[b]The Great Hall – Slytherin Table[/b]
[b]Anthony Stuart[/b]

Clearly, he wasn't fast enough to escape Scruffy Dave, who returned not so scruffy and in complete uniform. His French Toast wasn't even halfway done, mostly because he was contemplating the meaning of that smile. It wasn't a smirk, it wasn't false, it was [i]genuine[/i]. Nobody smiled at Anthony Stuart, not in Slytherin at least – he was the guy who took too long in the bathroom and pulled consistently high scores on his test and was a stickler over uniform. With no answers, when the older boy sat down, Anthony felt like screaming.

(A small part of him knew he was being dramatic for the sake of it, and he didn't actually [i]mind[/i] this David person, but he ruthlessly squashed it under an imaginary heel.)

"Yeah, I'm Anthony," he said. "Anthony Stuart." Get the surname in there, that's right. His father would be proud. Making unexpected acquaintances with those below him would warrant a pat on the back, too. Using a slight grin and an exaggeratedly pompous upturn of his nose, he sarcastically (with a hint of truth and arrogance) continued, "I'm not surprised you've heard of me."

"I [i]think[/i] you're David."