Wielding Magic PV Leonard Oaksworth Closed

@Opeila Seilun

Hogwarts, for a school, was incredibly distracting. That was all he was going to say.

Exams were coming, and he was unprepared. A word that normally was as far from him as the pole where penguins resided were, however, as he learnt in painful ways involving colourful sparks, the castle was anything but. Quizzes were hard enough without vampires and their offspring roaming around, and they certainly didn’t need more unauthorised death traps to distract them. And yet, the so-called fun events continued on their way. He wouldn’t consider himself a wet blanket (this was to be taken with a pound or two of salt, even his grandfather liked parties more than he did, and the man was dead) but at one point indirect murder at the hands of professors and students alike interfered too much with studies.

The worst part of it all were the subjects. If it was arithmetic that was being interrupted, he could've punched the lights out of whichever gigantic vermin came at him with no help of a sparkly stick. Unfortunately for his report card and fortunately for the creatures, it was not maths and sciences they were studying. It was instead the aforementioned sparkly stick that was essential to his studies. Truth be told, if he wasn't a wizard himself, he'd hate the magical world and its inhabitants. Leonard did hate them anyways, but less so.

In any case, grades were above all. And even if he found it pointless in all senses of the word, it was necessary in order to not be the magical equivalent of a vagabond who dropped out of school. And such was his reason to going to the empty classroom.

At the foot of the door, he stopped in his tracks. Apparently it wasn't as empty as he thought. In there stood a girl seemingly around his height, dark hair around the shade of the floating inkwell. At that point he decided that the claims of his classmates were as true as the normal child's was: not at all. Empty, they said it was. Abandoned, they said it was. Haunted, they said it was. Actually, he was quite relieved the last claim was not true. Hopefully.

"Er, hello. Good job with that," he waved in the general direction of the levitating object. "D'you think I could maybe borrow one of those newspapers? Been looking for a place to practice some of the spells for the tests."

He took one of the newspapers warily, making sure it wasn't one of those that may have accidentally been hit with the fire spell. Though he wasn't at the event itself, he had heard of whispers about a dance where they'd needed to set out a load of fires, and that claim was sufficiently backed up by the burning scent coming from some of his dormmate's robes. By now, most students residing at the school had learned not to play with flames, and the fact was only strengthened by Leonard's refusal to do anything involving sparks. It had ruined many New Year's Eve parties.

"Lucky timing indeed," he muttered. From his previous attempts in the classroom, if he were to be practicing incendio, he'd need to distance himself from every flammable object within a twenty mile radius. Well, more like twenty-one point four, but either way he was going to burn something.

He was slightly surprised when the girl offered to let him stay and practice with her. Especially the with part of it. While there were some fairly friendly types among the rest, most of his fellow snakes either kept to themselves when it came to classes and such, or offered to practice on him. No matter, at least he wouldn't need the fireproof trousers he'd seen being sold along the sidewalks.

"Yeah, thanks, I'd love to join you here. Just don't judge me when I inevitably fail at doing anything," he laughed, a hint of nervousness making it through the façade of cheer. "And, if you don't mind me asking, what type of serious situations? You don't have to tell me every single detail, just the basics. I've been conducting a study of sorts, about stress and what it does to magic. You know those stories about mums who can lift up cars to save their kids? Something like that. As in, normally, it's hard to do a certain spell, but when your dog's being threatened by something that can only be defeated by the spell, you can do it with ease. Anything like that ever happen?"

"Name's Leonard, by the way," he said, picking up the shimmering match. Better than he ever did. "Transfiguration isn't my subject either. My mind doesn't seem to like anything involving instincts."

"I mean, I've heard stories about it, not sure if they're all true, though. Always a reason to be skeptical when it comes to eleven-year-old boys who'd do anything to impress the dorm," he added, in a twist of irony, as the words were only said to make sure he didn't seem completely oblivious to the events.

The name of science was something Leonard used as a shield, of some sorts, the way he used wry self-deprecation to deflect, or rather, attempt to deflect anything that invoked emotions, negative or not. A way to distract himself from the baking soda volcano eruption that had covered a formerly pristine laboratory coat with orange goo, or in this case, the much more needed distraction from the fact his school was a novel in the genres of science fiction, fantasy, and utter horror. Usually, the shield was enough to make sure his lunch was safely kept in his stomach, his mind was not overloaded with too many illogical, fearful musings and his mouth wouldn't become incapable of forming any coherent sentence, instead only having the ability to stutter singular consonants with no meaning. However, as shown in the form of a spider bite that Leonard regretted opening his eyes fully for and a story fit for a midnight campfire, the shield was easily broken when given the right circumstances.

"Oh, wow. Back in muggle school, they said sleepovers were full of crisps and orange juice and video games, maybe a vampire movie if your friends were feeling adventurous. Not, well, all that," as the guard of research had evidently failed him, it was up to his next three pieces of protective gear, humor, somewhat genuine concern, and not-at-all subtly moving on to the next subject to rescue his heart rate. "Real sorry that had to happen to you, though. Hopefully next time the teachers decide they want to throw a party, there'll be more crisps and less cursed arachnids. I, for one, would go to that party, and I don't even like parties much. Although, honestly, I'd just be there to pack up some food in microwavable containers and head off to eat them somewhere without people."

He took a second to twirl the magical stick he held in his hand towards the paper he'd chosen, a habit he'd acquired over the months to exercise his grip and prepare for the likely subsequent prickling, sparking burns. Somehow, his mind had turned the so-called practice into competition with his previous abysmal performance, gearing up to impress the girl next to him.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" His wrist flicked the wand, and in a second, a spot of bright hope appeared for the newspaper to actually levitate. Such light disappeared quickly, when the newspaper, about a foot off the ground, fell limp once more.

"Don't know what I expected," he said. "Works really well on some days, and others, not so much. Maybe I should go ahead and get myself into some trouble with one of those fiery types you talked about. That ought to get my water-related spells some practice."

His frank remark about the peculiar priorities of his prestige-seeking peers elicited a smile, a reaction he hadn't expected. For the most part, that was because it was a good reaction. Something even better than just the simple fact she hadn't bolted from the castle just yet, a sign he wasn't entirely as utterly repulsive as he thought he was. Or perhaps he was, indeed, that utterly repulsive, and the world around him and the girl he'd been talking to was part of a concerningly intricate dream induced by a sleep deeper than any previously experienced. No matter, for it seemed the nightmare part was over. It was only prudent to make the most of it, he felt, before the Godzilla-like loaf of bread came along to confirm his sleeping state.

"No, no, no, I'm in Merlin, actually. Something about that sword just drew me to it. Wouldn't put the possibility of moving to Snape in the rubbish bin just yet, though. I've been thinking of signing up there once year’s over which, unfortunately for my grades, is getting really close."

It was with a certain kind of irony he finally got to answer one of his many questions about existence, his existence, during a moment Leonard was sure he'd look back on with shame. He'd spent hours of the days asking who he was, and it seemed that with enough positive reinforcement (i.e. any), he was a hypocrite. Nothing more than another one of those who chased repute and left behind the truth to do so.

In the moment, though, he was content. A smile and an admittance of how different the school was compared to literally everything else was enough to keep him talking.

"As much as I'd like to say this was all a total surprise to me, my dad decided I'd be going here since the moment I was born. Earlier, even. Of course, his stories were a load different from anything that's happened so far, other than the Quidditch accidents. Seems those haven't changed at all," he chanced a light chuckle, thinking back to the few matches he'd bothered to watch. "It's been a fairytale, alright, but less of the sparkly pink movie ones and more of the Brothers Grimm ones where children get kidnapped by a man with a flute and the queen needs to wear ridiculously hot shoes until she dies. I'm around ninety per cent sure the flute kidnapping has already happened, though."

The snake nodded as Opeila, much to his stomach's dismay, talked further about the incidents he was glad to have no part in. She said the statements with a relative disappointment, something he could relate to greatly. Relative disappointment had practically been his life since the previously mentioned boat ride, along with unpleasant surprise sprinkled in.

"I have absolutely zero idea what it is, but if I ever manage to learn more about it, you'll be the first to know. Unless, of course, it gets me before I can tell anyone anything and leaves more than a scar."

Not the way to get someone to stay and talk, Oaksworth.

"Or if I just can't find you. It's a really big castle, as you probably already know, so that's definitely going to happen for a while. Once the staircases decide to work in my favour, though, I'll tell you about anything I found."

His eyes widened when she knocked the ink well to the floor once more. Leonard knew the general magical populace had stranger hobbies than most, but pushing glass materials off high places was certainly one he hadn't seen before. Luckily for his shoes, which had already been splattered more times than even the most brilliant of mathematicians could count, the container was quickly repaired. A small part of his mind felt envious of her, though the feeling was quickly squashed as he formulated a response to her questions.

"My dad's a muggleborn and my mum's mostly of wizard blood," he said, gaze still focused on the ink well in awe. "But I've been living down and going to school in Brighton as long as I can remember. I've also known about magic long as I can remember, never really wanted it much. Well, not until this one lad, Sean, started making fun of me, then I really loved what magic could do."

He nodded again to her suggestions, which were astonishingly said without malice. He took his wand and focused on the paper again, attempting to keep the doubts of his abilities at bay.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

It rose steadily as his grip did, much higher than the singular foot it had previously. The dirtied papers had reached his height when he decided to let it descend to the ground.

"Alright, wow. Wow. I think that's only happened thrice at most." He turned to her. "Have you ever thought of becoming a professor in the future?"

@Opeila Winters

The girl was a kindred spirit, yes, but not a soul who knew of his existence, apparently. It was not uncommon for people to meet friends in unlikely places, for dusty walls and empty halls to hold unexpected faces. The words were either lifted from a book thrice his weight or his father's crackling, dented radio, but in cases the maxim would be one held close to his miniscule heart. Yet, said heart felt a right blow be dealt to it when she was evidently unaware even his dormitory existed. The prospect of putting the dripping ink to the pinned parchment, joining the dormitory that was both recommended and subtly detested, became more of a possibility with every passing second. Surely, it couldn't have been that terrible of a place. The worst would likely come in the form of nothing more than a particularly talkative roommate or littered homework nobody would be bothered to pick up within the next century, not a fatal drowning or pet bats flying around.

He only managed a nod in reply to both remarks about the residences, still mulling over the options with minimal knowledge of anything else happening. Absolute madness was relatively normal, at that point, but he listed down an everlasting force field to be considered as a future project in case Opeila's warnings turned out to be more than a child's hyperbole.

Leonard laughed quietly at her latter statement, more a nervous puff of air one could interpret as a sound of joy than anything else. "If only I could calm myself down by thinking that. If I'm being honest, I'm scared the staff would expel us for anything. I once dropped a quill and thought I'd offended a ghost who made writing with feathers a sacred practice."

Silently, he lamented his remarkable ineptitude when it came to the skill of becoming peaceful. It wasn't something he could quite control, in spite of his best efforts. No amount of store-bought frozen desserts that claimed to be made naturally or endless nature ambience could still his ever-trembling fibers. The presence of suspiciously coloured delicacies was somehow unnerving for the boy despite its usual nature of bringing delight to anyone who had even a glimpse. He could never focus on the brighter side, thinking the light would burn him and leave indefinite scars. Of course, the girl didn't need to know of that. Leonard would make sure of it.

At the mention of fathers being unhappy about magic, he shifted uncomfortably. His own was almost too enthusiastic about the inherent perils of precariously producing primal paranormal perceptions with only pockets of postulation as particulars, a blessing and a curse mixed and crushed into such a fine powder he could only separate it by decimating it completely using the fire they were taught to conjure at an age that was much too emotional to be trusted with anything in the kitchen. For a moment, he wondered what life would've been like if his pun-slinging guardian was even the slightest portion bitter about sorcery. He became even more uncomfortable after that, shaking the thought away. It was almost certain the man would rather die.

"You're a seer?" The boy's eyes widened. He'd known that the offspring of those who drank of blood roamed the halls, he'd known those who turned into uncontrollable beasts when a certain celestial body rose were also tasked to write essays about great goblin warriors, he'd known those who changed their looks entirely still needed to follow deadlines, and he'd known those who had visions of vague futures involving signs of danger of some sort. Never had he met one, however, and "Interesting, interesting."

He attempted to hide his initial shock and less-than-nice internal questions with another comment. "Well, it's good he never did try and take your letter away. Don't know if I would've made it to second year without your guidance."

He cleared his throat at the mention of death accompanied by a smile. Whether it was simply a friendly gesture or a hint of barbarity, he would also note down. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Better. He got covered in little creepy crawlies, school thought there was an infestation," he sighed wistfully and stared off into the distance with a distinct twinkle in his eye, only a small part exaggerated. It was a fond memory, albeit one that raised many an eyebrow when he expressed stated fondness. No matter. If his companion happened to be a Slytherin, even if one who generally disliked violent (if that was the term) means, she would probably understand. "Classes were cancelled, I would've been hailed as a hero by everyone other than that dolt's mates. He had a lot of those, actually. Maybe it was for the best that they hadn't known. Other than the obvious complications about the whole muggles seeing magic thing."

Before he further spiraled into senseless academic discussion about the pros of earning a social status higher than tolerated and the cons of it being a setup ripe with feasible beatings, he once again got shaken back to life by learning of his tutor's true ambitions.

"How is that a typical muggleborn thing? While it's definitely not my cup of tea, I think it'd be a great idea for you to use your skills for good. Like one of those superheroes in those films my father loves. Fighting against all evil with your arcane stick," he punched the air with his wand in hand, doing his utmost best to both keep his dignity intact and demonstrate what fighting against evil would look like. "I, for one, am aiming to become an alchemist, so if you ever need information on that sort of thing, owl me."