Shelliness!! -Brodie?-

[remy]

Remy sat in an empty classroom, cross-legged on a desk. He was staring at a wall intently, with fascination. Every crack in the stone was beautiful. Every stain, every shade, every delicate and small detail. He was entranced by the utter magnificence of that plain stone wall. Nothing could be more beautiful to him...at least not now. It was, in fact, part of Hogwarts, the school he adored. And being able to start his final year was bliss to him. With minor work, and much help from the Order, he was a wizard able to claim that he was related to a long pure bloodline. The musician couldn't be any happier as he smiled softly at that delicate wall.

He had picked his favorite empty classroom, so very close to the grounds. He used to spend hours alone in that room, writing music, playing,, living. It felt so refreshing to be back. Every part of that room was that much more amazing, inspiring. For the first time in what seemed hours, he ripped his eyes away from the wall. They landed instead on the beautiful acoustic leaning against said wall, elegantly resting before yet another long night of music. Thankfully, no one ever thought to check the ground floor for roaming students. Not that room, anyway. Who would spend their evening in an abandoned, empty classroom? "You ready, Shelly?" he whispered softly and happily, talking to the acoustic he had named when he first bought her, more than ten years ago. He smiled contently, staring longingly at it. His inspiration soared. Time was approaching fast, the time he could finally create echoing melodies again in his beloved room.

[Brodie Thompson]

Brodie wandered the halls aimlessly. Quidditch practice had been cancelled for that afternoon because of the thunderstorm that was rolling through the grounds, so Brodie had been left alone wiht nothing to do. Of course, he could have done his asignments that were already starting to pile up. But then again, there was really no fun in that. And after all, it wasn't like he needed potions or transfiguration for what he wasnted to do after school. So really, what was the point in trying.

As Brodie slowly made his rounds of the school, he passed one of the old empty classrooms. Pushing the door in he could see a boy sitting on one of the desks cross legged holding an acustic guitar. Hands in his pockets, Brodie walked into the classroom and over to the window which he looked out hoping to find something midly entertaining. "Hope no one catches you with that," Brodie said casually over his shoulder as he passed the boy. He wasn't at all sure if the boy sitting on the desk had actually heard him or not, but he would soon find out.

[remy]

Within the hour, he had hopped off the desk, grabbed his guitar, taken it back to the desk, sat cross-legged indian style and set the guitar on his thigh, as close to his body as he could bring it. He had layed a thick blank paged notebook next to him and had scribbled every so often in it. He had been playing melodiously, careful to strum the strings of the old guitar delicately, and able to caress music into the midnight air. A ghost of a smile remained on his face as he wrote, and played, and wrote, and played some more. Finally, he felt at peace with the world, at constant rhythm with himself. His heart ceased to beat with an acceleration too painful to deal with. It now thumped at a normal speed, one that actually let him breathe. He could sing again without sounding like his heart was cracked. He could truly live in that little classroom, his sanctuary. He didn't really know what he would do without coming back at least once.

The moment he stopped playing, the door opened. Remy's breath caught in his throat, and he looked up fearfully. shit, he thought to himself. Shit, shit, shit...not a professor...please let it not be a professor. He was in luck. Not a professor, but a boy, possibly his age, strode into the room, almost as if he owned the place. Remy blinked in surprise, his eyes following him as he walked to the window. "Uh," he hesitated, a frown clear on his face, "Is there something against guitars now too?" His deep voice was marked with annoyance. being interrupted when in the middle of an inspirational streak was not something he enjoyed. Who the hell was this kid anyway?

[Brodie Thompson]

Brodie's gaze travelled around the room and finally fell back on the boy, who now that Brodie could see him celarly looked to be close to his age. Though Brodie never had been good at guessing ages, that was more something he left for his twin to do. Sizing him up, brodie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall tiliting his head as if trying to judge the character of the boy sitting across the room. "Well kind of I'd guess. Basically everything from outside the school has been banned." Brodie paused and walked over to the boy, standing in front of him.

"Guitars are seen as something I mudblood would have. And you wouldn't want the school or the new headmaster to think you were a mudblood now would you?" Brodie paused smirking deviously. "I'm Brodie by the way," he said his eyes holding the other boys, showing no fear, or any emotions for that matter.

[remy]

Remy tilted his head to the side in confusion. Everything from outside the school? Well, that meant...every personal belonging, didn't it? How stupid. "I didn't know that," he said quietly. He looked down at his guitar sadly, his fingers stroking the fine wood delicately. How could people ban music? Instruments? Without a melody, a tune, there were no feelings in the world. Everything was made up of music. How could he possibly be deprived of his guitar? "Maybe you're wrong. That would be stupid, banning guitars. It's like banning a quill for a writer, or...banning charcoal for a sketchist. Or a broom from a quidditch player." He glanced at the boy and lifted his eyebrows. Surely he would understand that he couldn't be parted from his guitar. Then realization came over him...he did know who this boy was. Rune...from his year...right? Yet somehow...he looked different.

A wave of anger ran through him suddenly. He glared at the boy, feeling sick at the choice of his words. This was obviously one from their side, someone Remy didn't even want even bother talking with. But he was there, and he was speaking, and worst still, Remy couldn't keep from retorting. "There is nothing wrong with guitars, and there is nothing wrong with muggleborns," he answered sternly. He hopped off the desk and went to his guitar case, setting the instrument gently inside, then closing it firmly. He didn't have to stay. He didn't have to hear this stupid boy, and his stupid remarks. Remy glanced at him as he spoke. So he wasn't Rune. Of course not, seeing as the fellow Ravenclaw would never call someone a mudblood...he didn't think. "Remy," he answered, out of sheer politeness.

[Brodie Thompson]

Brodie rolled his eyes in annoyance at the boys words, how could he be so ignorant of the new rules? The Headmaster would not be impressed if he saw a normal non magical guitar lying around. It was like promoting muggle borns within the school and since Harry Potters death, everyone knew that those muggle items were banned. Was this boy really that out of it to realize that? "No, you see that's were you're wrong. They don't use quills in the muggle world. They use pen and pencils. And as for a broom for quidditch. I might be wrong, but the last time I checked the muggles didn't know how to fly a broom let alone believe one could be used for that purpose." Brodie shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants. "A guitar with no maigcal powers is just that. A guitar, promoting the muggle world. Which I'm sure you're aware is not allowed anywhere near here anymore." Brodie let his eyes travel over the boy sizing him up trying to figure out exactly who he was.

Brodie's eyes widened with shock at the boys response to him saying mudblood. "There is everything wrong with both of them!" Brodie spat back at the boy as he turned his back to him. "And if I were you and you were smarter, you'd change your attitude or it is going to get you killed." Brodie paused glaring at the boy. "Unless you are one of them," He said softly under his breath alarm bells ringing in his head.

How could he have gotten into the school though? Brodie wondered watching the boy pack his guitar away. And how can I test if he's a pureblood or not? Should I let the headmaster know regardless that there is a muggle lover in the school who needs to be dealt with? Or should I just take care of him myself. No one would care... Brodie's thoughts wandered but his attention snapped back as the boy said his name. It was familiar but he didn't know from where or why. "And where do you think you're going in such a hurry Remy?" Brodie asked going over and swinging an arm around Remy's shoulders. "We aren't done talking"

[remy]

His look of shock turned into a glare. Was this boy stupid? An instrument was only made magical with the right charms. Which Remy had put onto his guitar. Obviously. Remy didn't mind muggles, but he DID prefer magically enhanced sound. "You're obviously not aware. I have in my hands a Gibson, and in this Gibson I have charmed the inner core so that the sound travels faster and louder, and I have charmed the strings so that the guitar can never go out of tune. That is as magical as an acoustic can get. It is not banned. With the proper charms, you can make anything magical. Like a broom. You don't just ride any old broomstick. You obviously don't know anything about it."

He glared in anger. Heat rose to his face as he stood protectively in front of his Shelly. No one would part him from his guitar. No one. "There is nothing wrong with guitars. You're just stupid." He didn't say anything more about muggleborns. He had to be careful, Adri had told him. He had to pretend to be one of the haters. "You know what? It is none of your business. Obviously I'm not one of them, or I wouldn't be here. I'd be dead. I was just brought up differently then you do. So mind your own business."

He stopped dead in his tracks. He winced at the poison Brodie said his name with. Remy glanced at him, fear shadowing his face. He wasn't a bad bluffer, but if he wasn't going to be let go...by this avid hater...then he was in danger. "I'm done. I have nothing more to say to you. And I have nothing more to hear."