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**Wilber Winterbottom** · 12-25-2022, 11:44 PM

The Three Broomsticks is the most well-known pub in the small village, which is why it is often rather crowded with students and adults alike. The outside of the building is a good preview of what the inside may look like with the same steep roof as the surrounding buildings with a sign featuring the legendary three broomsticks, all fixed around a lantern to light the patrons' way. It certainly looks better kept than the Hog's Head down the street.

Once you enter the pub, the warmth of the large stone fireplace great you as you place hats and coats by the door. Directly in front of you there are tables and booths lining the majority of the small hall with oil lamps placed on each one. On winter days it is usually hard to find a place beside the large fire grate; however, if you're early enough, you can bet your galleons that you'll be nice and toasty by the fire. To the left is the bar where the bartender waits to take your order.

Text Cut: Menu & Prices

Beverages: one free refill

* Butterbeer - 5 sickles
* Firewhiskey (must be of age) – 10 sickles
* Pumpkin Juice - 3 knuts
* Hot Cocoa – 5 knuts
Entrees

* Shepherd's Pie – 2 galleons
* Fish and Chips - 2 galleons, 3 sickles
* Chicken Noodle Soup – 1 galleon, 3 knuts
* Turkey Sandwich (cold or grilled) - 1 galleon
With cheese - 1 galleon, 2 sickles
* Cheese Sandwich (cold or grilled) - 1 galleon
* Ham Sandwich (cold or grilled) - 1 galleon
With cheese - 1 galleon, 2 sickles
* Tomato Soup - 16 sickles
* Macaroni and Cheese – 1 galleon, 3 sickles
Sides

* Mixed vegetables – 5 sickles
* Salad - 16 sickles
* Glazed carrots – 8 sickles
* Mashed potatoes with assorted condiments (serves 2-4) – 2 galleons
* Garlic bread
Slice -- 4 sickles
Loaf (serves 4-6) 1 galleon
* Sliced Seasonal Fruit
One Serving – 7 sickles
Group Serving (serves 3-5) 2 galleons
Desserts

* Strawberry Shortcake – 9 sickles per slice
* Cookies (2)
Chocolate Chip - 9 sickles
Raisin – 6 sickles
Sugar – 8 sickles
* Brownies
One Brownie – 9 sickles
Two Brownies – 1 galleon
* Assorted Fruit (with chocolate for dipping) (serves two) – 1 galleon

sweetpinkpixie · 11-15-2025, 02:25 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by WhittyBitty

It had been a rather eventful day so far, full of browsing and shopping. Aurora loved coming to Hogsmeade and always liked to make the most of the visits, shopping and spending time with her friends. It was a good way to get her mind off of things and also served as a nice break from all the studying she had to do for her OWLs.

Feeling hungry, she had decided to stop by the Three Broomsticks and get something to eat. She had hoped to see some of her friends, but couldn’t find any so she sat at a booth all by herself to eat her lunch. It would be nice to have some company, but as it was she was fine taking out a magazine and looking at it as she ate. It was nice to read something that wasn’t a textbook for a change.

Nyle had no idea how Iris could possibly read this much. Actually...he did, so the more accurate thought was how she could buy this much in one afternoon. He was fairly certain Tomes and Scrolls had made enough that they could close early for the day if they wanted to. By the time she’d finished 'just a quick browse,' his arms had become stacked with enough books to refurbish a small library. Still, he trailed after her without complaint. It was familiar, grounding—watching her debate between two equally intimidating tomes while he shifted the weight of the growing tower in his arms and tried to look useful. When she finally waved him off with a distracted, I’ll meet you later, he took it as both mercy and a direct order to put the books in her mokeskin pouch and find another way to occupy his time.

Food, for sure food - was he starving.

He slipped into the Three Broomsticks, rubbing feeling back into his hands, and scanned for the quickest spot to collapse into. That was when he caught a familiar flash of fireseed hair in one of the booths: Aurora, half-hidden behind a magazine, alone but looking perfectly content in the quiet. Nyle hesitated only a second before wandering over, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Uh...hey," he smiled, his voice warm but a little winded. "Mind if I sit? Iris had me working as her packmule I’m not entirely sure I can make it to another table."

WhittyBitty · 11-18-2025, 02:34 AM

Hearing a familiar voice, Aurora set down her copy of Witch Weekly, and brightened immediately. ”Hey, Nyle!” The magazine had been nice, but it was a lot better to have his company. He seemed to be in a better mood today, and she was really happy to see it. He deserved nothing less than to be happy all the time. And he had been dealing with so much since the end of last term. ”You’re always welcome to join me. You don’t even need to ask.” She smiled.

So he had been made a packmule. Yep. That sounded like something Iris would do. ”So did she buy half of Tomes and Scrolls then?” Aurora could be quite the reader, especially these days with all the studying she needed to do, but she didn’t know anyone who read like Iris. It was honestly impressive. And she was sure that the people working at Tomes and Scrolls were always very happy whenever she shopped there.

sweetpinkpixie · 11-27-2025, 12:28 PM

Nyle let out a quiet huff of laughter as he slid into the seat across from her. Slid was, perhaps, too generous a term since what he did was more akin to wilting into it like a drought-stricken fern finally given shade. In either case, he certainly grateful to let his shoulders uncoil for what felt like the first time all day.

"Half?" he echoed, breathlessly amused. "It felt more like… three quarters." He tipped his head back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a moment in pure relief. Would it be the worst thing if he were to take a nap right here? "I’m almost tempted to believe she’s single-handedly keeping the establishment in business."

It was a joke, but also... not. Iris devoured books the way other people breathed. It wasn't too surprising since they'd grown up with that kind of hunger for words through mum and dad both, though in different ways. Dad read like it was a ritual, a grounding, a way to understand the world while mum wrote like she was trying to etch the truth of it into existence. A published poet, several collections out already, with her newest set to appear in anthologies people actually studied. Iris has inherited both these passions, leaving Nyle with a different set of passions and interest - as if both their parents had been neatly sorted and divided.

"What did you get? It looks good." He hadn't given his own lunch much consideration, but his stomach left no doubt that he was positively famished.

FearlessLeader19 · 05-23-2026, 06:00 PM

Jan was coming to visit him today, Jan was coming to meet him today!

The words kept repeating in his head exactly like a mantra as he bounced his way towards The Three Broomsticks. He would have loved to bring Paully and Nessy along but Iddy was being greedy: he wanted his older brother all to himself.

On this fine wintery day, the Gryffindor had opted for some shenanigans - he was in disguise. The Muggle kind, not magical via human transformation.

You read that right! Idris Ace Grunt was a ~~Transformer~~ Lion in disguise!

The reason? Only because he felt like it, not because he was trying to see if Jan could easily identify him still. Or was it?

Anyway, the disguise? Instead of his usual flouffy afro, his hair was braided into neat zigzaggy cornrows. He had opted for one of those glasses with false eyelashes, mustache and nose attached, the nose blending quite lovely with his complexion.

After ordering two butterbeers, the disguised Idris took a seat at an empty table. He did his best to look as natural as possible and as though he were about to consume two mugs of butterbeer.

Have fun finding him, Jan!

Charely Potter · 05-23-2026, 11:19 PM

SPOILER!!: Not so Little Yellow Lion Hood

Jan was looking forward to seeing his oldest younger brother, Idris! It had been two years since he had brotherly Hogsmeade time. The time passing boggled this twenty-year-old's mind. Though they had naturally spent time with each other during summers and the occasional important Quidditch matches when they fell on a weekend. Idris eventually gave word that he'd be waiting in the Three Broomsticks, so here Jan was. After removing the sunglasses and his scarf from the chilling weather, he went to scope them out.

Turns out, Idris wasn't the only one who changed their usual look. Jan's hair was loced in a updo braided ponytail. The sides were shaven though with a fade. There was little reason for Jan to have his long hair down and flowing when the high winds did more than his usual bonnets can maintain. Anyhoo, he looked around. The floofy hair wasn't present, but something else stood out to him... the height. Yes, Jan knew Idris had grown but goodness, was he taller than him and their Firther now? Unfair. Also... who else would try to disguise themselves and have two butterbeers untouched in front of them? But it's okay, Jan could play coy for a bit.

Walking over, he gave the senior student a gentle tap on their shoulder, keeping a straight face as he saw the exaggerated nose with glasses. "Excuse me, have you seen someone who looks like me but used to be shorter and answers to the name Idris or Iddy?" Jan asked. "He has an older brother who terribly misses him and has a little gift to give." Now how long would this play out?

*squidnie* · 05-24-2026, 03:36 AM

Her first Hogsmeade trip! Cat had a Honeydukes bag hanging from her arm as she entered the Three Broomsticks. She already knew what she wanted. She’d heard all about it and had yet to try. Butterbeer.

Also, a brownie. Because she deserved a treat.

After getting her food, Cat chose a table near the wall so that she could people watch. And, she would be happy to report, her butterbeer was delicious.

sweetpinkpixie · 05-26-2026, 07:29 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by squidnie

Her first Hogsmeade trip! Cat had a Honeydukes bag hanging from her arm as she entered the Three Broomsticks. She already knew what she wanted. She’d heard all about it and had yet to try. Butterbeer.

Also, a brownie. Because she deserved a treat.

After getting her food, Cat chose a table near the wall so that she could people watch. And, she would be happy to report, her butterbeer was delicious.

The door to the Three Broomsticks burst open hard enough to let in a swirl of cold air and one visibly windblown Gryffindor. CJ stumbled inside mid-shiver, shoulders hunched up around his ears while he tried unsuccessfully to untangle himself from his scarf while his beanie sat low on his head with his hair sticking out at all sorts of odd angles.

"And I thought New York winters knew how to throw hands," he informed absolutely no one while nudging the door shut behind him with his butt.

But yet the second warmth and the smell of food hit him, the suffering vanished instantly from his face. Oh, this place smelled GOOD. His stomach apparently agreed loud enough to nearly qualify as public speaking. All those rumors and hearsay from his friends back home about the food over here being atrocious were obviously exaggerations.

"Easy, big guy," he muttered to his stomach, rubbing it as he wove through the crowd inside towards the counter.

Speaking of exaggerations, he was one personified since apparently the answer to 'What do you want?' was 'yes'.

By the time he turned away, he was balancing an alarming amount of food in both hands — a bowl of tomato soup, a grilled ham and cheese sandwich (for dipping into the soup, obviously), a slice of strawberry shortcake he probably did not need but spiritually required, and an aggressively foamy butterbeer sloshing dangerously near the rim.

Which meant he didn't notice her immediately (read: at all). Not until he turned too fast and caught sight of familiar blonde (like a lemon!) hair near the wall.

"LEMONDROP—!"

The greeting came out so suddenly and enthusiastically that the butterbeer betrayed him instantly. Foam sloshed over the side and CJ jerked sideways trying to save it, which only made the whole tray wobble too, resulting in a frantic sequence of corrections that looked less like balance and more like interpretive dance.

But hey, those Seeker reflexes, amiright?

A nearby warlock nearly suffered for the cause ― dangerously close to having a lapful of tomato soup. Instead, he imparted the third year with a series of very CHOICE words which, thankfully, the brunette buffoon couldn't entirely understand due to the thick accent.

He froze there afterward breathing hard, staring down at the tray like he'd just caught the snitch in the final match of the Quidditch World Cup.

Then he looked up at Cat with wide-eyed sincerity. "Pretty awesome, right?" The recovery, that is. And himself adjacently. "Also, please tell me tha all that was worth it because I keep hearing about how this butterbeer stuff and how it reinvigorates you more than the Draught of Ephemera ever could for a ghost."

Only then did it click for him that he MIGHT not be meeting Lemondrop today. The girl whose table he was approaching and moving like he was going to slide into the vacant chair across from her might be Acid Pop today.

Which, in fairness, felt like important emotional weather to clock before committing to the chair buuuuuuuut, too late now.

FearlessLeader19 · 05-26-2026, 02:44 PM

SPOILER!!: Ah who dis handsome fella? <3

Idris had raised his mug to his mouth, the rim barely touching his lips when the eyes that had been so eagerly searching for his brother’s appearance. And when he found it already surveying him, he just managed to suppress an excited squeak. Id couldn’t help but reflect on what a dashing young man Jan had become. Not to say that he hadn't always been good looking. It was definitely not just due to that hairdo - which Id might be stealing one day soon. Seeing the older brother, the Gryffindor realised he still was sad about not seeing him often as he had while they were at Hogwarts together. But the sadness wasn’t as bad as before; it outweighed the satisfaction of watching Jan be a rising star in the Quidditch world.

Act casual, Iddy, he told himself when out of his peripheral vision he saw Jan began his approach. He took that delayed sip of butterbeer. And there was the tap on his shoulder in the form of a greeting. Id longed to fling the butterbeer away {Jordan Howlett style

}and throw himself at Jan but… nope. He’d see how this played out first. There would be plenty of time for hugging the older Grunt.

Gift?

Iddy’s ears perked up in true cat-like fashion

“Arrr, I can’t be sayin’ that I have, matey.” Needless to say the pirate talk did not go along with his disguise; the words had just popped out of his mouth. “Be this Iddy as handsome as ye be? An’ what be this present ye speak of?”

The seventh year wasn’t quite sure how long he could keep this charade up. The urge to throw himself at Jan was stronger.

*squidnie* · 05-28-2026, 02:29 AM

Text Cut: Hurricane CJ

Quote:

Originally Posted by sweetpinkpixie

The door to the Three Broomsticks burst open hard enough to let in a swirl of cold air and one visibly windblown Gryffindor. CJ stumbled inside mid-shiver, shoulders hunched up around his ears while he tried unsuccessfully to untangle himself from his scarf while his beanie sat low on his head with his hair sticking out at all sorts of odd angles.

"And I thought New York winters knew how to throw hands," he informed absolutely no one while nudging the door shut behind him with his butt.

But yet the second warmth and the smell of food hit him, the suffering vanished instantly from his face. Oh, this place smelled GOOD. His stomach apparently agreed loud enough to nearly qualify as public speaking. All those rumors and hearsay from his friends back home about the food over here being atrocious were obviously exaggerations.

"Easy, big guy," he muttered to his stomach, rubbing it as he wove through the crowd inside towards the counter.

Speaking of exaggerations, he was one personified since apparently the answer to 'What do you want?' was 'yes'.

By the time he turned away, he was balancing an alarming amount of food in both hands — a bowl of tomato soup, a grilled ham and cheese sandwich (for dipping into the soup, obviously), a slice of strawberry shortcake he probably did not need but spiritually required, and an aggressively foamy butterbeer sloshing dangerously near the rim.

Which meant he didn't notice her immediately (read: at all). Not until he turned too fast and caught sight of familiar blonde (like a lemon!) hair near the wall.

"LEMONDROP—!"

The greeting came out so suddenly and enthusiastically that the butterbeer betrayed him instantly. Foam sloshed over the side and CJ jerked sideways trying to save it, which only made the whole tray wobble too, resulting in a frantic sequence of corrections that looked less like balance and more like interpretive dance.

But hey, those Seeker reflexes, amiright?

A nearby warlock nearly suffered for the cause ― dangerously close to having a lapful of tomato soup. Instead, he imparted the third year with a series of very CHOICE words which, thankfully, the brunette buffoon couldn't entirely understand due to the thick accent.

He froze there afterward breathing hard, staring down at the tray like he'd just caught the snitch in the final match of the Quidditch World Cup.

Then he looked up at Cat with wide-eyed sincerity. "Pretty awesome, right?" The recovery, that is. And himself adjacently. "Also, please tell me tha all that was worth it because I keep hearing about how this butterbeer stuff and how it reinvigorates you more than the Draught of Ephemera ever could for a ghost."

Only then did it click for him that he MIGHT not be meeting Lemondrop today. The girl whose table he was approaching and moving like he was going to slide into the vacant chair across from her might be Acid Pop today.

Which, in fairness, felt like important emotional weather to clock before committing to the chair buuuuuuuut, too late now.

Cat did, of course, witness the whole thing.

She saw the boy enter the pub, saw him order every single thing on the menu, then she watched him almost dump every last menu item on an older man who really ought to consider his audience when choosing his words.

Not that she felt that better word choice would temper Hurricane CJ. Rather, Cat was fairly certain that the Gryffindor Troll would continue over everything in his path out of sheer force of wheel and or dumb luck.

Terminal obtuseness. She hadn’t forgotten about that. And she was beginning to think that it was a skill rather than a hindrance at this point. She was, begrudgingly perhaps, becoming impressed by the boy’s ability to create a metaphorical earthquake in just about any room he entered.

He was also, it seemed to her, the only person who perhaps spoke more than she did once prompted. And maybe it was the shock, but she found it hard to form words in his general vicinity.

It was most certainly not the dark, curly hair. Or the wide, deep brown eyes. And it was definitely not the way his mouth turned up like that on one side but not the other.

“Terminal obtuseness,” she reminded herself in a mumble before the boy in question bombarded her. She blinked in response to his verbal onslaught. Then veeeeery slowly, veeeeeeeeeeery deliberately, sipped her butterbeer.

“The Draught of Ephemera doesn’t reinvigorate ghosts,” she informed him. “It uses a human catalyst. So, if anything, I’d say that it drains other resources and allows the ghost to use them rather than breathing life and energy into the ghost itself.” Was that his point? No, and Cat was fully aware of that. It’s just that he brought out her argumentative side for some reason.

“But,” she added, “The butterbeer is very good, yes.”

sweetpinkpixie · 05-29-2026, 01:11 AM

Text Cut: what a delightfully fitting nickname!

CJ's eyebrows shot up so fast they disappeared beneath the edge of his beanie.

"Terminal what-now?"

Terminal as in...airport terminal? Had she named the table and merely announcing his arrival? Actually, yeah. That checked out. Also reminded him of the games dad and mom used to play to try and get him to sit at the dinner table and STAY there. His toddler phase fascination with airplanes had been a lot of fun.

"Wait, no way, that's a real thing?! I just thought it was some funny little phrase thrown around for laughs. Not a real bonafide brew someone could make!"

And since CJ was arriving at Terminal Whatever-she-had-just-said...

The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor as he finally fully committed to sitting across from her, carefully lowering his tray like someone disarming an explosive device in one of those epic spy thrillers. Which, given the amount of soup AND butterbeer involved, honestly tracked.

Meanwhile she started explaining ghost theory AT him and CJ listened with the intense concentration of someone trying to catch a snitch while also realizing halfway through that the snitch might actually be a patch of wibbly wobbly golden airspace again.

His brows pulled together.

"So the ghost is basically… borrowing people battery?" he asked slowly, fingers conducting an invisibly symphony. "Like one of those portable charger thingies? Or like machines do in the Matrix?"

Talk about a film that gave a person an existential crisis. No spoons. Everything is chicken. Déjà vu.

Anyway, his brain couldn't possibly stop moving for even one blessed second now ― which was not a guarantee of anything smart coming out of his mouth.

"Wait. If a ghost borrowed energy from another ghost… would that make them, like, renewable? Ghost cannibalizing another for spirity energy? You think either Cloggs or Burbage did that and THAT'S why they're professors?"

Before she could fully recover from that ask sentence, the Gryffindor had already leaned forward onto his elbows with his chin dropping into both hands, staring at her with blatant wide-eyed, mouth agape awe.

"Yo, by the way, you're, like… crazy smart." Then an impish grin crossed his features. "Maybe you should tutor me or something. Though my track record with smart pretty blonde girls here is kinda dragon dung so far." He pointed vaguely toward his own nose ― which, for the record, had mended nicely and not gone all crooked or nothing. "First one launched a goblet at my face hard enough to rearrange my ancestors. Never had that happen to be before but... There's a first time for everything."

*squidnie* · 05-29-2026, 03:05 AM

“Nothing,” Cat said quickly, almost before CJ had even finished asking his question. She wasn’t about to explain that to him. She was also (basically) sworn to secrecy about the phrase, anyway. She wasn’t about to break that trust.

His next words brought to her brain a few terrifying images. The worst one being the Gryffindor somehow trying to brew said elixir and a variety of horrors that could ensue. She had a similar urge to the one she had a few minutes ago; to completely deny that she’d said anything at all on the subject and forcefully move on. However, the scraping of the chair on the floor and the lack of trust she had in his various liquids to stay in their assigned containers distracted her from being able to truly take control of the conversation while she had the chance.

So, here she was, somehow talking about batteries and the Matrix - a word she only had a vague recollection of and which made her feel completely out of her depth.

“That’s not -” Sweet Circe, this boy truly never. Stopped. Talking. Cat’s eyes briefly flicked down to the half-full mug of butterbeer in her hands. She took a deep breath to ride out the sudden urge to repeat the Opening Feast Fiasco.

His next words - since she had no way of getting her own in edgewise - struck her. She felt her face heat up and immediately lifted her mug to her lips for something to do, and as a tactic to hide her face a bit. He thought she was smart?

Wait. He thought she was pretty??

… he thought Marina was pretty?

Well, of course he did. Marina was very pretty. He’d be crazy not to notice.

Cat felt dizzy. How was she even supposed to respond to all of that?

“It’s because you kept referring to her as a pasta sauce.” Was he still unclear about that? “Marina doesn’t make it a habit of throwing dinnerware at people.” Cat paused, tilting her head slightly. “By the way, your nose seems to have healed normally.” Did he know?

The conversation seemed to be veering into uncertain territory for Cat, though, so she immediately steered it back to a place that felt more stable. Potions. “Ghosts don’t need to eat other ghosts. The whole point of the Draught of Ephemera is to give them a body. Although - and I do think this is important to say out loud - the potion is frowned upon. Like, it’s kind of a gross, Evil Wizard sort of thing to do. You can’t even find the ingredients anywhere.” Not that she had looked. And, if she were telling the truth, she wondered if it would be in the restricted section. “You literally use a person. To my understanding. So… more like stealing batteries that someone is actively using, rather than using a portable charger.” Was that vivid enough for you, Mr. Troll?

sweetpinkpixie · 05-31-2026, 11:06 PM

CJ blinked at her.

"But Marinara is a pasta sauce."

The protest came out with the earnest bewilderment of someone being accused of calling a dog a dog or the sky blue. His brow furrowed as he tried to untangle the problem, fingers drumming against the side of his butterbeer while he searched for whatever part of the conversation he'd apparently missed. Because the thing was, he knew Marina and Marinara weren't technically the same word.

Obviously. One was a person. The other belonged on all forms of pasta (except macaroni).

And yet somewhere between his brain and his mouth that distinction had apparently been getting intercepted by hostile forces.

Or maybe Nargles. Those were the ones that made the brain all brain foggy, right?

It wasn't even a new problem. Mom still delighted in reminding him that he'd spent entirely too many years saying 'supposably' before anyone successfully corrected him, and there had been an embarrassingly long stretch of childhood where he'd believed escape goat was a completely reasonable phrase. Truth be told, he still used this mixed up phrases in full confidence.

"I dunno," he admitted with a helpless shrug. "I wasn't trying to call her pasta. I was saying Marinara."

Which, unfortunately, explained absolutely nothing.

The mention of his nose derailed the conversation so completely it might as well have been hit by another goblet.

"Oh!" Rubbing at it, he turned sharply to one side and presented his profile with all the dramatic seriousness of a model posing for an aggressively niche magazine. One finger pointed toward his face. "Give it to me straight. Symmetrical?" He held the pose for a moment before slowly rotating to the opposite side. "Or do I have the rugged look now?" A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You know. Mysterious foreign transfer student. Survived terrible hardship. Fought a dragon. Wrestled a troll... Lost a fight with dinnerware."

It was exhausting being so confidently obtuse.

The more she elaborated on the ghost thing, the further CJ leaned back in his chair. His expression traveled steadily from curiosity to concern, then from concern to the dawning realization that he had wandered into information he never wanted to possess. By the end of it, he looked like he could make a hole through stone just to exit the conversation. Both hands came up in front of him, making a physical backing-away motion.

"Nope. Nope nope. Nopity nope."

Dark wizard business immediately lost most of its appeal. He liked Defense Against the Dark Arts well enough, but that was mostly for the action of spellcasting and duelling and less the...moral peril of it all.

"Wait." One finger now pointed across the table at her ― not rude at all. "How do you even know all this stuff?"

Every conversation seemed to follow the same pattern. He would mention something in passing, and Lemondrop would somehow produce an explanation, a historical detail, or an entire branch of magical theory he'd never even heard of. He was still untangling the the whole ice cream logic she had convinced him of. Kept him up some nights, truth be told.

His chin settled into his hands as he studied her openly.

"Seriously. Every conversation feels like somebody accidentally gave a textbook a personality. Which, actually, that makes sense the more time I spend over this way. Especially since your a Raven's Claw and Professor Cox is your Head of House."

Not because Cox was scary, exactly. Well. Maybe a little. A lot, a little? mostly because the professor carried himself like someone who probably knew seven hundred dead languages, could explain every single one without notes, could brew the whatcha-ma-call-it Potion in his sleep, and somehow remembered homework deadlines from three years ago. The sort of person who read impossibly dense books for recreation and then complained when they weren't challenging enough.

CJ shuddered dramatically.

"Imagine you all read for fun too."

The horror.

CJ's attention finally returned to the enormous mug sitting in front of him ― the famous butterbeer. The thing everyone talked about. The thing he'd spent months hearing about before ever setting foot in Britain. And, for perhaps the first time since sitting down, he actually stopped talking. His gaze dropped to the mug. Foam clung to the rim. The smell was sweet, warm, and mostly unfamiliar. He lifted it cautiously, took a sip, and paused.

Then he took a much larger sip.

His eyes widened.

Another sip followed almost immediately.

Then another.

Slowly, CJ lowered the mug, foam clinging to his upper lip something fierce, and stared at it as though it had just revealed a profound truth about the universe.

"...oh."

The mug was lifted again for further investigation.

"They just let people BUY this all unregulated and stuff?" Another sip. "No wonder British people put up with the weather."

He set the butterbeer down with the reverence normally reserved for his broom and guitar.

"Well, cross that off my Hogwarts bucket list then!"

*squidnie* · 06-04-2026, 06:08 PM

…he was serious, wasn’t he?

Cat eyed the boy. He had a knack for making her speechless, which was a feat in and of itself, to be quite honest. She was just caught off guard by his existence, really, that it took her brain a moment to catch up. And her brain was usually running in twelve different directions at once, so it was an odd sensation for her.

Finally, she found her voice again. “MAR-I-NA.” Her tone was clear and perhaps a bit louder than usual. “Say it back. Mar-i-na.” She’d stay here all day if she had to. This boy would not cause another scene by continuing to mispronounce Marina’s name. Cat would make sure of it.

“Symmetrical,” she confirmed with a nod. She narrowed her eyes again, scrutinizing CJ’s face more than the situation strictly called for. He did have a nice face. Not that she would say that to him. Or anyone. Ever. “I’m afraid if you’re going for ‘rugged,’ and ‘fought a dragon,’ though, maybe you should let her hit you.” It was casual. Just a suggestion, you know? She was being helpful.

She gained an almost unsettling amount of satisfaction seeing him shrink back from her like that as she explained the ghost thing. She tried to fight a smirk, but one corner of her lips still ended up quirked into a self-satisfied expression. She couldn’t help it. Maybe this would teach him to talk less about things he didn’t know. Maybe that would result in less weaponized drinking utensils.

But then he was calling her smart again, kind of, but this time it felt more pointed. Sort of sharp around the edges as it landed for her. And the way he was now leaning forward and looking at her was making her uncomfortable.

She sipped her butterbeer as an excuse for something to do with her hands. And her mouth. “I read a lot,” she said simply. The words felt like a massive understatement as she spoke them, but she also didn’t want to give CJ a full explanation. Still, something in her made her continue, as she was wont to do. “I like learning. Always have. And I’m muggleborn, so I need to catch up to everyone who already knows this kind of stuff.” She paused, her skin prickling with discomfort. “And Potions is my favorite subject.”

The comment about her head of house was interesting. She tilted her head slightly. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to say that she fit in with her house and Head of House, or if he was implying that because she was in Ravenclaw and that Professor Cox was the Head of House, she was now doomed to a boring life of Textbook Personality and no fun. She immediately wanted to argue this point and inform him that Professor Cox was actually very nice and helpful and had never given her detention for the unfortunate number of detention-deserving circumstances he’d found her in. But something in her made her pause. For some reason, she felt that Professor Cox wouldn’t appreciate his reputation being tarnished in that way. He had an image to uphold, just as she did.

“The Sorting Hat places you in a house that aligns with your values,” is all she said. Take that as you will, Mr. Miller.

His reaction to the wonder that is butterbeer managed to bring out a small smile. “Cheers,” she said, lifting her mug the tiniest amount before sipping her drink again.

sweetpinkpixie · 06-06-2026, 11:57 AM

Why was she gawking at him like that? Did he have something on his face? Completely oblivious to the butterbeer moustache currently occupying prime real estate above his upper lip, CJ resisted the urge to start patting himself down like he was searching for lost keys ― or the bit of parchment he had wrote the password to the common room down on because he could never remember it. Instead he just stared back for a second, waiting for the universe to reveal what joke it was making at his expense this time.

No joke came. Bummer. And they were still stuck on this nonsense about him not speaking in a proper British accent. Surely that was the only reason why this kept coming up, right?

"Mar." Easy. "I." Still easy. "Na."

Nailed it.

His grin widened triumphantly as folded his arms across his chest, ego inflated like he had just caught the golden snitch in the final of the Quidditch World Cup.

"See? I got it. Marinara."

The confidence was as breathtaking as it was embarrassing.

The suggestion that Marina ought to hit him again earned a thoughtful hum as he reached for his butterbeer again, eyes drifting toward the ceiling while he weighed the pros and cons.

On the one hand, Lemondrop probably had a point. On the other hand, the Hungarian Horntail of Gryffindor Tower had already demonstrated remarkable accuracy with airborne dinnerware and he was reasonably attached to having his face arranged the way it currently was. She'd have to find a different approach if she wanted to get near his face.

"...nah."

He took another sip and. The warmth of the butterbeer settled pleasantly in his chest and he sank back into his chair more comfortably, especially now that they were not directly discussing sinister Dark Wizard level stuff, fingers curled loosely around the mug.

His grin faded slightly as his expression softened.

"I dunno." The words came quieter than most things ever did from CJ while he rolled the mug slowly between his palms. "I don't really think you're behind anybody. Like... if somebody starts a race ten laps ahead of everyone else, you don't get to act all impressed when they're still winning ten laps later. That's not talent. That's just where they started."

His gaze flicked up to hers then, the mug stilling between his hands.

"And honestly? Anyone who looks down on somebody because they didn't grow up knowing all this stuff is pretty lame and lazy because learning things on purpose is way harder than learning them by accident or through absorption or whatever."

You know, like a sponge? He was always hearing about how kids' brains were supposedly sponges.

"My mom's crazy smart. Like, scary smart. Half the stuff I know about the magical world is because she made sure I knew it." His mouth twisted a bit until he wore duck lips for a couple of beats. "And somehow I still ended up like..." He gestured vaguely at himself. "...this. So maybe I'm not the best example."

He shook his head, brushing off the thought easily. It had already been established that Acid Pop and Marinara thought him a complete moron, so no elaboration had been necessary. And still, his grin returned.

"But seriously... purebloods, half-bloods, whatever could learn a lot from people like you. You actually have to ask why things work. Some people just grow up accepting everything because that's how it's always been."

The conversation lingered there for a second before he perked up a little more, the butterbeer rolling between his palms once again and his soup continuing to cool off to the side.

"Dad was Horned Serpent at Ilvermorny before transferring and being tossed into Gryffindor. His manager is constantly telling me I take after him. So when the Hat stuck me in Gryffindor too I wasn't exactly shocked. I knew I wouldn't be placed in Slytherin like mom had been." He laughed and ran a hand through his thick brown curls. "I mean...no surprise that I earned the nickname 'Sigh' is because that's the noise people make after talking to me for too long."

He lifted his butterbeer toward hers a second later, pausing midair in a belated realization that normal people probably did this before drinking half the mug.

"Anyway. Cheers, Textbook."

The nickname landed with easy affection, accompanied by a crooked grin that suggested he considered it less an insult and more a statement of fact.

"Thanks for explaining stuff to me. Maybe someday I'll be able to finally explain something to you."

*squidnie* · 06-10-2026, 02:44 AM

He was serious, then. Cat was sure that he was sure that he was saying the right thing. That possibility hadn’t even crossed her mind, but now it seemed like it made sense. There was just no way that this teenage boy was that clueless. Although Marina had referred to him as untrainable - unlike puppies. Basically.

It was an interesting thought, though, and made Cat look at him a bit differently. Maybe he wasn’t intentionally rude and dismissive. Maybe he wholeheartedly believed that he was the good guy here. Completely in the right.

“You’re not trying to be mean here, are you?” The question was genuine, as was her tone. She was now trying to understand him. Study him in much the same way that she studied a particularly difficult or confusing spell. One that she wasn’t confident she could figure out without doing some collateral damage.

She sipped her butterbeer, frowning slightly as she realized that it was almost gone now. Then looked back at CJ. He had a point - which was something she was not about to say outloud. She didn’t want to inflate his ego any more than it already was. She was fairly certain that if it got any bigger it would pop.

She grimaced only slightly when he referred to himself as this compared to his mother. And her too, maybe. He had said she was really smart. And she was, she thought. She knew books, could remember things she read. But she was beginning to think she wasn’t super smart about people. This was a weird year for her. She was trying to figure everyone else out, and realizing that maybe she had everyone wrong.

Except Marina. She was always confident in her best friend.

And there was that Textbook nickname again. Although this time it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

“What’s your full name, anyway?” It was off-topic, sort of, but it felt like safer ground and she wasn’t ready for this conversation to end yet. For some reason. “Sigh. CJ. Is it, like… Co-Sigh Jones. Siiiiighder. Cider? Cider Justanio Miller.” She wrinkled her nose. Then, for good measure, she added, “I don’t mind explaining things. If you like it.”

sweetpinkpixie · 06-13-2026, 11:50 PM

For perhaps the first time since sitting down, CJ looked genuinely confused. Not academically confused and overwhelmed with the burden of knowledge like he had been with all the zany freaky Dark potion talk, but confused on a deeply personal level that cut off all thought processes and briefly turned his expression vacant for several moments.

"Mean?"

His brows drew together as he repeated the word back to her, slower this time, as though examining it from a different angle. The mug paused halfway to his mouth. For a second he simply stared across the table at her, trying to work out where that had come from... almost like she'd just asked whether he secretly enjoyed kicking puppies.

"Uh. No?"

A laugh escaped him then, smaller than most of his laughs tended to be. CJ's gaze dropped briefly to the butterbeer in his hands, dark curls falling over his eyes. One thumb traced absent circles through the condensation collecting along the side of the mug while he considered it. Looking back over the past few weeks through that lens suddenly made several interactions considerably less confusing.

"Wait. Do people think I'm trying to be mean?" The possibility seemed to hit him several seconds late. "I just thought you all thought I was stupid, which I can live with because, I mean, not wrong really."

Accidentally becoming a public nuisance through sheer force of personality? That was pretty much a given and something he knew would be a whole thing in finding the people who enjoyed him in spite of it ― like Wes ― but being a jerk on purpose... Y I K E S.

"I mean, sometimes I'm being annoying on purpose," he admitted. "That's different. At least...in my head it is. Teasing and roasting. It's sort of my parents' love language at home. But... I don't really see the point in being mean on purpose, you know what I mean? Life's already kinda hard for people sometimes. Seems like a waste to go around making it harder on purpose."

The silence that followed lasted all of three seconds before Cat immediately derailed him with her question. His grin returned easily, though considerable more reserved than earlier ― remarkable, wasn't it? The Gryffindor Troll™ was capable of feeling self conscious every once in a while, too.

"No, no, keep going. You're cooking," he encouraged, leaning back in his seat a bit with his arms folding nonchalantly across his chest. "I wanna know who Cider Justanio is. Sounds like a guy who owns an alpaca sanctuary and sells artisan jam."

Would it be considered mean if he insisted that his name was just CJ? Probably. She had already clocked it as being a nickname.

"Cyrus Jamison," he offered, leaning forward to take another sip from his butterbeer and adding to his frothy facial hair. "I'm not sure why they wanted to give me the longest name ever and also tack on Miles as a middle name as well but..." He pointed at himself. "CJ. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay easier."

He smiled a bit more easily, more genuinely, as she offered to continue her tutoring services ― of which he needed plenty.

"Good." The word slipped out before he really thought about it ― nothing surprising about that since he was stream of consciousness personified most days. "'Cause I do like it."

Learning stuff, even if he was apparently committed to doing it the hardest possible way and getting lucky now and then by falling upwards.

*squidnie* · Today, 03:33 AM

The obvious bewilderment on CJ’s face was answer enough. He hadn’t been intentionally making fun of Marina with the name. Cat met his stare directly, then continued to keep her eyes on him as he worked through whatever thoughts came up as he apparently tried to figure out how he was coming across as mean.

She grimaced slightly when he admitted to being stupid, though, her body feeling hotter with the sudden guilt that coursed through it. Talk about mean, right? Maybe commenting on someone’s intelligence wasn’t the nicest thing. Maybe that was why she felt so weird when he did it about himself.

“I can’t speak for others,” she said unnecessarily. “But, um, yeah. I mean, I thought that maybe you were trying to be mean with the whole Marinara thing. Like when people used to call me random animals because they thought it was so funny that I go by Cat.” She immediately regretted the words once they were out - too personal, too close. She still didn’t quite trust the boy sitting across from her. Still, it was the truth. Her experience with being called names probably had something to do with why it was so easy for her to feel Marina’s annoyance, and why she assumed that CJ was doing it to just be mean.

Anyway. Moving on, yes?

“Alpaca sanctuary?” She repeated, her eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. She tilted her head slightly, gaze raising to the ceiling, then returned to the boy with the name in question.

She chewed on her lip for a moment, debating informing him of the situation forming on his face. Ultimately, she decided against it for the time being ~~probably out of curiosity to see how bad the bubble mustache could get~~. “Cyrus Jamison Miles Miller? And I thought my name was a mouthful,” she mumbled the last bit, finishing her own butterbeer as an excuse to pause and take stock of her racing thoughts. “Though I do suppose that it’s better than Cider Justanio.” But only just barely.

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