Bragi Holm was most certainly a foreign name. It didn’t sound French to Tybalt - but then Tybalt did not know a great deal of French. Nor had he travelled very far. The most he’d done was met a few international quidditch teams, which had not given him much knowledge on the wider world. In fact, he was rather curious to hear what Beauxbatons was like, if it was not like Hogwarts - but he also did not want to interrupt Mr. Holm’s state of awe.
He couldn’t help but grin at it, though, and peer out at the stairwell, trying to remember how it had felt to see it for the first time. But that had come after seeing the boats floating across the darkened lake, and the turrets rising in the night sky, and the feast on the table and the candles above it, after the whirlwind of a thinking hat and a new house to call home and a wonderful tiredness at all the high of all those incredible things, as though one had overdosed on sugar.
So the stairwell had perhaps not gotten its fair dues.
“It’s a little less marvellous when you’re late to lessons,” Tybalt said matter-of-factly, making no pretence of the fact he was speaking from experience. “But,” he offered, nodding at the next stage of their little adventure, “I hope you’re not scared of heights, because it’s ten times better from the top.” Perhaps it was straying a little too far (Tyb had no illusions that an invitation to the Coming Out Ball was a mandate to visiting the castle entire), but as far as he could see the staircases were yawning with emptiness - and who knew when Holm would get another chance to look around?
Tyb overtook the young man at the first step, both in order to coax him on, and to warn him about the various hazards of Hogwarts, like its affinity for trick steps. And moving things.
He couldn’t help but grin at it, though, and peer out at the stairwell, trying to remember how it had felt to see it for the first time. But that had come after seeing the boats floating across the darkened lake, and the turrets rising in the night sky, and the feast on the table and the candles above it, after the whirlwind of a thinking hat and a new house to call home and a wonderful tiredness at all the high of all those incredible things, as though one had overdosed on sugar.
So the stairwell had perhaps not gotten its fair dues.
“It’s a little less marvellous when you’re late to lessons,” Tybalt said matter-of-factly, making no pretence of the fact he was speaking from experience. “But,” he offered, nodding at the next stage of their little adventure, “I hope you’re not scared of heights, because it’s ten times better from the top.” Perhaps it was straying a little too far (Tyb had no illusions that an invitation to the Coming Out Ball was a mandate to visiting the castle entire), but as far as he could see the staircases were yawning with emptiness - and who knew when Holm would get another chance to look around?
Tyb overtook the young man at the first step, both in order to coax him on, and to warn him about the various hazards of Hogwarts, like its affinity for trick steps. And moving things.
