<strong>Name:</strong>Gustav Raubriter<br/><strong>House/Year:</strong>Slytherin/6th<br/><strong>Bloodtype:</strong>Pure-blood<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Great Hall, Slytherin table<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Jamie, open<hr/>Quiet the entire time on his way to the school he had only once seen--earlier in the Summer-- and heard little about, the German  managed to stick out, simply by his stoicness. Everybody was excited, to varying degrees, or perhaps influenced by another emotion; but, not even curiosity seemed to show on the blond-haired teenager. And when the others in his carriage seemed wanting to engage him in conversation, his laconic answers, tinged with the biting German accent of his, seemed to make them lose interest quickly.<br/><br/>When he walked, it was with a certain amount of stiffness. Every step seemed to be perfectly equal and measured, and every step carefully chosen to optimize his travel time to wherever he went. Though his eyes gazed around and took in his surroundings and the people around him, he seemed entirely dispassionate, but not disinterested.<br/><br/>He would move over to one of the tables, a bit confused as to where he should be; this was his first time here, after all, and he had been sorted when he first came here with his parents, and worked out everything about shifting his education from Durmstrang to here. But, he does not look confused, and he certainly would never admit to such a weakness.<br/><br/>Thankfully, it was the table he was meant to be at. He would seat himself next to Jamie, whereupon he would offer her only the most basic of greetings. "Guten abend." His German had the fluidity of someone that was a natural speaker of it.  Though he spoke English fluently, he was planning to see if anybody here would happen to know the tongue of his father-land.<br/><br/>After speaking, however, he grew quiet, for it was time for the Professors to speak. He paid close attention to what they have to say, paying particular attention when the Head of House for Slytherin is mentioned. Gustav could tell at a glance that he'd get along with the man.<br/><br/>When the time to yell comes, the German is noticeably not speaking. He was not particularly thrilled with the idea of festivities, and when the confetti rains down upon them, he stands up, and shakes himself off; much like a dog would, really. It served the purpose of getting all the confetti off of him.  What an annoyance, he thought, as he sat back down.