Nando

March 14, 2021, 2:12 p.m.

I'm Sort of a Wombo-Combo Kinda Guy

Nando eyed the stretched-out hand that suddenly retracted before he was able to shake it. He raised a questioning eyebrow before he realized that he was still holding on to the vomit bag. Oh yeah. Although it was closed, he couldn't help but wonder whether or not his vomit had magically been whisked away by some poor, undeserving house elf. Pulling out his wand (he loved that he could do that again), he smiled an apologetical and embarrassed half-grin.

"Sorry about that, lo siento. I kinda got distracted. Scourgify!" Suddenly the bag felt very light and smelled slightly of lavender and something resembling whatever the hell scent "artic cool" was supposed to be. He cast the spell on his hands, which caused his hands to magically bubble over, immediately cleaning them. This was probably the cleanest his hands were, which made him think of the Bubble Buddy episode of Spongebob. He knew it was an old episode, but his parents raised him traditionally, so he watched all the things that were apparently swaggy back in the 90s. He was quirky like that.

"Hey Angel, I'm Nando. Well- Fernando, but call me Nando. Unless I'm in trouble, which is when people typically call me by my full name." Pulling out his textbook, he flipped to the chapter he was reading and showed it to the first year. "Basically, everything they teach us in History of Magic boils down to this: indigenous species or race exists, enter: magical white manifest destiny, war for like eighty thousand years, resolution that benefits wizardkind and leaves indigenous people scarred for centuries to come. Like did you know that Goblins aren't even allowed to use wands? The hell is that all about?"

Looking down at the younger boy's newly colored dreamcatcher, he quickly added, "Oh, by the way! Welcome to Lyra! It's basically the best house since we're so cool and artistically motivated. It's basically like we're the Montessori house and all the other houses are either boring or insane." He hinted at the rumors of an older student poisoning her ex-boyfriend but didn't want to outright scare Angel. He didn't have to know about the supposed basilisk involved, at least that's what he heard on the grapevine. He wondered how the hell a basilisk would even be able to exist within RMI- wait, maybe that part of the story wasn't true.

He figured that he would see something about it on the Magical New York Times, but he figured it was super under wraps because of how pureblood politics worked. Funnily enough, he had accidentally subscribed to the real New York Times when he was trying to tell the confused school owl what he wanted, but alas there was no mentioning of the poisoning in either newspaper. Using Occam's Razor, he figured he'd cut out the bit about the basilisk from his future retellings of the story since an ancient creature slithering within the school's halls would have definitely at least made the second page.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "How are you liking the school so far? I transferred in the middle of last term, so I know how overwhelming it can be at first."

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Let the Feast Begin! T32 - Tobias Morgan || March 13
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Well, that's a combination of words. - Angelo Cozzolino || March 14