Laurus Nobilis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laurus_nobilis) wrote2005-11-08 05:11 pm
laurus_nobilis) wrote2005-11-08 05:11 pm
Off-limits [Card Captor Sakura/Harry Potter; English]
Title: Off-limits
Rating: G
Genre: Introspection
Characters: Clow
Summary: Fifteen-year-old Clow at Hogwarts.
Notes: Written for Crossovers 100's prompt Beginnings.
If there was something that five years at Hogwarts could teach to a young wizard, it was the most efficient way to sneak out of his dormitory. Clow had mastered that art very soon and without difficulty. It was, in fact, the most useful thing he had learned there so far.
He understood why Father wanted him to receive an education in Western magic, once the Lis had taught him everything they could. It was only fair, and he was interested in learning about both sides of his heritage. If he was meant to be as great as his relatives believed, he should prepare his way for it.
But, for a boy who had mastered the finer points of Eastern magic at age ten, classes at Hogwarts were repetitive at best – except for Divination, which could only be described as a joke. Clow supposed, when he tried to be objective, that going to this school wasn't entirely pointless. Knowing more than one way to do things could become an advantage.
The problem was that he had no challenges. And that was the reason why he was getting more and more used to sneak out of his dormitory, creep through the dark halls, and find his way to the library's Restricted Section.
So far, it hadn't given him any trouble. He knew plenty of tricks to remain unnoticed, the fact that he could tell beforehand if the caretaker was going to show up or not was certainly a helpful condition, and he was only there to read, after all. He wasn't foolish enough to try any of those spells and charms, no matter how fascinating they seemed. The risks would be too great if he failed – or, even worse, if he got caught.
Besides, the last thing he needed was to give people a reason to be wary of him. If most of the students already treated him like that, without him doing anything... English wizards were just as prejudiced as Chinese ones, that was a lesson he learned very quickly. And one had to be very careful with words, because they would hear no explanations. To them, Darkness was, of course, evil; and it was even more suspicious in a Slytherin, not to mention a foreign one.
Clow opened a copy of Moste Potente Potions, not before putting a Silencing charm on it, and sighed. Perhaps he should have been in Ravenclaw, like Father; then people would have found him a little less threatening. He would have been in the same House as Uric, too, and he didn't care about details like eyes or accents that deviated from the norm. Truth be told, Uric didn't seem to care about "the norm" at all, but he was kind and funny and Clow's only real friend.
But he wasn't here to dwell on those thoughts. No, he wanted to get new ideas, to improve his skills, even if going off-limits was the only way to achieve that.
A tiny, glowing sphere floated over the palm of his hand – Mother always said he would ruin his eyes if he kept reading in dim light, but he couldn't risk anything brighter – and he curled up with the book for the rest of the night.
Rating: G
Genre: Introspection
Characters: Clow
Summary: Fifteen-year-old Clow at Hogwarts.
Notes: Written for Crossovers 100's prompt Beginnings.
If there was something that five years at Hogwarts could teach to a young wizard, it was the most efficient way to sneak out of his dormitory. Clow had mastered that art very soon and without difficulty. It was, in fact, the most useful thing he had learned there so far.
He understood why Father wanted him to receive an education in Western magic, once the Lis had taught him everything they could. It was only fair, and he was interested in learning about both sides of his heritage. If he was meant to be as great as his relatives believed, he should prepare his way for it.
But, for a boy who had mastered the finer points of Eastern magic at age ten, classes at Hogwarts were repetitive at best – except for Divination, which could only be described as a joke. Clow supposed, when he tried to be objective, that going to this school wasn't entirely pointless. Knowing more than one way to do things could become an advantage.
The problem was that he had no challenges. And that was the reason why he was getting more and more used to sneak out of his dormitory, creep through the dark halls, and find his way to the library's Restricted Section.
So far, it hadn't given him any trouble. He knew plenty of tricks to remain unnoticed, the fact that he could tell beforehand if the caretaker was going to show up or not was certainly a helpful condition, and he was only there to read, after all. He wasn't foolish enough to try any of those spells and charms, no matter how fascinating they seemed. The risks would be too great if he failed – or, even worse, if he got caught.
Besides, the last thing he needed was to give people a reason to be wary of him. If most of the students already treated him like that, without him doing anything... English wizards were just as prejudiced as Chinese ones, that was a lesson he learned very quickly. And one had to be very careful with words, because they would hear no explanations. To them, Darkness was, of course, evil; and it was even more suspicious in a Slytherin, not to mention a foreign one.
Clow opened a copy of Moste Potente Potions, not before putting a Silencing charm on it, and sighed. Perhaps he should have been in Ravenclaw, like Father; then people would have found him a little less threatening. He would have been in the same House as Uric, too, and he didn't care about details like eyes or accents that deviated from the norm. Truth be told, Uric didn't seem to care about "the norm" at all, but he was kind and funny and Clow's only real friend.
But he wasn't here to dwell on those thoughts. No, he wanted to get new ideas, to improve his skills, even if going off-limits was the only way to achieve that.
A tiny, glowing sphere floated over the palm of his hand – Mother always said he would ruin his eyes if he kept reading in dim light, but he couldn't risk anything brighter – and he curled up with the book for the rest of the night.