Not Going To Fail; Fourth Year

For the first time in her life, Iva had decided to actually try in her studies. No more slow classes, no more skipping. She was a new girl; smart enough to be recognized by teachers.

Taking divination was the first step. She'd try this class out, one she never imagined she'd ever take, and if it went well, she'd take it as a sign to try in other classes as well.

She strode into the room, nose in the air and robes slightly too tight around her hips. Book in hand, she slipped into the middle of the classroom- a big change from the back corner.

Rhys made his way up to the Divination classroom. It was more of a passing interest, really. That, and the option to take any class instead of Potions was one he jumped at without hesitation. The redhead had made it up the tower without incident... only to trip over the threshold.

Spectacularly; completed with scraped palms, aching knees, and a spilled schoolbag.

"For the love of Merlin!" Rhys exclaimed, speaking Russian, brushing dust from his hands before proceeding to stuff his belongings back in his bag. "Fourteen-years-old - you'd think I'd know how to walk, by now..." He continued to grumble a bit, failing to notice that he wasn't, in fact, the only one currently in the room.

Turning around at the commotion, Iva couldn't help up snort at the Durmstrang boy and his clumsy behavior. Normally, she would have ignored him, but part of her left bad for the Durmstrang kids. English culture was so different!

"Hey, Ginger," she called, pushing herself out of her chair. "Might wanna stop talking to yourself."

She waltzed over, nudging one of his books with her toe. She bent over to pick it up, stopping half way to meet him eye to eye. He pulled off red hair well, she decided.

"I'm Iva Popov," she said, "My brother goes to Durmstrang- Pieter. Do you know him or not?"

Rhys looked up at the girl, a grin spreading across his face and eyes brightening. "When you hear me speak English, you'll understand why talking to myself seems more appealing," he joked. "At least, then, someone will understand me."

He reached out for his book, murmuring a soft thanks, blue-eyed gaze meeting hers. "Rhys Edmunds," the boy responded, offering his hand.

"Pieter Popov?" Rhys echoed, reverting to English when she did, though the girl spoke it better than he did. "Ah... 'e is Uchitel, yes? I know 'f 'im, but 'e is year ahead 'f me an' other house. We do no' know one 'nother."

His Welsh and Russian accent warped his words, causing him to grimace slightly. "And now you know why I talk to myself," he quipped with a rueful smile. "'orr'ble English!"

Magus, from his perch in the corner, gave a loud, obnoxious caw, half-extending his wings. A moment later, his mistress entered the room.

"Honestly, now, laddie," the woman admonished him lightly. "There isnae any need fer such ruckus."

Sophia turned to greet her class, small as her classes usually were. "Good morning. Shall we go ahead and get started, then? What can either of ye tell me about numerology?"

Iva took his hand and gave it a quick shake before turning away from the boy. He was right, his accent was pretty horrible, but... she shouldn't say that to a stranger. Sitting down and giving the crow a glare, she couldn't help but startle at the teacher's appearance.

"It has to do with numbers and your name, I think," she shrugged, "It's big in India,"

Rhys scratched his head uncertainly before venturing to add to the Iva's response. "It is th' study 'f the... divination, uh... connection? between measurement an' life," he said. "It is very old, yes?"

That ought to have been alright, shouldn't it? After all, Iva's answer wasn't wrong, just different. He just hoped she wouldn't feel offended.