Blake Knight never had trouble sneaking into the Slytherin common room if he so needed. That was the benefit of being a twin and also being the other half of one who was not as smart or perceptive as he was. Every year, whether he wanted to know or even had use for it or not, he had been privy to the password for Salazar's House. Of course, he had never really had cause to use it or even let on to his brothers that he knew. Playing dumb or as if he did not care worked wonders for covering up the faux pas of loose lips.

On this particular day, Blake actually had a reason for sneaking into "enemy" territory. It was Callum's birthday and Blake wanted to deliver the "gifts" that he had in person. But doing so in public was simply not an option, seeing as Callum really didn't like being seen in his company and the feeling was mutual as far as Blake was concerned. But Blake also didn't want to give his older brother a forum in which to ridicule his sentiments.

Because try as he might, Blake could not bring himself to not give his brother nothing at all or to give him something cruel or meaningless at that. He had gotten Callum a legitimate gift because he genuinely cared about him. The meaning of the gift itself spoke to the side of Callum that not many people saw but Blake was quite receptive to.

Of course, that was usually before Callum did something to make one eat one's words. Which was why Blake's own dormmates questioned the logic in giving Callum anything at all. The fact that Blake was giving one of the most disliked individuals in school something of meaning was cause for some ribbing. And part of Blake did see where they were coming from.

Which was why he had come prepared with a second gift should the encounter with Callum go sour. Even Blake was not so niave to overlook Callum's ability to be cruel at the drop of a hat.

In order to further his plan of sneaking into the Slytherin common room, Blake had worn the bulkiest clothes he owned, considering his twin was a little stockier than he was. He also fiddled around with his hair and tested out some menacing glares in the mirror, attempting to mimick the facial expressions of Harold, even though he felt silly doing so. Satisfied that he was ready, with gifts stowed strategically in his hoodie pockets and his hood flipped up, Blake headed out of the Raven's nest.

After what felt like a few short moments later, Blake found himself inside the common room that the rest of his siblings called home. To him, it was hardly inviting at all. But perhaps it was a place that grew on a person the longer they were around it. Blake had no intentions of feeling at home in this place.

There weren't very many people in the room at all and even those who were there doing something productive chose to pick up and leave at the sight of a Knight closeby. With a shrug, Blake took a seat to wait. Quickly becoming bored, he saw a discarded Daily Prophet nearby and picked it up. His first instinct was to read the news sections, but he silently chastised himself that Harold would likely never want to do that. So Blake flipped to the sports section and began a deliberate perusal (something else Harold was probably likely never to do) of the major stories. All the while, he had one eye on the look out for the familiar figure of his oldest brother.

Callum was the eldest of quite a few children, and even though he had been around his twin brothers his entire life, often times the Slytherin boy had a very difficult time telling them apart. Considering that there was a twin sitting in his common room, Callum naturally assumed it was the one who belonged in his house. Why would his Ravenclaw brother be hanging out in the Slytherin common room after all? So, when Callum came back up to check and see if any new presents had arrived by owl in his dormitory while he had been gone, he didn't stop to consider that it might not be Harold sitting in the chair.

"Hullo!" he greeted brightly, flopping down into a seat nearby, presents forgotten (for the moment). "Reading?" he asked, quirking a brow before snatching away the paper. "Come now, brother of mine, don't want you turning into your bookwormish other half, now do we?" with that, Callum crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire. He doubted that Harold had been reading it, anyway. Harold was probably staring at it, trying to make sense of it.

In all honest, Callum had nothing against bookworms. He actually enjoyed classes, even though he bemoaned it loudly and quite often to save face. Callum did well in his classes, he worked hard to do well in those classes, and actually spent time in the library on a regular basis attempting to study and keep up with things. Even though all of these things were true, his brutish nature caused others to believe otherwise, and generally he was okay with that. Being a geek would make him weak, and weakness was not permissable in the house of Slytherin and most certainly not permissable in the Knight family. It was why Blake was often a punching bag for the rest of his brothers.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Callum grinned broadly at his little brother. "So, you haven't forgotten what today is, have you?" he asked, smile growing wider. It was odd to see Callum smile when he wasn't being cruel. Others would be shocked to see it. "Mum and Dad sent me a nice chunk of change," reaching into his pocket he pulled out a heavy cinched bag and bounced it in his palm a few times, the coins clinking together loudly. "Enough to feed a poor, mudblood family for years."

As Callum flopped down into his seat and Blake heard his older brother make the derogatory jab, not knowing that he was sitting right there hearing it, he considered carefully his next move. There was no denying that Callum's constant put downs were difficult to hear under normal circumstances. Even as non combative as Blake tended to be, they did manage to get under his skin and he did feel an ever growing desire to put his older brother in his place or get the better of him in some way. But often they were fleeting thoughts that fell away.
 
Reacting to them now was not exactly the best thing to do if he wanted to maintain his cover. But then there was also the question of whether to maintain his cover for much longer. Whether Blake fully realized all the benefits or not in that very moment, the fact that he could get away with infiltrating Callum's domain whenever he wanted and have hardly anyone, even his brother, know the difference, was quite a powerful tool to have in his arsenel. But Blake understood that he needed to wield that kind of power wisely. Because he loathed his twin and had never wanted to pretend to be him in the past, to do so now meant there was a good reason. Delivering Callum's gift seemed to fit the bill.
 
Other than that, he couldn't allow anyone to think that he actually wanted to be mistaken for Harold. After a moment of staring blankly at Callum, Blake finally gathered himself for a response. He decided to come clean and reveal who he really was. Reaching up, he lowered his hoodie so that his face was not quite as obscured. In the most even and blaze tone he could manage, he said, "No, we would not want Harold turing into me." Even without saying those words, Blake knew that Callum was not a complete dolt and he could probably already see the subtle differences in his expression that indicated he was Blake and not Harold. "And no, I have not forgotten what today is. In fact, that's why I'm here at all." He didn't elaborate, as in Blake's mind, less was more. Again, dwelling too much on the fact that he had been able to pretend to be Harold would allow a future advantage to slip away. It was best to draw attention away from it.
 
So Blake reached into his pocket and withdrew a simplistic looking oak box. It was not exeptionally long or large, but it was sizeable enough to store a custom made and monogramed quill set. Even as Callum glowed about the money that their parents had sent him, something told Blake that his brother might appreciate the fact that someone put a little more effort into a gift for him. But not only that, Blake's gift was a testament to how much he paid attention to his brother, even with all of his faults.
 
Blake held out the unadorned box towards Callum and the corner of his mouth turned in a half smile. With as much affection as would probably be mustered or deemed appropriate, he quietly offered, "Happy Birthday, big bro."

Callum Knight's initial reaction upon learning it was not the Slytherin half of the twins sitting in his common room was to lash out violently. He wanted to put Blake in a headlock, give him the worst noogie of his life, hex him, and then turn him into the proper authorities. However, Blake produced a present rather quickly after divulging his true identity and it immediately placated the older brother. Gifts and flattery were the best way to get on his good side, and Blake had done bother. (The flattery had been a bit inadvertent, the fact that his brother had gotten him a gift was flattering. Callum knew that Blake didn't exactly get along with him or fit into the family, so it meant a lot- although he would never, ever admit it.)

As much as he might have disliked Blake at times, there was no denying that his younger sibling had a keen eye for discovering the softer sides of his personality. Most people did not acknowledge or recognize the fact that Callum was not a complete barbarian. He had an intelligent side and a sharp mind, and it was written off based on his other personality traits. So, when he opened the quill set, he was genuinely touched.

Callum couldn't stop the smile that twitched at the corners of his lips as his fingers carefully traced over the quill set. It was thoughtful, and it was something that Callum knew Blake had probably thought about. Even so, the boy was not well versed in being sentimental, and was silent for a few moments as he tried to muddle out exactly what was the appropriate thing to say and how to thank his brother properly without getting entirely too mushy.

"These are really nice," Callum finally opted to say, looking at his brother, still smiling. It was a rare bonding moment between the two. Generally it was only obvious they were related when other people tried to mess with him. Blake might not be his favorite person, but Blake was his brother, and the only people allowed to mess with him were his other brothers. That was just how things worked. "Thanks, Blake. I really like them." A genuine thank you. Callum couldn't remember the last time he was polite, unless he was trying to impress a girl. "I guess sometimes it's nice to know that you aren't the only Knight with a brain, eh?" he asked. "You know, if we could tough you up a bit you wouldn't be half bad," Callum told him. It was the closest thing to praise he could really manage.

Blake got a certain amount of pleasure out of watching his brother's face to see his reaction when he  realized who was really sitting there before him. He was prepared for some retaliation but he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Blake's motives for being there really were good ones and he hoped that wouldn't be overlooked. At least not too soon.

His intentions were likely helped by his act of bearing a gift. And instead of watching his reaction about his presence, Blake turned to watching his brother's reaction to his choice in presents. Blake was fairly confident that Callum would appreciate it, even if he didn't want to admit it openly.
although he would never, ever admit it.

Which was why when Callum expressed himself simply, Blake accepted it. He looked down at his feet and nodded. "You're welcome, Callum. I thought you might get some use out of them with your OWLs coming up this year."

Blake quirked a smile when his brother spoke about being brainy and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Callum next spoke of toughening him up. Finally raising his eyes to his brother's face, Blake informed him lightly, "Yeah, well....I think I'm doing pretty well in the tough department. Or well enough." He paused. "I mean....I made the Ravenclaw Quidditch team." Blake left out the fact that he was slated to be a bench warming reserve. Callum didn't need to know that just yet. He'd find out soon enough when the two house teams competed against each other. "That makes me a little tough, right?"

OWLs? Ugh. He had almost forgotten about those dreadful things. Callum had no doubt he would be prepared, and that he would also do a very good job at it, but he still didn't like the idea of having the stress for them. It wasn't long before he'd have to do studying, whether he got picked on her not. His library time might actually be so much other people noticed. That was an awful thought. "You've got good taste," he told Blake. "I don't think any of our brothers would manage something that I would actually like." Actually, neither Harold or Darren had gotten him anything. His little sister, though, had bought him a new journal. He liked his little sister. She was the best.

"You made quidditch?" Callum was stunned. He wasn't certain whether he was supposed to be happy for his brother (a part of him was) or pissed off that Blake would dare to join a team that he was going to have to fight. How did his wimpy little brother make the quidditch team? He thought that Ravenclaw was full up, anyway. And now he'd be playing with Schlagenweit. Callum absolutely loathed Schlagenweit, he didn't want the ponce ruining his little brother anymore than he already was. He wondered if his parents knew about this. Certainly his mother wouldn't want sensitive, gentle Blake in such a sport.

"I s'pose now I just have an excuse to kick your arse within the rules. Don't think I'll take it easy on you out there. I plan to nail you with as many bludgers as is humanly possible. And trust me, my aim is spectacular." What if Blake beat him? What if Blake's team won? That would be unacceptable. Harold and Darren would never quit reaming him for it, and the last thing that he wanted was his entire house poking fun at him because his dopey little brother managed to beat them at quidditch. Maybe he would just have to talk Blake out of it. Perhaps some physical coercion?

Propping his feet up on a table, he shrugged at Blake. "I don't know if it makes you tough or not. Depends on your position. And it depends on whether or not you cry and quit after a bludger gives you a good wallop in the head a few times." Blake would quit. Callum would see to it. He had already decided he didn't like it. No need to let his brother know that, though. He could pretend to be okay with it and be a good brother for a while until he figured out the best way to make Blake chicken out.

"Have you told mum?" he asked. "I had to beg for weeks to get her permission. I hope you didn't forget to ask. She'll hang you by your toes when we go home for Christmas. Or she'll have me do it for her here." Wouldn't that be nice, Callum in charge of punishing his little brother? He liked that idea. "I couldn't tell her no, you know. Even if you have redeemed yourself- at least a little bit."

Blake simply continued watching his brother's expression and wondered what he was thinking. There were many things he didn't understand about his brothers life and he wasn't sure he wanted to understand. But he admitted it was nice getting a compliment from him or as much as there could be one coming from Callum's mouth. And there wasn't much more Blake could ask of him in that regard.

Blake was reveling in that compliment when Callum questioned his making quidditch. The younger Knight did not anticipate that news going over without scrutiny. Of course Callum would have a problem with him making the team; there was a good chance he could be embarrassed.

Blake smirked when his brother mentioned having a reason to beat up on him. He didn't expect that Callum would take it any easier on him playing quidditch than he usually did. Blake felt that the sport might actually level the playing field a bit. Blake felt compelled to respond to Callum's claim that his aim was spectacular by boasting about his own. Blake repressed the urge because he didn't play cocky very well and preferred to let his actions do the talking.

But Blake tried not to look smug when he informed Callum of the position he would play, again conveiently omitting that he was currently just a reserve. "I'll be a beater." After a pause, he added, "And I can handle a lot. I doubt getting hit by a bludger is really going to be a big deal." With a slight raise of his brows, Blake quietly challenged, "Afterall, by your own admission, you've beaten up on me quite often. I think I'm well prepared, big brother."

Blake felt pretty proud of himself for that little jab until Callum brought up their mother. He narrowed his blue flecked eyes and shot back, "No, I haven't told mum. I really didn't think she'd mind, actually, seeing as you are already doing it." He gave a shrug just as casual as Callum's. "And since when does anyone care about what Blake does?"

Blake knew his tone was getting defensive. And if he was a first year, he mwould have been easily intimidated by Callum's words and his threats. In some ways, he was still scared of the ramifications of his parents, notably his father, being unhappy with something he did.

But there was really nothing he could do to completely please them anyway.

And so he was determined to not let Callum scare him into not playing. Crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, he mockingly declared, "Go ahead and tell her, Callum. But when did you become such a tattle tale?"

Beater? Blake could not play beater. Beater was Callum's position. He was the Knight who played beater. He was the one who was good at quidditch. Athletic, smart, everything. Blake couldn't be Athletic and Smart. It wasn't fair. His father and his mother loved him because he was the whole package. Blake couldn't have the chance to rise in the eyes of his parents or his family. No one would expect him to be athletic and smart. Now all Callum had going for him was birth order. Preposterous. He would do something about it.

"Me roughing you up a little bit, in a loving, brotherly fashion is nowhere near the same as getting beamed by a bludger. I don't hit with that much force or speed." Maybe he'd have to learn, or play a dirty game of quidditch. Callum wasn't above hitting a bludger at Blake when he wasn't expecting it, or if he was on the bench. There would probably be a penalty, but it would be hilarious. Blake would get hurt, and it would help his team. Yep, it was time to drop kick his brother back into his place.

"They do care what you're doing," Callum commented. "They especially care what you are not doing. And even with your... Well, with your inability to accept life for what it is for people like us, they like to know what you're doing. Besides, you know how our mother is. She likes to be involved in everything. If it took me that long to get permission and I'm a strapping young lad, it will take you twice as long." Not that it mattered. If he'd already been accepted, their dad would step in and say yes. Their dad would be shocked and would let him play, hoping it would help to make Blake a man. He had only been hesitant to allow Callum because he was worried it would get his older son in trouble. Callum knew this. Blake had also probably suspected it himself if he was as smart as he seemed to be.

Being called a tattle tale did nothing to help Callum's suddenly sour disposition at learning his borther was honing in on his territory. Quidditch was his territory. The library was Blake's territory. He would have a lot of plotting to do to take care of this one. "Just don't come crying to me when you get demolished out there. You're not really beater material. Chaser or seeker, now that I could see. You're thin. Good to move fast. But beater? You haven't got any muscles."

"If you want some muscle, I could help you out." As he said it, Callum began to form a plan in his mind as to how it could be used against him. Purposefully giving him wrong advice, feed him potions that should help but make it worse, get him in trouble for having potions that he shouldn't be having... So many possibilities. "Girls like muscles," he added. "It could help you land chicks, too, when you get older."

Blake's features darkened considerably at his brother's threats about how his time playing quidditch might be. Blake was no fool to think that he would get through the game unscathed. He was fully aware of how bludgers had a life of their own at times. But he was tougher than he looked or at least he liked to believe he was. It just took the right situation for his mettle to really be tested.

His anger and annoyance always seemed to be spurned by Callum. Funny how that seemed to happen so readily with Callum and was remarkably vacant around some others. The love-hate relationship between them was hard to escape. Callum was always putting Blake down and Blake always was looking for the opportunity to prove him wrong, never certain it was a feat achievable.

"Thanks for your confidence," Blake finally said to Callum. His tone clearly held a sarcastic edge to it. "But I'm sure I'll manage the game just fine." Blake didn't mention that his brother was forgetting how much of a strategist he was and how all that could be used against Callum and his Slytherin teammates. No, giving Callum the heads up would just be pointless. And nice.

And Blake was getting tired of being nice. It seemed to be getting him nowhere fast, as was evident by Callum's ragging on him about how he was clearly not living up to their family expectations. The icing on the cake was the bit about their mother, the lone softspot Blake had for their family and Callum knew that. And from there, Callum's insults were accumulating at a rapid pace.

"I'll be fine with the muscles I have for now," Blake bit out tersley. He was sure Callum believed it was a noble gesture on his part to offer to help, but the younger Knight was not really interested in being brawny. There would be plenty of time for him to work on all that. And he wasn't exactly jumping at the idea of impressing girls. The ones who really mattered would be fine with how he was now or even how he would be. Right?

Blake decided that things were not going well at this point and figured it might be best to leave. With a sigh, he stood up and reached up to flip his hood over his dark hair once more. He then slipped his hands into his pockets and his fingers slipped around another box, holding the second, less sentimental gift for his older brother.

Blake debated whether to use it or not. To do so would undoubtibly create a game-on mentality between the two brothers, but he also believed that it would prove to Callum once and for all that he wasn't going to back down or be easily intimidated by whatever threats he threw around. Blake was not an ickle firstie anymore.

Withdrawing the box, Blake bent over and slid it onto the nearest table in the common room. "I forgot to give you the other gift. I hope you enjoy it as much as the quills." With a challenging raise of his brows, the younger Knight stood to his full height again and cooly offered, "Thanks for the chat, Bro. As always, I'm enlightened beyond compare by your advice."

Returning his hand to his now empty pocket, Blake backed up three steps before turning and heading towards the door of the Slytherin common room. As he exited, the words, "See ya on the pitch!" echoed behind him.

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OOC: Feel free to end the thread with your next post. In the box is a dead mouse/rat!