educated conversation, wouldn't you?" He paused, for a second before realizing that he opened up a possible conversational topic. "What ARE your interests? Besides school and magic, of course. Those two are a given."

Denver made Blaire laugh, so he did. Laugh, that is. He spent a few seconds chuckling to himself, the first real humor of the day, and mused to himself thoughtfully. “Me? Like to do things?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I like drinking coffee. Reading books. Walking.” He shrugged again. ‘I like being in my panther form,’ he wanted to say, but he didn’t. He didn’t know Denver well enough to share that, yet. Not that it was a secret, or anything. But the more powers you kept hidden, the better off you are in the long run, he knew.

“Erm, I like going to the gym?” He laughed some more at this, and nearly fainted. Here he was, attempting a conversation with someone. Good Gods, Blaire Sabian opening up to someone? Becoming friends? His barriers went up a little at this, and his laugh slowed to a stop. Not meaning to be awkward, he smoothly nodded over to Denver and asked him, “What do you like to do, then?”

While Denver answered, Blaire thought to himself. He was being rather open and carefree, and it was unlike him. He had walls for a reason, and it was funny how this boy he had hardly known was coming in and breaking them down. Granted, Denver was more like Blaire than anyone he had ever met before, but they did have one difference. Denver was content with playing the part of the well-loved, ever so popular Prince of the school. Blaire, however, was not. Not that this was bad on Denver, it was actually more admirable, but this difference was, indeed, drastic. He mused over this.

Denver listened as Blaire spoke--there was a hint of humor in his voice, as if the whole situation was amusing. However, there was also something else, some underlying tone in his voice that was barely visible, but definitely there. Denver could have sworn that it was surprise, almost, in the most ironic, toned-down way possible. Denver might not have noticed it if he hadn't had practice--most people, even if they did catch it, would have just ignored it. However, Denver never ignored things like that--he did not make mistakes, and he did not just imagine things in people's tones.

Denver did not know Blaire well enough to pinpoint the cause--he DID know that that was the most words in a row he had ever heard him utter, and pondering what he knew, Denver suspected that had something to do with it. Denver was quite good at getting people talking, whether he was comfortable himself in a situation or not. Blaire was not the type of person who talked a lot, and it was completely reasonable that his openness was taking him by surprise. It certainly was taking Denver by surprise, in a mild sort of way.

Even listening to Blaire's list of things he enjoyed, described with a sort of nonchalance in his voice, there was something that surprised him. Blaire did not exactly seem like the type who enjoyed going to the gym a ton--he certainly looked in shape, but it never quite registered in Denver's head.

Finally, he went to address Blaire's question.

"I play Quidditch, although I'm nothing spectacular. I like to read. I like to be outside. I like school, as dorky as that is." He spared a small smile with that comment. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

So Denver was modest, Blaire noted with a grin. Nothing spectacular at Quidditch, eh? Blaire had to suppress a snort. Denver was one of the more gifted members of the Meriwether team. Blaire wasn't much for organized sports. Too...social. Too much bonding. However, Blaire was hardly adverse to being in shape. Thus, the gym visits. And the jogging around the track field in the early mornings.

Blaire was still faintly surprised at his own ability to speak, much less joke, with a complete stranger. He could not deny Denver's natural, if uncanny, ability to strike up conversation with the even quietest of folk. But it wasn't like they were becoming best friends or anything, he mused. They were just...talking. Blaire smiled to himself. For Blaire, talking might as well be making a new best friend.

Not to be rude, Blaire reminded himself that he did like Denver, as far as liking people went. He was much like himself, only more social, and that was uncommon, not unwelcome. But Blaire didn't make friends. He memorized faces, OCCASIONALLY talked to people, and ever rarer, "hung out" with people who shared similar interests. He was the antisocial loner, and although he possessed the necessary socializing abilities, he felt no need to go out and make himself known to the world.

Blaire felt a slightly sarcastic reply rising to his lips before he could stop it. "Very ordinary." He felt himself smiling. "So normal, in fact, I fear your death from habitual averageness." He shook his head. "There is more to you then that, Denver. If we are to be roommates, perhaps you'll find it in our best interest to be a bit more elaborate."This last part, though not unkind, was said in seriousness. Denver had been right; now was the time to get to know each other.

Denver watched as a spark entered Blaire's intelligent eyes, and knew that the sarcastic, but still light, comment would leave his lips. He seemed to be that snarky kind of person, who was not mean-spirited, but did not really care what other people thought. He seemed to be one of those people who did not know anything other than isolation, and did not really care to change that. He was nothing if not consistent, Denver decided--until Blaire made a conscious effort to actually steer the conversation to the purpose of legitimately trying to get to know each other.

"There is more to you then that, Denver. If we are to be roommates, perhaps you'll find it in our best interest to be a bit more elaborate."

The comment itself could be easily construed as cold, but Denver did not take offense. Blaire certainly did have a point; if they were to be roommates, they would have to get to know each other at far more than a superficial level, especially due to the personalities of the two. Neither would be completely satisfied with idle, meaningless chitchat.

"Hm... I don't exactly know how to elaborate on what I like to do. I'm a dabbler, and I don't really have any specific areas which I am more interested in others. Besides, elaboration goes both ways." He did not say it rudely, but more in a matter-of-fact manner.

Blaire shrugged. Denver had a point. "Touche." (I can't find the accent mark, sorry Kat!) He shrugged. He dabbled as well, but there was no point in just agreeing with Denver. He did want the conversation to go somewhere, instead of dieing. He pursed his lips. What to say?

"There isn't much to say." He noted aloud. "I am a rather simple person. I have no idea what I am going to do with my life. I don't have hobbies. I come from Chicago (idk if that's in his profile but it's true now). I have no siblings. Mum's a muggle, dad's a wizard. I'm Irish. I can hold my liqueur. I enjoy learning defensive spells. I have been told I am talented at what I do. Idiocy annoys me. I read in my free time." He shrugged. "I don't know what else to say."

It was quiet for a moment, but it was far from uncomfortable. He broke it though, turning and asking, "What about you?"

Blaire spoke of himself in a very matter-of-fact way, but Denver found the things he chose to share interesting. Some of it was basic information, such as his home state and his parents' backgrounds. However, something about the way he spoke of himself, as if he would rather not be saying anything at all, was intriguing. Denver knew a lot of people over the years, and no matter how humble a person pretended to be, almost everyone he knew secretly enjoyed talking when matters turned to themselves. This did not seem to be true, exactly, with Blaire. It was very interesting.

Then, it was his turn to speak.

"Let's see... There's not a ton to say about me, either. My parents were both muggles. Politicians from a middle-of-nowhere town in Kansas. I was born in Boston. Where alcohol is concerned, I have no idea--my parents expected me to be the perfect campaign trail child, so drinking is absolutely out of the question, or the media would have a field day. The idea never really appealed to me much, anyway. I tend more towards offensive magic, although my real strength is transfiguration. I also have no siblings. I don't know what I want to do with my life, either. My parents want me to follow in their footsteps, but I can tell you right now that with the whole magic thing, that's not going to work out." Denver stopped, deciding that that was enough information, for the time being. He would let Blaire make of it whatever he wanted.

Blaire nodded. He felt for Denver; having parent's such as his was probably hell as a child. Not that his childhood was much better, his mind drifting to the tattoo on his right shoulder blade. It was faded, nearly 7 years old now, but it would always be a reminder of his history with the Panthers. The Panthers. Their name had been ironic, considering his endowment. Running with them had been his biggest mistake, and he knew it. And he payed the price for it, he thought, thinking about the small scar under his ink. He mentally shook himself from his reverie. That had been a long time ago, he mused.

They drifted into silence again, Blaire lost in his thoughts. Denver was the poster child, more than his parents ever knew. He wondered how they would react if they knew who his son's roommate was. The thought made him smile.

"I suppose now is where we share childhood stories?" He said dryly, though his tone was light. Hmm, what other things could he say? He could share the fact that he was endowed. But that seemed a bit too personal for first day introductions. 'Hey, by the way, I can shape shift into a Panther." Yeah. A bit too personal. Butt... Blaire stifled a smile. "Do you happen to be allergic to cats?" He asked casually, a smile flitting across his face.

Blaire started out talking as if he was going to prolong the conversation about childhood that neither of them wanted to delve into, but he broke up his own question with a seemingly random question. From Blaire's face, though, Denver could tell the significance. He actually cracked a smile, which made Denver suspect that it was somewhat of an inside joke with himself. Denver knew he had to figure out the significance of it, but he had plenty of time to do it. He certainly was in no rush, as he has an entire year of rooming with Blaire to figure these things out.

"Nope, not that I know of." Denver considered going on to say that he didn't really know, because his parents never let him keep pets, since they were always on the move. However, he did not really see the need to say that. It wasn't necessary, and he did not want to give away much in the way of personal information that he did not have to. In Denver's case, less was always more. He had already shared much more than he usually did with people, as Blaire knew now about his parents. Some people knew, due to having lived in campaign zones, but most people did not really say anything. Denver was the golden boy in his own right, whether they liked it or not. He did not need his parents' power and money to be well-liked.

"Why, just out of curiosity?" He asked, an unassuming and open expression on his face. It was an expression that could get information out of nearly anybody, but Denver did not use it for this purpose against Blaire. He did not expect to get anything from it. He was genuinely curious, and if Blaire told him, then that was that.

Blaire shrugged, having no intention of telling Denver himself. In fact, he was rather considering the fact of leaving clues and letting Denver figure it out himself. The boy was certainly intellectual, and appeared to like a challenge. It also gave Blaire something to think about; he would have to be careful. He couldn't be too obvious that he was dropping hints, but he couldn't make it too hard either. Perfect balance.

Blaire realized at this point how crazy he seemed. Taking enjoyment in laying clues for his roommate to figure out his biggest secret? Definitely crazy. He grinned to himself, again, and shook his hair out of his face. He fingered his panther necklace, as he responded. "Not really..." he said nonchalantly, all the while eying Denver's face. Catch the silver, note it's importance. He chanted to himself, wondering if Denver would catch on. If he knew anything about the boy from the past 15 minutes, he would catch on. And eventually, he would figure it out.

And he would probably know the sharing was intentional. But Blaire found it fun, and a challenge, and so he began to plot, his eyes never straying from Noah's face.

"Not really..."

Blaire said it in a very even, measured manner, but Denver could tell from the look in his eyes that there was a reason. Blaire's eyes searched Denver's face, and Denver met his gaze. However, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Blaire was holding something. He saw a flash of silver through his fingers, and focusing in, saw that it was a necklace shaped like what appeared to be one of the large jungle cats--if Denver had to hazard a guess, he would say that it looked like a panther. Obviously, it was very important to Blaire, and obviously, it was completely related to the situation. The look in Blaire's eyes and the topic of conversation leading up to his noticing the necklace only indicated that it was very, very important, for some odd reason. It was going to be his task to figure out what that reason was.

Denver really had very little information, at this point. Apparently, Blaire had some sort of link to panthers--his question of whether Denver was allergic to cats seemed to be key to the situation. However, SAS rules pretty much banned Blaire from bringing pets in, and it was very unlikely that the necklace had any sort of magic that was hiding a real panther. While it was possible, that was very, very advanced magic, and although Blaire really was very intelligent, and good at magic, Denver doubted that that was it. It would be far too easy to get caught.

Denver thought a bit more. Then, something finally occurred to him--they were Meriwether students. Meriwether was known for having a strong connection to animals. "How strong is your endowment?" he asked Blaire, curiosity getting the better of him.

Oh. Blaire blinked, once, twice. Well that was...fast. He resisted pouting, his source of fun being taken away from him almost instantaneously. Damn Denver, along with his blasted brains. Still, he had a chance to save himself. He stood, his mind already coming up with ten plus options or variations to lead the topic away from it's current subject and evade the game over that seemed so prominent. (whew, say that five times fast)

Just as he was opening his mouth to answer, there came a voice from, apparently, the ceiling. "Mr. Sabian, Mr. Ellington?" A witches voice reverberated around the room, and though no such person was in sight, the sound was crystal clear. Blaire shot Denver a look, and Blaire cleared his throat.

"Yes?" He asked, his eyes still directed at the ceiling.

"You both have been requested at the headmaster's office. Immediately." Blaire shot Denver a look, as the voice clicked off. He raised his eyebrows, and shot Denver a questioning glance as he headed for the door. Perhaps they had realized the two most powerful students in their grade were now rooming together, and wanted to make sure nothing had been destroyed. That would be amusing...but that wouldn't warrant a Headmaster's visit.

Blaire clearly has as little idea of what was going on as Denver did, which Denver found oddly reassuring. It wasn't that he liked that they both were going in blind, without any knowledge of what they were going to face. That bothered him a substantial amount. However, neither of the two students was the type to cause trouble or get in trouble, so reason dictated that the visit had some other motive. It wasn't disciplinary.

Denver walked towards the Karim Hassan's office, not knowing what he had in mind. Hassan was a calm and composed kind of person, more inwardly focused than most people Denver had met along his travels. It was often hard to read what was going on in his head, so Denver expected very little information to get through in that manner. He was just going to have to wait and see what this was all about. Maybe he had some sort of job for them? They were the two brightest students in the grade, and it would make sense that if something was needed, that they would be chosen. He debated running his thoughts by Blaire, but by the time he made his mind up, they were already at the door of the office.

"You ready?" Denver asked Blaire.

Blaire shrugged, tilting his head at the other boy. "Whenever you are." He offered a small, wry smile but it held no humor. Very few people were called up into the headmaster's office. It was a rare occurrence, even rarer that the event turned out to be simply casual. Blaire wasn't daunted, however. The Headmaster was hardly a scary figure, though somewhat intimidating in terms of power. His eyes held a certain knowledge in them that threw Blaire off.

Before Blaire had a chance to open the door, the door swung open silently. Blaire blinked, and peered into the darkness, wrinkling his eyebrows. The room was well lit, which was reassuring. It looked much the same as it had the last time Blaire had been inside. Hassan's desk was directly opposite of the door, with Hassan sitting behind it in a plush-looking chair. The room itself was small, but Blaire had no doubt that there were secret passages and doors leading to an expansion. The actual office was simple. One bookshelf, narrow and reaching to the ceiling. Two wooden chairs, placed in front of the desk, opposite of Hassan. One wall covered with Salem Academy memorabilia, including posters and trophies. Then, of course, was the desk, which was a massive yet beautiful piece. Made of rich mahogany and dark ebony, the desk was hardly new but kept in pristine condition. Clutter on the desk was minimal, consisting of only one of two stacks of paper, some quills and ink, and several magical artifacts.

Blaire took note of all of this in a second, before returning his gaze to the Headmaster. He smiled wryly at them, beckoning them to sit in the chairs before him. They did so.

"Now boys," He strted, his voice soft and warm. "I don't expect you would like to sit through pleasantries, as pleasant as they may be, so I shall get right to the point." He smiled again, and Blaire's attention perked.

"Denver, Blaire," He began, gesturing at the boys, "We have a rather special project for you two this year."

"Denver, Blaire, we have a rather special project for you two this year."

Denver was not surprised. He was summoned into Hassan's office, without having done anything wrong, so the only logical solution was that Hassan wanted something from the two of them. He was not surprised, either, that Hassan was so blunt about it. Obviously, it was something very important, but something that the teachers and older students either could not do or did not have the time for. At this point, Denver couldn't quite tell which it was. He figured Hassan would explain it, though. All in good time.

"As you both know," the headmaster continued, "There has been a rising problem in our area with muggles hunting witches and wizards."

Denver blinked, now finally understanding where this conversation was going. It was not going into good territory. Witch hunters were bad news. They were dangerous. Denver suspected that this was even out of Blaire and his league. However, he didn't interrupt, focusing on what Hassan was saying.

"We have lost many good wizards and witches to these muggles. They are ignoring the attempts wizardkind is making to build good relationships, despite our long past of feuding." He paused, looking at Denver and Blaire to assess their reactions thus far.