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      How to get sorted   10/05/2017

      To find the Sorting Form, click on the "Sort Me!" tab at the top of the page.    Before you go to fill out the form, make sure that you have a username that follows our rules. If you don't, your form will be rejected. You can change your name once yourself, by going to Account Settings -> Display Name. If you've already used your one change, you can request a name change in this topic. Be sure to read the first post in the topic carefully so we can get you updated without any back and forth.   Don't rush to answer the form! There's no prize for sending it in first. Please take your time and fill out the form thoughtfully, so the hat will have the information it needs to put your character in the right house.     Calendar: Sorting Form appears: Thursday, October 5th Sorting Form closes: Friday, November 3rd (No forms will be accepted after this date) The Sorting Ceremony closes: Sunday, November 5th, about 10am Central Time You find out your new house: Sunday, November 5th, 11 am Central Time First day of the new school year: Monday, November 6th   (For reference: Central Time Zone includes Chicago, Illinois)   How to get sorted:   1. Register with a name that follows our rules. The registration agreement explains the rules about names. You can also find them in the Rules.   2. Remember you may only send in one form total for this school year. If you send forms in from multiple accounts, we will not sort ANY of them. Then we have to feel bad about not sorting you. Don't make us feel bad, please.   3. Click on the Sort Me tab and fill out the sorting form as thoroughly as possible. The better we understand your character, the more likely we can put you in the right house. See "How to use the form" below if you're confused. For some in depth information on each house, please check out this topic on sorting. (Note: After you fill out the form, a copy will be PMed to you. Please save that because we delete them from our system after sorting.)   4. Wait for a PM from the Sorting Hat. Be patient, it could take a few days. If you don't receive a PM from the Sorting Hat within 4 or 5 days, contact one of the moderators.   5. If your form is: Accepted: Congratulations! You should now go post in the Sorting Ceremony topic in the New Member resources forum. This is very important. This post is where you'll go to find out what the Sorting Hat had to say about you. Don't skip this step! Rejected: Don't worry, you can still be sorted. Be sure to read the reasons for the rejection carefully, then edit your form (just click on the Get Sorted! link again) to fix the problem. Once you've done that, you can send the form in again. 6. That's it! Once you've gotten your acceptance letter AND posted in the Sorting Ceremony, you're all set. You'll find out where the Sorting Hat put you on Sorting day when you can check the Great Hall for the edited Sorting Ceremony.   How to use the form: The form is pretty straightforward and user friendly. Here are a couple tips: You don't need to fill the whole thing in at one sitting. You can finish one page at a time and save it. Then finish the rest later. Don't use your browser's Back or Forward buttons. Use the buttons in the form to Navigate.  If you don't fill out all the questions on a page, you can't save or move on. If you don't meet the word number requirements in the In Depth section, you can't submit the form. Use the "Check Word Count" buttons to see how many words you've used. If you fill in the wrong answers on the quiz page, you won't be able to submit the form. After you've submitted the form, you can't access it anymore. But if your form is rejected, you'll be able to see it again with your old answers still filled in. Still have questions? Ask here.    Note: Section I: Short Answer Please include a brief explanation with each answer. I'd like to remind you all to include an explanation with all the short answer questions. The answers to those questions aren't very useful for sorting unless you explain them.   Otherwise, we don't have enough information to sort you with. (Translation: we'll have to reject it.)     Many thanks as always to Arianna Wright for her hard work revising and updating the form and to Faraz Memon for initially coding it many years ago. <3
Irene Redgrave

Went the distance now I'm back on my feet

9 posts in this topic

Irene generally found the library a comforting place to think: there was the soft sound of pages in old books being turned, the smell of parchment and ink, the rustle of people digging in book bags;  all of these built a soothing environment for Irene to color-code her notes, write other people's homework and develop complex strategies for her various endeavors.  However, the outdoors were also nice.  When she ran, for instance, her heart thudding in her ears created a steady roar to drown out unhelpful thoughts and narrow her focus.  The occasional breeze ruffled her hair and brought her back from a loose train of thought, her muscles burned and spurned her onwards to ingenuity.

 

When she pivoted in the dirt and slapped a tree trunk at the edge of the forest she caught out of the corner of her eye the ratty sweater of familiar Hufflepuff for the umpteenth time.  Laps around the pitch were boring, stagnant so she always ran from point to point across the campus, touching each fixture that was a measure of her distance progress.  She liked to think she could also measure the progress of her train of thought by these stages too.  Except for today. 

 

Irene let out of a huff of a breath through her nose and changed course.  Edison had been running at least as long as she had.  She didn't know this because she wanted to know, or had been intentionally watching him but he kept popping up in her field of vision - just dangling on the edge of her sightlines, like an odd human-shaped lure.  From an intellectual stand point Irene felt she had an obligation to at least see what his running path was like, she was always open to a little switch up in work out. 

 

So she started following him at a discreet distance.  She didn't notice that her thoughts faded away from constructing a history of magic essay argument and instead drifted towards her memory of Ed's reputation for brawling.  She'd had her own unwilling foray into that 'sport' recently so there was no reason to question the consideration of his physicality in comparison to hers. ...Of course while Edison probably won some of his fights - Addison hand handily served Irene her own arse. 

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He was being followed, and he knew it.

 

It was an inconvenience Edison wasn't expecting when he'd set out on his run that day. Normally his jogs were the most private moments for him, the one and only time he truly felt comfortable in his head because it gave him something to do. It wasn't something he did with any particular goal in mind; his feet moved, his mind replayed fight after fight in his head, and his lungs kept him going until his body protested and begged him for a break. There was no rhyme or reason to the paths he took, simply circling the castle and skirting the edge of the forest before returning again, so thoroughly in the zone that nothing and no one could bother him.

 

At least, not until someone's footfalls and breathing aligned perfectly with his. He tilted his head imperceptibly, trying to figure out if the person behind him was friend or foe. It wouldn't be the first time someone had come after him looking for a rematch after one of his tasteless corridor brawls. 

 

Instead of a former victory, however, he found a girl—Irene, if he remembered correctly, one of the Slytherin quidditch girls who'd recently gotten into a fight with some other girl. The fourth years had been a wild bunch this year, from what he'd been able to observe, and Irene had been on the losing end of most of it, if the grape vine was to be believed. He had no idea why she would want to follow him, of all people, and it made him self-conscious. Still, nothing was worse than them just jogging awkwardly twenty paces from each other.

 

Resolving himself to his social fate, he slowed down his pace before turning around outright and jogging towards her. She was quite pretty, now that he got a good look at her. "Um. Hi," he said shyly, giving her a closed-lipped smile to hide his crooked teeth. He was jogging in place at this point. "You alright? Wanna like...do this lap together maybe?"

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It became readily apparent that she had been discovered.  Irene was not very physically accomplished, she was agile on a broom and one of the better chasers in the school because she could bend in the air and anticipate a keeper but she couldn't do much on solid ground.  Despite a solid growth spurt she was on the smaller, daintier side.  Edison could easily outmatch her in any number of ways not the least of which was running, so when she was able to easily keep pace with him her green eyes narrowed.  When he turned around and addressed her in what could only be described as an amiable fashion her head tilted suspiciously.

 

Their last interaction had been a few years ago but she remembered it like it was yesterday.  She had a knack for people and she took excellent notes.  Edison Byrnes had been short, terse, rude, and made Irene feel like crap.  Of course she'd immediately crushed something terrible over him.  He'd been a dark brooding warrior. ...Why was he suddenly being nice four years later?  Her mind quickly analyzed his grin.  It would have been more in line with her expectations if he had turned around and slugged her.  Instead he addressed her... cordially. 

 

Trap.  Her intellectual processes concluded.

 

However, 'Trap' also was a level seemingly above the simplified processes she would have identified as symptomatic of Edison Byrnes.  Tldr; Ed wasn't complicated enough to play such games. So - Why was he being nice?  She smiled back, bigger, stalling to keep her mind from blowing up in confusion.

 

"G'day." She'd not bothered to keep running in place like him and hesitated for a second before shrugging, "I guess - could do." She started past him at a pace she hoped he'd find acceptable but she wanted to have enough breath to talk still, "Sorry, I noticed you were out and remembered that Abby said you're a boxer or such?"  That was the polite term for someone who hit everyone he came across, right? 

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It was awkward from the second he'd opened his mouth. That much was obvious. Edison remembered her, of course, from when she'd first gotten to Hogwarts, back when his mother had first left the house and he'd taken to lashing out at anyone who tried to get close before retreating further into himself. Second year had been a constant battle of emotions where he would punch anyone who said the wrong thing and be short and rude to anyone who didn't deserve it.

 

Hence why he ran laps now.

 

Things were better for him, which made it easier to smile and say hello to people, sure, but didn't mean that people didn't already expect a certain level of Eeyore-esque grump out of him. It was understandable, then, why he thought she'd straight up tell him to die in a fire rather than actually take him up on his offer.

 

But then she did. Huh. Girls never did what he expected them to do, after all. "Cool," he said, watching her briefly as she took off and set the pace, rolling his shoulders and grinning slightly to himself as he easily caught up and matched his strides with hers. It only took a moment for her to engage him in conversation, and when she did, he immediately felt embarrassed. For some reason, he hadn't made the connection that she would know Abby through quidditch. Idiot.

 

"Uh, yeah," he said, flustered and completely aware of the fact that his cheeks were probably flushed beyond redemption at this point. "It's nothin', really. Basically muggle dueling except with slightly cooler scars to show for it." He held out his hands showing off his off-centered fingers and marked up knuckles. "When I win and people like it, I get more work. And when I get more work, the Ministry gets scared and sends me angry letters about making money from beating muggles up. I think they're scared that I'm going to draw too much attention."

 

He was hyper-conscious about how much he was talking, and abruptly stopped his spiel, running a hand over his beard. "I've heard you've been landing some punches yourself, lately." It was a gamble, mentioning it.

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Oh right, okay.  He didn't punch everyone he came across, just the people he fought in what Irene was sure were perfectly legal, above board sportsmanlike competitions of valor and ... something or other.  Her eyebrows lifted but since they were running side-by-side now he hopefully missed her skepticism with regard to his comment on the ministry.  She wasn't entirely up on the whole fighting as a sport thing.  Was it a magical sport?  Was it like professional dueling?  Wizards couldn't duel professionally until they passed their OWL exams, at least not in the British leagues.  ...Muggles?!

 

Irene missed a step and almost tumbled but caught herself. "Well - yeah," she agreed unconsciously thinking that he was beating up muggles with magic and then glanced at his hands with him.  Where he was proud she was surprised.  She stopped all together and reached out without thinking.  Her finger tips traced the scars like textured pieces of puzzle filing away the lines as pieces of Edison's greater whole in her brain. Her brow furrowed in consideration.

 

"But... but... why?"  Her voice didn't hold any judgment or condescension - just the pure curiosity of a girl who didn't understand physical violence.  She lifted his hands as if to show him what he couldn't see for himself. "Ow?" Coming from nothing but magic she didn't understand, couldn't comprehend an instinct to do anything other than to reach for her wand when threatened - being a girl probably contributed to that though she would hate to admit it. But magic was so powerful how could he need to do anything else besides take a step back reach for that ~magical~ power inside himself? WITHOUT PAIN? WITHOUT DANGER?  She'd heard about the illusive pull of adrenaline but it never made sense to her. Adrenaline baffled Irene - how could some rush hold more appeal than survival? What could make anyone want to hurt themselves, throw themselves in front of pain?  She crinkled her nose at the mention of her own recent "foray" into the physical arts.

 

She scoffed, partly out of embarrassment and partly because she actually technically hadn't thrown a single punch.  She'd pulled Addison's arm out of her own gut and rolled over to shift her own weight until she'd moved far enough away to pass out without being kicked in the head. ...again.  Brilliant technique, Redgrave. 

 

She'd been raised to be the 'Lady' she was and while that self-realization held no shame somehow she didn't think she'd earn any street cred with Edison with that truth either. The truth that she couldn't defend herself without a wand or her tongue.

 

Instead her own arm was thrust outward towards him wrist up, "I got a scar from falling out of tree when I was eight." Ah, deflection, an old friend. The scar was tiny and insignificant compared to any of Edison's impressive lacy feats arcing across his hands like intricate webbing but Irene's face was full of pride, as if it made them equals. "I was pushed." She added with a nod, in case that helped. "It hurt a lot."

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Edison didn't realize that Irene had reached out for him immediately, nearly stumbling over himself in surprise when she reached for his hands. It was a natural thing for her to do; he had stuck his hands out for examination, after all. Yet he still found himself blushing, and it took much of his self control not to pull his hands away. It was a very rare thing for Edison Byrnes to allow himself to be touched—unless that touching was physical violence, but that was beside the point.

 

"Why?" he asked, grinning in amusement at the faceful of his own knuckles he received. "Yes. Definitely ow." He knew that his role in the so-called gentleman's sport was beyond the comprehension of basically everyone at Hogwarts. Wizards and witches got their adrenaline kicks on brooms, in the air, where the only thing that could hurt you was a raging ball of steel and perhaps a rogue bat now and again. Edison's crippling fear of heights had kept him from enjoying that kind of rush. He was no bird, and he had no desire to play God by finding alternatives to wings. He'd rather succumb to his baser instincts. "Sometimes your wand doesn't feel like enough, I think." he said, trying to explain, hoping she'd understand.

 

She'd have to. People who got into fist fights, even if it's the only one of their lives, must realize in that precise moment just how much better that bone-to-bone feeling can be. It was animalistic catharsis. It was the only thing in the world that was simple enough to turn Edison into a poet.

 

It was not lost on him that she was still holding his hands.

 

And then she let him go, and it was his turn to reach out for her wrist, readjusting her to get a proper look at this scar of hers. "Ah," he replied. He could barely see her scar but played along anyway. Apparently deflection was a mutual friend of them both. "Who pushed you?" he asked. Then added, good naturedly and with a few extra innocent blinks added, "Want me to punch them for you?" It was about as close to a proper joke as he could possibly get.

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She laughed as he probably intended and waved off the offer.  While she intended to say she could take care of herself now that she was a big girl it wasn't technically true since, as he'd alluded to, she'd just recently been knocked around.  Still she let his earlier words roll around in her head.  They resonated with Irene but on a different frequency.  Where Edison felt a confidence and connection to his physicality Irene felt insecure and an awareness in the lacking of her own. 

 

She rolled her eyes at herself. "Ok not to play the girl card," she was rather afraid she could be the face of the girl card and it was disappointing, "but the way you said it - when your wand isn't enough... It's a good feeling for you yeah?" Her voice was casual, trying not to be serious about it but still trying to grapple with her understanding because she did want to understand.  She had a need to dissect and analyze.  She shrugged and made a fist with her own hand then turned aside to him again.  She lifted it to put it along side his so they were facing the same way and she could compare her fist to his obviously bigger, stronger one.  

 

"For me it's terrifying.  If my brain isn't enough, my magic isn't enough?  I'm left with this..."  Idly her fist knocked against his.  She thought about fighting someone and her lips pressed together as Addison flashed in her mind.  Her other fingers unconsciously crossed herself to push at ribs previously bruised by well-landed kicks and she shook her head, "Hard to believe it could ever be fun." 

 

Since awkward humor was the prescription of the hour though she made the good faith effort to cover it up, "... I'm uh sure winning has something to do with that though," shaking off the images of violence she smiled up at him with a self-depreciating laugh. "You'd know more about that than me." 

 

"But hey- I'm interrupting your work out." Irene realized she'd been chatting at Edison for too long and neither of them were running anymore.  He was probably waiting for her to shut up and leave already so he could finish. "I usually run around this time... If you ever want to bestow your precious wisdom and appreciation." She grinned. "I happen to be an excellent student of all things... except Runes." She stood up straighter and made a slightly dramatic hand gesture encompassing her general distaste and disapproval, "Which are stupid." She felt obligated to tack on the last part, because that was the only reason she sucked at reading them.  She could regurgitate the information in textbooks all day but interpreting signs and other nonsense was purely subjective and as such couldn't be standardized or graded fairly.  Irene had opinions. If Ed was smart he agreed on the subject of Ancient Runes.

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He furrowed his brows, not fully understanding her question. "Well...yeah." The answer seemed obvious to him but the fact that she asked him suddenly made him self-conscious. Did that make him a monster, or a brute? It didn't take much to get Edison feeling like he had trolls somewhere in his family tree. He knew he was dumb and that boxing, no matter how much trouble it was getting him into with the Ministry, was his only chance at not becoming a deadbeat in the future.

 

His hand fell limply to his side, all attempts at trying to be uncharacteristically good-natured and humorous disappearing in a second, replaced by his typical broody self. He understood her but he couldn't sympathize, though he let out a breath of a laugh for her sake. "You'd be surprised. My losses are usually my best fights." She wouldn't get it, but that was okay. He shrugged. "It's all opposite for me, I guess."

 

Part of him felt like he had no business talking to someone who was smart and going places. His friendships, the only anchors keeping him here at school, were the sort of people who had simply latched onto him early on and refused to let go; making new ones wasn't something he was well-versed in at all. Which was why he wasn't surprised or made any motions to stop her from leaving when she decided she wanted to go. It was clear that her offer was one of politeness, the sort of thing you said just to inch your way out of a conversation. He couldn't blame her. How many lame jokes had he made in the span of ten minutes?

 

And yet…

 

"Runes are the stupidest," he agreed, failing to mention that he'd never attended a Runes lesson. He took a step back, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts and looking bashfully down at his shoes. "Maybe we can make a deal. I teach you how to throw a slightly better punch, you help me get through my Runes OWL?"

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Whatever she had been expecting: some cool brush off, or grateful clutch of the exit she'd tossed she didn't get.  Instead he offered to teach her?  Was he serious? Irene's smaragdine eyes lit up at the prospect.  Her ability to improve other the grades of other students was her singular marketable skill in life. She wasn't about to waste the opportunity to leverage it.

 

"Deal! Any class you want!" She all but clobbered Edison as she threw herself forward and hugged him.  Her version of a hand-shake.  "We can start right now!"  Or they could if the squeal of excitement she let out in his ear didn't make him too deaf to teach her.  Maybe she was getting carried away.  His fault, she was excitable and he'd lured bait.  Now if he wanted to be rid of her he'd have to figure out how to kick her away on his own.  

 

"Okay, okay." She let him go and backed up a couple of steps to lift her arms in a pitiful pair of fists.  While they covered part of her face, her wrists were hobbled so her fists faced herself with her thumbs tucked inside.  She was bobbing up and down on her the tips of her toes with excitement, which were placed directly beside each other and she was hunched into a tiny ball of glee.

 

"I'm ready." 

 

She was the furthest thing from ready to fight anyone.  Ever. But she was also probably the happiest she had been all year. Hopefully her glee would be infectious enough to keep Edison from completely giving up on her before he'd even started.


Edited by Irene Redgrave

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