Only Dead Men Are Free
@faux-propriety
There was a certain amount of joy in knowing he would leave Hogwarts behind for good in a few months. The place had brought Gwyn nothing but headaches from the neverending buzz of voices around him, deep annoyance towards the adults in charge of his education, and renewed distaste for mudbloods. More and more they thought they were entitled to certain things like their strange devices and modified uniforms and new dorms for whenever they were feeling quirky. No, Gwyn would certainly not miss that place one bit.
But he would, he thought as he was walking towards the Quidditch pitch, mis playing under Karis’ command. She was an excellent captain and a good friend, in spite of her frankly liberal ways. But she told him no and benched him and argued with him at times, and there weren’t many people willing to do all that who meant much to the boy. Which explained the smile currently on his face, he thought as he tried to fight it, keep any hint of happiness under wraps. Too many enemies around to risk presenting them with an angle of attack.
“I’ve been training harder than usual,” was all the greetings he gave the blonde. His hurried walk and familiar speech spoke better on how glad he was to see her. “There’s no way we’re leaving this place without the Quidditch cup in our hands. I will burn the whole castle down otherwise.”











