Avalon, was restless. His entire being was alive with the will of the day, and despite the threat of rain he took to the cool misty morning as if the very sun was to shine. The cold burned his lungs, the hang over from last night pounded at the base of his skull, but nothing that a few laps around the pitch couldn't fix. With a few good stretches he took off down the stairs to greet the morning.

Early still, he knew most of his friends from the rat pack would still be sleeping off their bit of fun from the night before, but it wouldn't surprise him if he found a few other early morning stragglers out on the hunt for the morning.


He couldn't quite face the heavy feeling of a deep impossible slumber, the sort that came with an illness or nightmares, but Avalon's night was without them both. He didn't dream, at least not when school was in session. He didn't have the time! His days were spent in classes, his evenings and weekends at the pitch, and the nights strumming along with the rest--trying to keep the tempo that their excitement set.

Life was well. Happy. Content. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so greedy in taking more than he deserved, but as the cool morning air burned his lungs he dipped into it greedily to start his morning jog.

Jay had always greeted the early morning with a sense of serenity. He needed it now more than ever. There was only a few months left of the school year which meant he only had a few months left at Hogwarts, a few months left of school altogether and regrettably only a few months left of seeing Katy everyday. He couldn't help himself from wondering if their relationship would last past the school year. He'd return to France and pursue a career and she'd still be here in Hogwarts, studying. He supposed the most he could hope for would be good pen pals, but even that couldn't last forever right?

With his hands in his pockets Jay strolled across the light dusting of snow that covered the school grounds. His breath came out in little white puffs. He was lost within his own mind when he really should have been studying. His notepad was back at the Beauxbatons lodgings, along with all the models he had managed to make since arriving here. He could have spent his morning honing his craft, using the ever flowing inspiration of the castle to continue his architectural works but instead he had decided to go for a walk to clear his head. Unfortunately it was doing the complete opposite and so he found himself wishing for a distraction when a younger man, Ravenclaw from the looks of his scarf jogged by.

"Lovely morning, c'est pas?"

It was early Sunday morning. Walton usually liked to sleep late when he didn't have class, but he had been restless this weekend and gone to bed earlier than usual the night before. He popped out of bed bright and early when one of his roommates alarm clocks went off, and instead of trying to get back to sleep decided to go ahead and start his day. He pulled on some old, worn out, comfortable jeans and a dark thermal shirt. Walton laced up his trainers- using his wand to mend a hole in the toe of them. He really needed to owl his parents about needing a new pair, but he kept forgetting since he only wore them on weekends. He grabbed his broom from his trunk and slung it lazily over his shoulder then headed down the dormitory stairs.

On his way through the common room Walton paused by a mirror; he ran fingers through his messy hair and shrugged. No reason to put forth much effort in it if he was going to end up. He went out the portrait hole and padded down the stairs, dropped by the great hall to grab a pastry to eat, and then made his way out the front doors and down the grounds toward the quidditch pitch. He tossed the last bite of his pastry to a bird and wiped his hands on his trousers.

He was surprised to see two other figures out on the pitch. Roth- a Ravenclaw, who was jogging. And a Beauxbatons boy who was walking. "Morning gents!" he called out, mounting his broom and flying over to them. He hovered in the air nearby, grinning, one hand gripping the broom handle and the other pushing hair out of his face. "Looks like we've all got some extra energy to burn, yeah? Anyone care for a broom race?" He flew a quick circle around the two of them, grinning.

Lucas had been lingering between reality and sleeping when he heard someone stir in the room. It was indeed morning, according to his watch and a very gray one at that. He had an on going flirtation with early mornings, but he hadn't committed himself to them. Especially not when they were tailor made for sleeping in.The rustling of fabric continued for another moment, before the door creaked open and closed as the early riser left. Lucas buried himself in his pillow for a few seconds, but sleep, it seemed, was not coming back to get him any time soon.

Lucas groaned a bit and pushed off the comforter, defeated for the time being. He looked around the room for the newly empty bed so he knew exactly who to blame for being subjected to the siren call of the early morning. Avalon was the culprit and if he was outside, Luc decided, it wasn't anything a race around the Quidditch pitch couldn't settle. Luc pulled together something warm and comfortable from the pile of clothes in his trunk and set out to the pitch.

Dodd was airbound when Luc made it outside, circling over Avalon, and a Beauxbatons boy. "Morning," he waved as he jogged over. A race sounded fun, but no one else had brought their brooms. "How about you come down here and we do a foot race?"

Avalon gave a little shrug to Valjean's inquiry about the morning, it was nice he supposed. It was a morning, and though he was to blame for the early arrival of it, Avalon simply couldn't subject himself to another day wasted. (Especially when there was so much work to do) Unaware of a single time they had any one one one, or even anything as intimate as a small gathering, Avalon wondered if Jean-Paul knew that he wouldn't get much of an answer from the silent Ravenclaw, much less one in French. Hell, he had a hard enough time learning English growing up, and envied those that could communicate so easily in many forms. Sign language, he felt didn't count, despite how much his mother tried to get him to understand. He felt like it was cheating, and refused to use it at Hogwarts. Instead, he scribbled on things, wrote in mud, wrote on stones, kept little note pads in his pockets and pencils in his shoes. Often, Avalon woke up with ink on his face from forgetting the pen he tucked behind one ear, and his friends kept their little doodles and conversations swearing blackmail.

"It's morning, if that is what you mean," He wrote back to Jean-Paul on the little notepad he kept in his hoodie's pocket, after stopping long enough to talk. "Never trust the morning." He handed the note to the boy with  smile, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he caught his breath, and watched Dodd approach. When asked about the broom race, Avalon turned his hands palm up to signal they were empty, but Lucas beat him to the punch.

He hoped he didn't wake Norwood up, he looked like he just crawled out of bed, but as soon as the guilt washed over him he did his best to suppress it. He really needed to keep in mind, no one slept as deeply as Elijah, but at least the rest of the house seemed to go to bed at a proper hour.

Putting Lucas' hood up on his sweatshirt, Avalon pulled the strings tight to close the opening around his friend's face, it was a proper way to say good morning right? Who needed air this early anyway?

Jay accepted the note from the younger Ravenclaw with a quirked brow. When he read it, he offered up a smile. He had remembered hearing something about one of the Hogwarts boys being a mute but since his studies had more regularly been with the Seventh years over the Sixth years he hadn't thought much about it. He supposed this was the student they had been talking about. As Jay contemplated how to properly communicate with him another young man his own age arrived and offered up a friendly race.

"Not too good on a broom myself, I'm afraid." Though he had been at the school for six months now, it was often shocking for those that knew him as a Beauxbatons student to hear his American accent. He knew his brother was receiving the same reaction though he often played along with pretending to be one of the Salem kids, something Jay had been unable to successfully pull off.

Another Ravenclaw boy joined the fray and it was obvious him and the silent one were friends, just judging by their body language. Jay wondered if after spending five and a half years together they were able to communicate better than the other students could, "I could go for a foot race, might not be much competition for you though."

Norwood had a point, he did seem to be the only one with a broom. Odd, he thought, for so many people to be gathering at the pitch without brooms. "Foot race?" he asked. "I don't think my chances are quite as good with a foot race." Plus he wasn't sure he felt up to running this early in the morning. Especially not after devouring that gigantic pastry on his way down to the pitch. The Beauxbatons boy stated he was up for a foot race, and he shrugged a little from his broom. "But if you guys are all up for one, then I'm okay with that. Not often I have many foot races."

He lowered his broom, and smiled a little at the way Avalon pulled the strings on Norwood's hoodie. Walton set his broom off to the side of the pitch and stretched a little. "So what brings everyone down to the pitch without a broom?" he asked, pulling his left arm across his body and cracking his neck a little. "There's enough of us to get a mock game going. There's some school issue brooms in the locker room," Walton jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Race isn't very interactive," he noted. "And I don't want to interrupt anyone's routine." Walton shifted his gaze from one boy to another. They were all out here for a reason, probably. And entertaining him with a race probably wasn't one of those reasons. But at least he knew, with him out on the pitch, they probably weren't going to get up to anything too bad. Sometimes being Head Boy was convenient. He'd hate to have to haul someone in for trying to tear up the pitch. (Not that he expected that out of two Ravenclaws and a Beauxbatons student, but he'd learned you can't predict people.)

Avalon pulled Luc's hood up and before he could block the other boy, the strings were yanked to close tight around his face. Lucas laughed and reached for Avalon to pin the other boy beneath his arm for a good and hair mussing Avalon deserved already this morning. When he was satisfied he let Avalon go and loosened his hood again.

Dodd wanted to know what brought them to the pitch with no brooms. "Not many places to run inside," Luc pointed out. They could get a bit of a game going, there were school issue brooms after all, but the other boy claimed he wasn't as good on a broom. Lucas agreed that a foot race wasn't very interactive and it left him to wonder what it was they could all do together. "Do we still have a football around here," he asked looking to Avalon again.

Avalon wasn't mute because he didn't have a voice, he was mute simply because his brain didn't function right, and he could produce a few sounds without much control. He spoke so very little, cried even less, but the one thing that anyone could always count on was how much loved to laugh. As soon as Luke started to struggle he was chuckling, and through their little bit of a wrestling he sounded a tad victorious. When Luc brought up the football his entire face lit up, one Muggle sport he was rather fond of! Of course there was one, somewhere in the weeds from last time, rugby too. He went to get them both, and with a kick to the football Avalon aimed it right for Dodd in hopes to see him off that broom.

Couldn't be looking down on them from the flat of his back now could he?

To Jean-Paul, Avalon tossed the Rugby ball, let them figure out what they wanted to play. He was ready for anything, and already starting to shed a few over the top layers of his attire. Screw the cold! It would warm up soon right?

As far Theo was concerned, sleeping in was for other people.

Up in the stands, the Slytherin boy had been relaxing there since early morning; even as a child he had never needed much sleep, and so by the time he was ten he had made his household understand that, too. Back at the Whitman manor (-his manor, thank you) it was a common to catch sight of the heir up and about the estate– sometimes even as early as the wee hours of the morning –and being Hogwarts had proven no different.

It was just one of the many little quirks that made Theo, Theo, really. Hence, the stands; admittedly, they were not his usual scene (though he would be quick to inform you that any scene could and would be, should he so want it): the benches were stiff and spartan, and high up in the stands the wind was even harsher, chillier. Compared to the creature comforts offered by the library, the stands were a trial few would suffer outside a quidditch game, and for good reason.

But, of course, he had his own reasons for being there. And when he spotted the small group forming on the pitch (unable to help but notice how very small they looked from up there), he had put them away, already halfway down the steps when another Ravenclaw– Norwood, he saw– appeared. Drawing closer, he overheard them talking among themselves—something about about feet?

No, a football. Theo very nearly sighed; it was probably something muggle.

“That’s the one involving feet, isn’t it?” he inquired, smiling faintly at the lot of them in greeting (particularly Walton, although his grin was extra bright when he flashed it Avalon’s way) as he approached, watching the soccer ball shot off in Walton’s direction. He came to stand some ways beside Jean-Paul, and looked at the rugby ball curiously; now standing among them, the prefect seemed rather under-dressed in his double-fold peacoat and scarf, although he didn’t appear to notice. “Is this for Muggle Studies?” 

Jay watched the other boys interact feeling slightly out of place but only just. He hadn't had much trouble getting along with the other students but it was always rough the first few minutes, especially within a group that had known each other for years. He had always been much better at getting along and making friends with the girls, they responded better to his charms.

He caught the rugby ball that was tossed to him and twirled it in his hands a bit. He was a much bigger fan of football over rugby but it knew the sport well enough if the others wanted to play. He balanced the ball against his hip looking to the small group of men that had managed to come across each other, he hadn't even noticed that he had wondered into the pitch himself to begin with.

He had no official plans for the morning and it was far too early for him to call upon Katy without feeling inappropriate for doing so. He supposed he probably should have had more of a breakfast but that could always wait for later. If they were going to get physical it would just make him that much more hungry, "so what do you say?"

Moments later another Hogwarts student arrived, Jay couldn't help but notice the similarities between the newcomer and the elitist at Beauxbatons. The same posture, style of dress, even manner of speech. When he spoke Jay had the distinct feeling the young man was a pureblood or at least had grown up in a wizard family, "usually it's for fun."

Tony had been jogging since before the sunrise.

He hadn’t been all too happy when he’d awoken at just shy of five o’clock in the morning, and he’d been downright scowling and tempted to start making noise to wake up the others in the room when he’d realized he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Staying in bed had not been an option, nor had studying –and so he’d found himself jogging across the ground. Where mist had been covering the grass, the sun slowly began to rise and, although he knew many people who felt like watching that pink color tinge the sky was tranquilizing, he’d groaned and narrowed his eyes at the invasive light. And if the sun was annoying, there was simply no adjective to describe the group of people he watched leave the castle and head towards the Quidditch Pitch. Eventually, his curiosity was peaked against his will, and the sixteen year old found himself heading that direction as well.

When he reached them and saw they were kicking a ball, all his hopes and dreams that he was about to catch them hard at work at some wicked conspiracy were dashed –as was the possibility that they’d be up for something he could hex them about. Instead, he was looking at a group of students –composed of a couple of Ravenclaws, a Head Boy, a Beauxbatons student and a fellow Slytherin he usually found himself wanting to hex. Not particularly a welcome sight, but the fact that they were chatting about football made him roll his eyes as he finished the last few feet to them and, against his better thoughts, joined them.

“Are you a group of blokes, or a group of little boys?” He muttered, rubbing at his eyes, and not quite giving a damn that he was dressed in running pants and a short-sleved tee that not only meant he was freezing, but now appeared somewhat out of his mind. “If you’re playing with that ball, you should all be muddied up and hurt by now.”

Avalon's kick went wide- his timing was off. Walton had already dismounted his broom before the Ravenclaw sent the ball flying in his direction. Fun and games was good and all, but trying to intentionally throw someone from their broom was taking it a little overboard. It was an easy way to hurt someone. Had Walt been hovering at a higher distance from the ground, he would have said something. But as it was, no harm no foul, and he didn't feel the need to put on his Head Boy pants just yet. Even so, his lips flat lined in the direction of Avalon.

He smiled, and offered a friendly wave to his Slytherin prefect. "Nah, not for muggle studies," he said to Theo. "Just for fun. I was the only one who brought their broom, so we figured we'd do something else. Probably for the best anyway," he said, smiling a bit. "I would have wiped the floor with everyone in a broom race anyway." He was joking, really. Walt was good on a broom- but definitely wasn't the best. Quidditch and flying were for fun, as a hobby, not for something serious.

Walton's demeanor shifted noticeably when Anthony Hoult graced them with his presence. His posture stiffened, and his lip twitched. Hoult had a bad reputation as a trouble maker- and Walton wasn't looking to spend his morning breaking up fights or docking points. He was hoping to have a little fun and blow off some steam- not get stuck doing his Head Boy duties because some Slytherin git couldn't keep a handle on his temper. "Haven't started playing yet," he said to Tony. "Haven't had time to get muddied up or hurt."

He paused for a minute, looking over the group. "There's six of us. Could do three on three for something. Rugby or football, I'm game for both." Walton finished his stretching and adjusted his trainers again. "You guys have a preference?"

The moment Theo walked onto the pitch, the very air went cold. Avalon's entire being stiffened, and he felt the control of his temper start to dissipate. He wouldn't stay, right? Theo just wasn't the sort to play games like this was he? Either way, Avalon did his best to try and quell his bit of frustration. He shouldn't feel this way. It wasn't like him. Avalon took great pride in the fact he was a 'nice guy', a good friend, and a good student. But there was just something about Theo Whitman that absolutely got on his last nerve, and Avalon did his best to try and just let it all go.

He turned away from the group to gather the ball, and kicked it back to Jean-Paul. With a tug on Luc's arm to come join, Avalon was clear he wasn't going to wait on the rest to delicate teams. Soccer was fine with him, though the thought of being able to tackle both Whitman and Hoult and put their pretty faces down in the dirt...

Avalon shook his head as he kept his hands in his pockets, realizing that he was in dire need of this more than he thought.

Their potential two on two game very quickly grew to include two Slytherins. Neither Theo Whitman nor Anthony Hoult were people he would seek out for an impromptu football game, or any other reason for that matter. It didn't even seem like they wanted to be involved anyway, Whitman especially. Whitman wanted to know if they were doing it for Muggle Studies and Hoult, sure they should be hurt and muddied by now. This was not at all the morning Lucas had in mind, even with the Beauxbaton boy neutral presence or Dodd's Head Boy authority.

"I'm better at football," Lucas shrugged, still unsure if staying was a good idea or not, but he let Avalon tug him over anyway. If they really were doing three on three, he'd rather Dodd or the American sounding Beauxbaton boy than having to rely on either of the Slytherins in question. It was only then that Lucas realized that he didn't actually know the other boys name, despite recognizing his face around the castle. "I'm Norwood," he offered to the Beauxbaton boy. "Lucas, but most just call me Norwood."