It was a cold winter night when Church and Jeanette left the party and stepped into his car. It had been rather enjoyable, but he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he was out of place. So many Muggles that went to her school that he had never met; all of whom had plenty of questions about where he went. And lying was never something Church enjoyed. But luckily for him Jeanette was clever enough to pick up on that. So casually she made her excuses and gently took his hand and led him out the door, softly saying something about her parents not being home and alone time.

As she led him upstairs to her room, a room that he was fairly familiar with given how long they'd been together, everything seemed to go hazy. The seen shifted suddenly.

Church now found himself walking down the sidewalk in the mid-afternoon of a warm spring day,  a letter gently held in a hand that felt oddly numb. He took his time as he made his way down the rows of houses, doing his best to seem as if there was nothing wrong at all. Slowly but surely he came upon the street he had been headed for, down the walkway he knew so well, up to the door he remembered vividly, to the house he spent so much time in when he wasn't at school.

Without a word he made sure the letter was well sealed, and placed it on the front steps. And then, he left. There were no more words that needed to be said. And silently, as if he were a shadow, Church began making his way home.

Wham! Church gasped and opened his eyes with a start. Confused for a moment, he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. The Hogwarts Express. He was sitting in between two cars, knees to his chest, leaning against the wall. Had he really fallen asleep? That was bad, imagine if someone he pretended to care about had seen him. How would explain that.

Quickly he stood and straightened his clothes out. With one motion he pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his hair, debating whether or not he needed to cut it; it had been a few months. Idly Church glanced out the window and tried to think about what he had been dreaming of, almost wishing he was wrong in his memory. It had been almost six months since he had last seen her. And yet, he remembered her as if she had just left the room. Her scent, her smile, her taste... ugh. 'Stop dwelling on it.' he thought to himself.

Giving a slight sigh, Church turned towards one of the car doors and pulled it open. Not paying any particular attention, he fiddled with the leather bracelet around his wrist. And walked full on into someone.

Outfit.

Murphy hadn't cared her fifth year had ended. She never cared when a school year ended. Of course, she'd awkwardly shuffle about in her neighborhood, avoiding a certain someone at all costs. And she'd be alone most nights and generally faced the threat of a breaking and entering. And then there was also the threat of herself being caught by the cops, as she had a bad habit of running around at night, painting on walls and adding color to the stained concrete of Glasgow. Some could call Murphy reckless, but there were plenty of worse things she could be doing around her neighborhood. Murphy had seen and done some rather harsh activities, enough to maybe even snap her father out of his undead trance. Like that was really possible. But even though Murphy was safer at Hogwarts, she felt nothing when she came and left. She supposed, in the end, she'd miss it all. The beautiful grounds, the diverse population, her friends that would probably never owl her after school ended...

She had sat in a compartment with a few of the friendlier girls from Gryffindor. They were crying, claiming they were going to miss it. As if it were their last train ride home. Murphy's gaze attempted not to land in their general direction, only tearing away from the window whenever a rowdy graduate passed by. She hated looking at people crying. She didn't know how to comfort people. She, herself, had never been comforted her whole life. Murphy was never taught how to show compassion or how to cheer someone up. She never even had to cheer herself up anymore. She was a walking callous, hard to the core and virtually painless. Of course, hearing the girls gurgle and slur their depression away was really disturbing Murphy. Who the hell cries over going home? No homework and no Professors telling them what to do. C'mon. Murphy realized that not everyone had a neglectful father like she did, but there was nothing to cry about.

After another long moment of sobbing and cradling each other, one of the girls turned to Murphy and started to lean on her shoulder when Murphy rose to her feet. She needed air, she needed to see someone, she needed to stretch her legs, she needed to get the hell out of there and away from them. The last thing Murphy wanted was to be around depressed girls who expected her to help them. She thought by now that her own classmates would realize she wasn't the most open, cuddly person. Looking down at the girl's teary eyes made Murphy uneasy and shaky. She realized, at that moment, she didn't want to be responsible for helping someone. She would make a crappy mother. She would hate her own children and she'd make sure they never asked her for anything. Murphy realized she sounded like her mother and pushed that thought aside. She excused herself from the compartment and closed the door behind her, gently.

The compartments were all full of the same faces. The students who were excited for summer, the students who were crying over leaving the school, the students who shared the same empty expression as Murphy. She passed by them, slowly, catching plenty of dirty looks as she passed by. Murphy was known around the school now as the girl who would "buy a haunted house." Presumably on purpose. At first, she wasn't sure if people were insulting her intelligence, as in, "She's so dumb, she'd buy a haunted house." But as she spoke to people about it, everyone was mostly calling her weird. Weird enough to buy a haunted house. So she was the weirdo of the school. So what? She preferred being nameless, mostly because she didn't like attention, but being a freak also meant a lot of people would go out of their way to avoid her in order to keep their reputation clean and pure. Because those problems matter.

Murphy didn't care for social rank. Mostly because she had always been a nobody. A mudblood with old, paint stained clothes and a boyish disposition. A nobody. Not to mention, Murphy didn't generally come off friendly, which made her lack friends. If she came off friendly in her neighborhood, that was giving the inhabiting teenagers a reason to pick on her and assault her. Murphy had gotten quite the reputation around her neighborhood. Not only was she allegedly a whore, but she had quite a fight in her. And a kick that could break a ginger kid's rib if she's pushed into a fence and threatened with a meaty fist for her pocket change. Murphy wasn't afraid of anything, especially not a gang of thugs or a couple of jerks with time on their hands. If she didn't have that name stamped onto her, she'd be dead in the street upon stepping foot outside her front door. Well, that was exaggerating it. But she did live around shady folk who knew better than to mess with her.

She suddenly felt the urge to paint. Or, at least, draw. Draw the faces she saw in the compartment windows. They'd all be the same. Every one of them. They'd be pathetic, sad, confused, excited, and empty. Murphy wondered sometimes why people even tried to seem normal. She felt like she was staring at robots. She realized she thought in cliches.

But her train of thought was interrupted when a boy suddenly emerged from his compartment. Murphy had attempted to step back, but he smacked right into her like she was hardly there. To stop herself from flying backward, she dug her black painted nails into his shoulder. "Oi!" She started, "Watch yourself, aw'right?" She retracted her claws once she felt she was on stable ground and let her hand fall to her side. She glared down at the boy, who she didn't recognize. Probably an younger student, judging from his height. Still trying to figure out that silly thing called puberty. Then again, so was the Care of Magical Creatures professor. There weren't many things that peeved Murphy as much as a student who knocked into her. For one, she was thin as hell and easy to avoid. Second, she was tall and blocked people's views. Unless they were towers, they would be able to see her.

But even with her sharp tongue waiting to slice the boy open, she had the decency to add, "Sorry about your shoulder, mate. It was reflex."

Moderately shocked that anyone was wandering around the train right now, Church looked up vaguely at the girl who had clawed into his shoulders. It didn't hurt, in particular; it wasn't more painful than anything he'd endured. No, it was more of the fact that another human was laying their hands upon him that caused him to recoil. He hated being touched, and only one girl had ever managed to keep him from flinching at it.

"Sorry," Church said in his rich tenor voice, eyes slowly drifting up to meet hers. "And, meh, I'm used to stuff more painful than that," he added through a yawn. Rolling his shoulder once, Church took a step out the door and leaned against the wall, eyes analizing the figure in front of him. It didn't take more than a second to recognize her as Murphy Urquhart. Go figure that she was the one wandering the train.

"So how'd the OWLs go for you?" Church asked casually, not sure whether he actually cared about the answer. "I remember last year when I took 'em people went ridiculous with their stress," he gave a slight sneer. "Not that I see why. But of course I got O's on six of them."

Church shrugged and leaned his head back against the wall. He hated having to act so arrogant. But that's probably what she expected out of him, assuming she knew who he was. And for the sake of appearances he couldn't for a second look like he was anything different than the facade he be came so used to.

The boy apologized. Good. That was a very welcoming sign. Murphy could recall countless times of boys running into her and never even acknowledging her existence. But her tense demeanor didn't die down. Murphy knew better than to loosen up just because a little apology. Johnny taught her that. He was the master at disappointing her after an apology. Of course, all ex-girlfriends said that about their relationships. Murphy hated to fit that stereotype of hating her ex, but she did. A whole lot. And made sure she made direct eye contact with him every time she saw him so she'd be alpha wolf in her neighborhood. Johnny never stared back, he always got uneasy around her. Most likely because he knew he was a dirty liar. And because Murphy had a very unsettling, wide-eyed stare. Which she had oh so graciously placed upon the boy in front of her. Not out of intimidation, but out of habit when she was around unfamiliar men.

And this boy was completely unfamiliar to her, no matter what anybody said. She had never seen him in her life.

"And, meh, I'm used to stuff more painful than that,"

Murphy's head slightly jolted to the side. The urge to respond with something snarky suddenly lined her lips. What was he on about? She felt like he was trying to come off as tough and hardcore, when Murphy had already considered and debated and concluded that she could take him, as long as he didn't bite. But he looked like a bit of a biter. It was a look in his eyes. Basically, Murphy took his statement as a red flag and tensed up even more. "Oh my, you sure sound like a pretty wicked guy, now don'cha?" Murphy's sarcasm voice sounded exactly like her regular voice. Whether the boy picked up on it or not would rely on the fact if he were intelligent enough. He could have actually been smart, for all Murphy knew. But it took a special kind of someone to say such a statement, play off their pain, and lean against a doorway like a hooker waiting for a bribe. She supposed she was just judging her prematurely. Perhaps he was just simply stating he gets hurt often, like a Quidditch player or he had rowdy younger siblings, and he was simply tired and that was why he was leaning and yawning. Murphy didn't buy her own rationality, but she kept in mind that she couldn't just slice into students whenever she felt like it.

She had a particularly bad habit of stating people's flaws and what she thought was wrong with them. A critical viewpoint in life. Murphy Urquhart could write a column in a paper and nobody could ever tell her that she was wrong because she always stated the truth. Just... In... Very rude ways. She was working on that aspect about herself. Everyone who knew Murphy knew that she was actually very sweet. She just had a very cold standpoint and made unsettling remarks here and there.

And then he went and spoke to her like he knew her. Maybe he did, Murphy didn't know. Surprisingly, a lot of people knew who Murphy was and she had no idea what she did to become known. But she didn't know him. And it should have been obvious already that he was dancing on unfriendly grounds. Murphy had done rather well on her OWLs, considering she was an average student. She was quite the talent when it came to CoMC and she did rather well in DADA. But that was probably just pure luck. Murphy could flunk out of school and she wouldn't care, really. She would work at a bookstore or a coffee shop and paint and live and be free and alone. Forever. She had heard word that the Head Boy was opening up a bookstore in Hogsmeade and she was considering asking him to save her a position when she got out of school. But she hardly knew the guy and he was very large and look unfriendly despite what people said about him. He seemed to be afraid of women.

The Gryffindor was completely doubtful that the boy had any interest in her OWLs and stayed quiet. He gave off a dirty face and spewed out, "Not that I see why. But of course I got O's on six of them."

Murphy's eyes, which had been planted onto the ground for a while, narrowed and flicked up to the boy in front of her. She couldn't believe the arrogance that was radiating from him. She was disgusted. Completely disgusted. No boy should ever be so smug about OWLs. They simply weren't brag worthy, especially since they were retakable. She was the embodiment of unimpressed. Her fingers tightened into skinny fists and she let out a long stream of hot air through her nostrils. It was calm. Murphy never let herself fly into rage. Her lips parted,

"I'm sorry. Who are you?" She asked him, before quickly adding, "No. Seriously. Who are you? I think I've met five different guys a lot like you, and they've been asking for their bloody personalities back," Murphy didn't even feel like she was being harsh at that point. "Do you really think that's a proper first impression? Oh, yeah, I'm used to feeling worse pain than that. I like to have my ass handed to me every week or two so. It brings out my masculinity. You know, makes me tough and the ladies enjoy it. Oh, and, to prove I'm intelligent, me gots six OWLs. I felt the need to tell you that, even if you didn't ask me, because I'm so goddamn cool I don't need to be asked. Merlin is my best friend and I invented the wand. Dur hur. I'm sorry. That little play of yours that you just preformed clearly doesn't work on people who don't give a crap. And I don't give a crap, especially not with that ugly ego of yours." She began to trot forward, to continue her little walk and to get the hell away from whoever he was, but then she paused...

"Me name's Murphy Urquhart, by the way. And I'm sorry, I guess I didn't catch yours. It would be nice to know so I know who I need to avoid running into on the train."

A smile began to cross Church's lips as the girl ranted at him due to his foe arrogance. Interesting seeing someone who actually admitted they didn't care, as opposed to pretending and doing their best to act all impressed. Even better she wasn't one of those ridiculous girls who was impressed. And He found himself enjoying her much more with every angry word.

"Church Marty Comer the Third," he said with a slight nod and added; "If only to spite my father." A few people, such as Jeanette and his mother always wondered why he kept his fathers name. In truth he wasn't sure. A good part of it was in fact to spite his father. A sort of 'fuck you' to him. Put Church could hardly deny that it was also because he actually wanted his father to love him, and that thought horrified him.

"Now normally I'd counter what you said, if only to infuriate you more, but..." Church pushed off the wall and stretched. "I actually enjoy the cold apathy you've got going on. Because you're quite right, you really shouldn't give a damn," he smiled and ran a hand through his hair, eyes once again scanning the girl called Murphy.

Naturally he remembered her name, if only because he remembered her sorting. But since then he wasn't sure he'd seen her except in passing. Church wouldn't necessarily say she was pretty, but then again he almost never noticed if someone was physically attractive right away. Personality always outweighed physical looks for him. However in this case he had to admit, Murphy had quite pretty eyes. Even if they were fixed into a glare. Good God why was he even thinking like that?

"I guess what I'll say," Church went on, now standing and actually facing her. "Is that surface appearances are generally deceiving." He gave a shrug and crossed his arms. "For instance, who knows, maybe this casual arrogance is merely a mask, and I'm actually some terribly depressed soul for various reason." Which was the truth.

"Or say you met a girl. Or I guess, boy in your case," he continued for no apparent reason, thinking back on his ex. "And for all the world they seemed like a nice person. Looked past all your faults, loved you wholly for all of them, never held them against you," Church gave a sigh. "And then!" he spat, suddenly angry, slamming the side of his fist into the fall. "It turns out she's really just a complete bitch and drops you like you were nothing. A year and a half wasted on a girl who was simply impatient!"

For a moment Church stood there, glowering. This was probably the first time he had ever felt rage towards Jeanette. God dammit why couldn't he stop thinking about her? With a sudden realization of what he had just said, Church looked up quickly and tried for a second to regain his composure. "Ah, shit," he muttered, finally giving up and slouching against the wall. "What's the point?"

Murphy didn't exactly recognize his name, either. She would have remembered someone named Church. Of course, she had absolutely no room to say anything about his odd name. Murphy, after all, was mistaken for a boy whenever someone first heard heard her name. Church wasn't so bad. It was odd and uncommon. She wasn't sure if it sounded boyish or feminine, so whether someone thought it was a chick name really mattered on who they were. The fact that he was a third explained his a name a lot more. Murphy knew a lot of students who were the third or so to carry a name. Razzy Chancelier was supposedly a ninth. Normally, those people were purebloods or rich. She rarely met a poor "William Squire the fourth." That would have been Murphy's only issue with his name. He sounded rich and therefore she got uneasy presumptions that he was one of those arrogant rich folk who thought they could buy anything and everything.

He went on about how he liked her coldness and how he wanted to "infuriate" her more. Murphy rolled her eyes at him. "You should probably just stop already," she told him. She felt very uneasy as his eyes slithered around her. What was he thinking? Murphy readied her booted foot to kick him square in the crotch, picking her heel up and pointing her toe. It looked only as if she were just putting the weight on her other leg, casually. Murphy was in defensive mode a little too often, even in safe environments. But she knew there was no such thing as a safe environment, especially not if other people were around. She'd feel safe when she knew for a fact that she was the last person on Earth. Until then, she could be considered a fighting machine. Kind of.

"For instance, who knows, maybe this casual arrogance is merely a mask, and I'm actually some terribly depressed soul for various reason."

That actually cued a cackle from Murphy. Merely a mask? Depressed soul? Depressed soul? No lamer words could have escaped his lips. Murphy knew her fair share of depression and angst, as she was probably the poster child for it. But she found it laughable when someone, especially some bloke she didn't know, tried to play themselves off as a tormented soul of darkness and that they masked their inner selves in fear of showing weakness. He was joking, obviously. He had to be. "Please," she finally composed herself, "please tell me you're just wearing a mask. Because no one should be as big of a tool as you pretend to be. And don't call it casual arrogance; you're ridiculous. It's not casual, it's superfluous. It's enough to make me wonder if you are socially inept." She shook her head and crossed her skinny arms across her chest, wrapping her long fingers around her forearms.

"It's pathetic, anyhow. Whether it's a front of not, you're a loser. A bigger loser than me, and I'm the definition of loser," her sternness was dying down. She was simply joking by then, completely drained of the anger she had felt. She didn't stay angry for long, not even with people who peeved her. But that didn't mean she was going to let Church off the hook.

"It turns out she's really just a complete bitch and drops you like you were nothing. A year and a half wasted on a girl who was simply impatient!"

... Maybe Murphy had been a bit harsh. She realized that, perhaps, he was previously upset and was just trying to get his mind off things. Or maybe he had just gotten through a bad breakup and wanted someone to make him feel better about himself, even if that meant bragging about useless shit like OWLs. She suddenly felt selfish, and rather cruel. Though she would never put on a front like that, if someone tore into her when she was feeling down, she would... She wouldn't know what to do with herself. She had been selfish. Pretending that her truth was the truthest of truths and that he was so lame, oh my gosh, and he was like, totally, short. She felt like those mean Slytherin girls that went around bullying people because they weren't stylish. She felt like she needed to stop and rethink how she spoke to people. That was why Murphy hated talking to people. She was rude and nasty and she never thought of anyone but herself and she was only spewing crap out because she felt the need to tear someone down to her own level. Murphy Urquhart hated herself. Who was she to talk down to Church? She didn't know him. He was probably just reaching out to someone. He was desperate enough to even open up to Murphy.

The worst part, however, was that she felt like she needed to comfort him. And that was exactly why she had left her compartment in the first place... She was rubbish at cheering people up.

She stayed quiet for a moment, blue eyes flashing around his expression before dropping to the ground. "Okay," she said, simply. Murphy understood what he was on about. She knew how it felt to have a shit ex, and it was still heartbreaking even after so long. Murphy took Johnny's words to heart. She was a slag, a nobody, a loser. And while she still felt alone with her problems, it was a bit comforting to see that she wasn't the only person getting caught up in her past. Her sharp tongue eased down, back into its sheath. She would leave his ego alone. For now. She tapped her foot and let out a slow breath.

"Right. Well. There, there," she mumbled, uneasily, "Perhaps, um. Perhaps you should sit down, yeah? I can, um. I can sit with you if you need someone to talk to. Or not. Just... Um. Sorry."

"Right. Well. There, there," she mumbled, uneasily, "Perhaps, um. Perhaps you should sit down, yeah? I can, um. I can sit with you if you need someone to talk to. Or not. Just... Um. Sorry."

The words made him flinch.

"Oh, God," Church sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. "Look," he said quietly, tilting his head and gazing over his glasses. "While I appreciate the gesture, I'm not really one to talk to anyone about my problems. Nothing personal, I simply loathe burdening people with my problems." Thinking for a moment that sounded arrogant, Church quickly amended his words. "Maybe... if I knew you better... Maybe then I'd feel comfortable to talk to you about some of it."

He shrugged and eyed the girl. She seemed much more uncomfortable and... shy, he supposed, than before. Why would that be, though? It seemed strange to think that she actually felt guilty for what she had said to him. But Church had no other way to describe what he was seeing.  How curious that she would suddenly shift, and he wondered how similar the two may actually be.

And now he started feeling guilty as well. "But..." Church started slowly. Pushing off the wall, he let the word hang there as he stepped slightly closer, looking up at her. "But, if you really want to know. I'm sure I can abridge it on the fly," He shrugged and turned around, stepping back towards the compartment.

"Besides, I wouldn't mind the company."

"Maybe... if I knew you better... Maybe then I'd feel comfortable to talk to you about some of it."

Murphy felt relieved. That was hell of a lot easier than she thought it would be. "Okay, good," she mumbled, hardly thinking about whether she would be hurting his feelings. Murphy wouldn't be very impressed with him if he was hurt, however. But she wouldn't have been impressed if he wasn't. Murphy didn't like sensitive guys, but she learned long ago that the manlier a guy was, and the less they showed emotions, the less Murphy would enjoy their company. She was picky. But Murphy was willing to ignore her own lack of conscience for the sake of making someone feel better. Murphy was quiet and complained a lot and always had the urge to slander and shove people down from their pedestals. But she had the heart and the decency to apologize and make up for her awfulness. Unless whoever she hurt was someone she truly couldn't stand. Even then...

It always went back to Johnny, how she felt about men. And partially her father. While her dad simply neglected her and thought nothing of her, Johnny made sure she knew she was a piece of crap. She never realized how horrible the end of their relationship was until people around town started whispering about her. Murphy didn't mind the looks people gave her. She was just hurt that the Johnny she once knew was turning against her and making sure she knew that he hated her. He didn't respect her. He didn't even respect her when they were together. Just a girl he once shagged and he liked to boast about to his friends. Johnny, since they had broke up, had been with countless other girls. He was a piece of work. He made sure she saw them and she made sure he saw all the shits she truly didn't give. Murphy didn't care that he had so many girls lined up to date him. She didn't care that people saw her differently because of him. It was just him that upset her. His words, his body, his expressions. She was still confused over him. And because of that, Murphy didn't see guys the same. She hardly cared for them to begin with, but it was almost impossible for her to consider a guy handsome anymore.

It went down to personality, mostly. She had thought Vulpes was a lovely little thing until he tried to touch her hand or something of the like. Besides, he was much too happy and a bit stupid for her taste. Intelligence meant a whole lot to Murphy. Most of her close friends were rather smart, like Aiden Young. Erin Harper and his boyfriend didn't seem the brightest school wise, but in the end they were pretty intelligent blokes to talk to. Interesting, to say the least. There were others, but Murphy mainly associated with Aiden and Erin. Mostly Aiden, really. So even as Murphy stared down at the boy in front of her, she couldn't but wonder whether she would regret speaking to him. He already proved to be arrogant and full of shit. But Murphy had to push past that. She readied herself to leave, to continue her walk, and to possibly never see the possibly deranged boy again (seriously, he went into pissed-off mode quicker than anyone else she had ever encountered). She wondered if she could find one of her friends to talk to in one of the compartments. Someone she wouldn't see in a while, that she could talk to before they parted ways for the summer...

"Besides, I wouldn't mind the company."

Of course. Murphy couldn't help but think the guy was a potential serial killer, but she felt responsible for him now. Which was an awful feeling. If she left him, after he asked for her company, after that whole scene, she would feel like an awful person. And while Murphy was an atheist, she would think to herself, "I'm going to hell." She slid her hands into her back pants pockets and eyed the boy once more. Murphy wasn't afraid of being viciously killed on the train. Even then, she still believed she could take him. Challenge accepted.

"Okay," she told him, following him into the compartment obediently. She found herself looking at his glasses a whole lot. Not his eyes, of course. She hated eye contact. But she liked his glasses. They weren't anything to flashy, but they were simple. And Murphy liked simpleness. Which was what she normally only wore t-shirts and jeans. She wondered how odd it seemed that she was stepping into his empty compartment, possibly leading herself to potential death. The strange part was that Murphy was almost welcoming the thought. She wondered what picture they would use in the paper of her. Would she even be in the paper? What would they tell her dad? Would he even care? Would he finally finish pickling his liver and kill himself with alcohol? Murphy had the urge to talk to her father now. To see if he would respond back. They hadn't talked in a very long time... Ever since school began. She would have to drive herself to the station, which was a shitty ride considering she lived in Scotland. But Hogwarts was closer to London, as it seemed. It only took a few hours to get there. Compared to her six hour drive. Because of the ridiculous drive, Murphy simply used the floo network.

Murphy sat down, slowly, across from Church, wide eyes studying his glasses once more before falling to the ground. "You don't have to explain anything to me. It's fine," she told him. In other words, she didn't want to hear about his break up. That sounded much too harsh, which was why she didn't say it. "But um..." She felt awkward, "What house are you from?" She wanted to change the subject.

Church shrugged. Interestingly enough he didn't mind talking about it as much as he thought he did earlier. Which was rather odd. He never felt comfortable talking to anyone. Even Jazz knew the bare minimum about him, and that was mostly because he'd know the girl forever. But even still, Murphy didn't sound all that interested anyway, so Church took the bait.

"Ravenclaw," he said calmly. He wasn't sure what more to say on that matter. Not really anyways. While Church was proud of his house, he never managed to get into the whole 'House Rivalry' mindset. It all seemed to trivial to him. "And for better or worse I'm probably a prime example," Church said rather bitterly. Curiously, while he loved being at least six steps ahead of everyone (ten if you were Huxley), Church didn't actually enjoy being as smart as he was.

It probably hearkened back to his earlier years of life. Where children in the Muggle school he was forced to go to saw intelligence as something bad, to be excluded, insulted. That was likely when he first picked up the mask of being someone he wasn't. And for the most part everyone was too oblivious to notice.

"You're a Gryffindor right?" Church asked even though he already knew the answer. But he wasn't very keen on how to keep the conversation going otherwise. Best to keep talking in hopes it went somewhere. "Is it as fun a house as I imagine?" he made up wildly. "Because while the intellectual challenges my housemates throw at each other are some times interesting, I must admit one grows weary of them after six years."

"Ravenclaw,"

While Murphy's eyebrow rose, skeptical, she nodded and leaned into the back of her seat. She supposed her prior judgment was just her usual harshness. And her condescending stare definitely didn't help her feel less rude. Church could be anybody, Murphy realized. He could have been pretending to be arrogant. And on the other hand, he could be pretending to be calm at that moment, too. Maybe his name wasn't really Church Comer. Maybe he was an escaped convict that boarded the train and wanted to get away from the Aurors... And he just so happened to lure in a fully suspecting, but careless, young girl. He acted more like a Slytherin, anyhow. Pompous and trying to show off their special skills. That was probably what he really was. A small, Asian-looking, arrogant, lying Slytherin. Named something like... Dwayne... Yeah. Dwayne.

"And for better or worse I'm probably a prime example,"

If Murphy's eyebrow could rise any higher, it would have. He was full of shit. There were two things wrong with his statement. First of all, prime example? Murphy would had never guess the little bugger was a Ravenclaw. It almost seemed like he was trying to show off how "intelligent" he was again. There was a difference between being intelligent and claiming to be intelligent. Did he know that? Murphy, for example, was intelligent for the fact that she knew a lot of useless shit that could supposedly get her forward in life (although she didn't care to practice her knowledge all too much.) But she never claimed to be intelligent. After receiving the grades she did, she believed she was average. And she was okay with that. Who was she trying to impress? Her father didn't care, her teachers didn't care, her friends didn't care, she didn't care. She could drop out of school and no one would care. This thought depressed Murphy, but then again, what didn't?

Basically, Comer continued to  fail at impressing her.

Secondly, for better or worse? She understood that Ravenclaw could be considered the nerds of the school, but they prided that, didn't they? Being intelligent was appealing and useful and sexy. And if he was so confident before, wouldn't he be proud to be a so called prime example? And even then, who would be disappointed in being a prime example of their own house? Murphy would be proud to be considered a prime example of Gryffindor. She liked being a Gryffindor. The people were rowdy at times, but they were her people, so it hardly mattered to her. Even if "for better or for worse" was simply a saying, Murphy felt as if she could write an essay on how wrong he was. It would be titled, "For Better or For Worse: Why Church Comer is Wrong." It would have been her doctoral thesis if she went to muggle university. Of course, what muggle university would accept her when her only credentials were "went to primary school and then went to a nonexistent school that you people can't know about else everyone will die."

"You're a Gryffindor right?"

How did he know...? Well, Murphy supposed he simply guessed. "For better or for worse, I'm probably a prime example," she told him with an innocent smirk. Of course, she was only saying that to mess with him. She'd love to be a prime example. But she wasn't. Gryffindors were generally a lot more... Selfless and chivalrous. Murphy was neither. Which was why she couldn't stand cheering people up or being overall generous and a nice person. Not to say Murphy wasn't nice in some aspects, she simply had a very sassy demeanor. And that was probably why she didn't have many friends. But she was courageous and brave and all that. Which was why she was in the house, after all. Not everyone could have all the requirements to be in a house. That would be boring. And Razzy Chancelier would have been unsorted because of lack of personality.

"Is it as fun a house as I imagine?"

She shrugged and swiped a strand of hair from her face, "While you lot challenge each other with your minds, we challenge each other with our fists. Unless you're into that kind of shit, it's not all that grand," she paused, "But it is fun, yes. Never quiet in the common room. Well, hardly at least. Lots of rowdiness and yelling and silliness. I don't mind it, but I'm sure Ravenclaw has its benefit of quietness." And Hufflepuff had its benefit of easy access to food. And Slytherin probably had a lot of weirdos hiding shit in it, which Murphy was always drawn to. Which was also why a lot of her friends were Slytherins, despite being a Gryffindor. That whole rivalry thing wasn't as strong as it used to be, she supposed.

"But if you're picturing partying and booze and all that, you're wrong. It's just a bloody mess, it is. Can't help but love it all, though."

Church noted, albeit silently, the look on her face as he told her what house he was in. Why on earth should that be surprising?

There was a slight roll of the eyes as the girl repeated the same line back to him. Whatever. Church recognized that she probably doubted he was a decent example of a Ravenclaw. Not like it's hard to be one though. Unless being able to think was difficult, and Church figured it was for some people. And truth be told, he actually liked that remark.

An eyebrow quirked on his own face when she started talking about Gryffindor. "Interestingly enough," Church responded in a dull tone. "I'm quite fond of physical challenges and brawls," he gave a slight smile, and a slight shrug. "That's actually how I imagined it to be, slightly louder, and less people throwing riddles around at all times."

Church shuddered slightly. "Seriously, a bunch of them decided it would be fun to see who could answer the most riddles that that bloody Eagle knocker gives." He shook his head. It was really a sort of pathetic contest too. The riddles were never that difficult anyways. Well, unless you were a first year. First years always seemed to have trouble with them in the beginning.

"I'd rather be a Gryffindor, really. The ones I know it it are a lot of fun," Church continued. "But apparently the concept of thinking about consequences before attempting a dangerous task isn't a Gryffindor quality, as none of them really look before they leap." He gave another small smile as he thought about it. "But that actually sounds like a fun way to live, so long as you can get out of anything bad that could happen."