Whispers in the Library PV Edwin Westbridge

Few things excited Edwin Westbridge enough for him to willingly engage in anything resembling hard work. Defence against the Dark Arts was one of those few things, and this was why Edwin found himself strolling into the library by his own volition. His interest in the subject stemmed from two key concepts. First, his parents were Aurors, and had always spoken glowingly of the subject, and its use. Second, casting magic is cool - especially magic that you can duel with. He'd made quick work of all the first year materials in the library, having read every book in that section back to front within his first month at Hogwarts. Many things could be critiqued about the youngest Westbridge's work ethic, but if something intrigued him, it was hard to fault the effort that he'd go through to consume any and every resource pertaining to the subject.

Him having already exhausted the first year resources was what lead him deeper into the library, searching for better, more complex books. He quickly found himself passing by taller, older students, as he endeavoured to find himself somewhere quiet to tuck himself away, surrounded by books detailing exciting spells. Unfortunately, his destination was already preoccupied. Preoccupied by someone, who like him, looked too young to be sat amongst these books.

It was just as he had arrived that he heard the other boy speak, hardly able to believe what he had just heard him say. Just in front of him was sat an excellent opportunity, one that may quickly pass, should he not navigate it properly. "If only." He repeated, stepping fully into sight of the other boy, his voice a slow, almost bored, drawl. Whilst the two clearly shared a common interest, that was, at least at first glance, where the similarities ended. Where the Slytherin wore his perfectly styled robes with pride, Edwin did not. His robes were half heartedly thrown over him, and his tie was loosely fastened. Edwin was not able to share that same pride in his house, as Westbridges were not Gryffindor. Edwin was not a Gryffindor. But, he thought that is a concern for another day. Had he continued down that train of thought, he'd of likely spiralled and circled into an internal tirade about a senile old hat, as he had done many times since his arrival.

"That stuffs probably quite hard for a first year." He continued, his accent likely a shocking contrast with the poor display of his robes. "Unless, you found someone to learn with." He continued his approach towards the table, lowering himself down onto the seat opposite Saunders, immediately extending a hand out across the table. "Edwin Westbridge." He introduced himself, his voice dripping with the typical pureblooded pride at the mention of his surname.

Saunders was taken aback upon hearing the surprising response to his sigh. Did the heavens now begin to answer the boy? Did the boy's ears start to hear the divine voice that effortlessly? Or, in lay terms, did the deliberate over-exhaustion he insisted on enduring finally decide to strip Saunders of the gift of sanity? Having raised his head and looked up, though, he immediately realised the presence of a young lion with his light blond, wavy hair, sculptured face, and pretty intriguing manners. Now that was an entrance that richly deserved to be called impressive.

Saunders felt that his initial favourable impression of this enigmatic boy was quickly challenged by the obvious lack of neatness regarding his attire. By all means, he was far from deserving to be labelled as dowdy, yet the boy's Dionysian tie was nothing more than an open rebellion to Saunders' blue, almond-shaped, and fastidious eyes. Knowing that he was born too late and in a very wrong and dark energy-dominated age in order to make people accept the normally undeniable fact that casual dresses were quintessentially unable to be stylish, he preferred to throw up his hands in despair. "It is ill striving against the stream," he pondered.

When the boy spoke his first sentence of more than two words, Saunders decided it was too early to pass judgment on him. His was a soft, familiar accent, as melodious as the leap of a gazelle over stones in a stream. He narrowed his eyes at the young lion in front of him. His gaze wanted to convey two very different responses: "Yes, I am practising some extracurricular spells, and I appreciate you noticing that" and "Hard? What do you mean? That I can't deal with these spells? Mind your own business." But the boy's next sentence made it even clearer that there was no need for the more aggressive response, which remained in his mind merely as a fantasy. Someone to learn with... To circle back to the start, even if the heavens had not responded in a way Saunders could comprehend, they had offered something greater: a flesh and blood response.

He gripped Edwin’s outstretched hand, now knowing his name. The surname Westbridge seemed to spark some distant recollections, though he quickly pushed them aside. The issue at hand was far more pressing, far more pivotal. "Saunders," he said, almost echoing the boy's tone, "Saunders Napier." He paused for a moment. Wryly smiled, "Perhaps I have already found someone to learn with," he continued, "unless, of course, that one is the sort who prefers hanging around the Quidditch Pitch rather than honing his skills."

@Edwin Westbridge

As the Napiers gaze was directed onto him, Edwin stared back at him, his face impassive. If there was any messages veiled beneath the other boys gaze, Edwin, for the most part, remained ignorant to them, happy to sit in the silence that hung between the pair.

Once Saunders grasped his hand, he tightened his grip on the other boys hand, firmly shaking his hand before letting his hand lazily fall down onto the table below. "Well met." He said, his tone slipping back into his typical, bored drawl, as opposed to the proud pureblood he had briefly appeared to be. Edwin cocked his brows at the mention of quidditch, a small grin playing at his lips. The implication that he could was some quidditch player who neglected his studies was almost laughable. The dedication that was required to become a quidditch player of any note was not something that came naturally to the Westbridge, who would much rather nap on a sofa in the common room, rather than applying himself to anything.

Truthfully, he had an appreciation for Quidditch, one that Saunders seemingly did not share. Quidditch was the subject of many fond memories for the Westbridge family, having grown up playing with his brothers. Though, Quidditch at Hogwarts was far more competitive than anything he'd ever took part in, and was not something that he was so enthused by. Though, likely not to the extent of a prospective study partner of the Slytherin. That left with a rather simple question to answer, how do I proceed? An honest depiction of himself, or portray himself how he believed Saunders would want?

The latter.

"Assuming I haven't misinterpreted you." He began, sitting upright in his chair, his face completely impassive, showing no hint of any deception. "I have no interest in Quidditch, I outgrew that."

"That." He prodded a finger towards book lying in front of Saunders, a grin once more playing at his lips, his pale gaze now baring an intensity, as he studied the other boys reaction. "is what I'm interested in, it's just a pain to progress alone. Can't exactly disarm myself, can I?"

"The first year stuff.. All so dull." He waved his hand dismissively, before prodding towards the book once more. "Just hadn't imagined anyone else in the castle shared those thoughts, before now."

It did not take long for Saunders to realise that he found himself in the midst of a swinging dance that was neither in his plans nor his dreams for today. Still, he was determined to match his steps to Edwin's, though he intended to keep some measure of control. Surrendering entirely to Edwin's lead was out of the question. Every dynamic inevitably required someone to be chef d'orchestre, and the post was vacant for the time being, although Edwin was obviously a natural contender.

Edwin's tone was measured, his gestures unhurried, but there was something faintly incongruous about him. Saunders had no clue to unravel the whole mystery, but he did not fail to see the cunning glint in the Westbridge boy's eyes, subtle but unmistakable. As he watched Edwin's graceful and purposeful motions, he could not help but think that they went against every Gryffindor archetype he had heard prior to his arrival at Hogwarts. Having quickly revised the second-hand prejudices he had inherited, Saunders concluded that the boy seemed too resourceful for a Gryffindor, who were typically as uninspired and dull as watching paint dry. It was a quality shared by many wizards and witches Saunders had encountered, most of them Slytherins, and it spoke of a mind as sharp as it was calculating. It was pretty clear, even from the very brief exchange of words between them, that Edwin was no ass in a lion's skin. But Saunders felt that it was very probable that the boy could be regarded as a... lion with a hiss? Or a serpent with a roar? Either one of these two and Saunders was eager to discover which one he was.

His gaze shifted to the book Edwin had gestured towards. It was not the sort of book most students their age would pick up, let alone scrutinise as feverishly as the Napier boy had. That alone set Edwin apart, it was not every day that someone shared Saunders' disdain for the simplicity of their curriculum. "Disarming yourself wouldn't be such a bad idea," Saunders commented, his grin widening. "It might give you a taste of humility." His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of defiance as if he were challenging Edwin.

"I didn’t think anyone else here would share my thoughts either." Saunders added quietly, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of vulnerability that he would quickly mask. "Would you," he said, "like to give some of the spells in this book a try together sometime?" He added with a playful gleam in his eye, "Looks like we both deserve something a little more exciting than dull." Saunders hoped to see the boy wave his wand with the same agility in his movements as he displayed in his speech.

Would the two be able to explore the endless possibilities of magic that seemed to stretch on forever? Saunders glanced at Edwin again. Something within him answered the question with a resounding yes.

@Edwin Westbridge

The metaphorical dance the two boys found themselves in was one that Edwin quickly tired of, but he had committed himself to a facade, and to get what he desired, he would have to see this whole encounter through. He remained alert, possibly for the first time in his life, carefully judging the other boys expression, searching for any reaction to Edwins words.

As silence once again hung between the pair, Edwins gaze was momentarily drew towards the other boys robes, taking note of its Slytherin insignia and trimmings. For the briefest of moments, perhaps too fast for Saunders to even notice, Edwins expression slipped. A scowl briefly flashed across the Westbridges face, masking another emotion. Jealously. Jealously towards Slytherins was not a trait common amongst Gryffindors, in fact Edwin had yet to find anyone who shared his thoughts. Then again, Edwin had yet to meet a huge number of Gryffindors, as he had yet to truly accept himself as a Gryffindor. After all, how could he be a Gryffindor? He was a Westbridge.

Before Edwin had the chance to sink further into his self-pity about his placement, Saunders broke the silence, drawing Edwins gaze back up towards his face, carefully observing his expression. "Yeah?" His brows rose at the Napiers comment, the grin once again returning to his face. He scoffed at the mention of humility, opting not to comment any further on that. Putting aside his feelings on his sorting, Edwin carried himself with a high sense of self importance - humility was not something that would likely ever come naturally to him.

He gave a small nod to Saunders next comment. "I imagine you'd be surprised. I'm sure there's a number of people who grow bored of what's taught. It's just.." He paused for a moment, mulling the words over in his mind. ".. Of those people, I imagine there's a scarce number who'd ever act on those feelings. Like you and I."

There was no hesitation before his next words, as soon as the offer was laid out by Saunders, Edwin pounced on it. "Of course." He said, excitedly. "Reckon we should get a list, or something.. Flick through that for a moment." He gestured to the book Saunders was holding, reaching down into his own bag to retrieve his quill, ink well and parchment. "Disarming, of course." He began, writing expelliarmus at the top of the page, before resting the quill atop the page. "Also should figure out where. The library is hardly appropriate to be slinging spells around, I don't imagine the librarian will take kindly to that."

Saunders intuited something lying beneath Edwin's eyes, something that the boy deliberately refrained from expressing. But he could not identify it, which made him slightly uncomfortable. The young snake had always thought that he was a keen observer, able to read others without much difficulty. Edwin's face, however, was more like a foreign language whose basic logic behind its grammar he had not yet figured out. Did he even like Saunders a bit? Or was there nothing that moved him except a meticulous stoicism that would have made even a historian of magic jealous? As he observed the perfect harmony between the boy's pale gaze and bored drawl, Saunders' mind continued to wonder about Edwin's character.

All that aside, the young snake was pleased to be recognised by Edwin. His slightly sceptical nature, which had led him to question whether the other boy had any hidden ulterior motives, was calmed as he was groomed by Edwin's insinuations that the two of them were somehow "special". It was an experience Saunders wanted to share with someone as much as practising magic - to feel special. Although Saunders was considerably stubborn or naïve in believing that this or that lucky star in his fortune would lead him to achieve some great things, he was not megalomaniacal to the extent of wanting to be the only special person on earth. The sovereign ruler of the boy's inner realm was not a dictator ecstatic with admiration for his reflection in the mirror, but an oligarch who sought the pleasure of being with others like himself; and by the time Edwin's "like you and me" reached his ears, Saunders was fully persuaded to set aside his not particularly strong reservations completely.

It further pleased Saunders to hear a note of excitement in Edwin's voice. So the idea of throwing spells around together was enough to get the young lion out of his bored drawl, at least temporarily. They moved on to the practical part of the work, the planning stage, which constituted half, or even more than half, of every single intention. Saunders began to run his fingers over the lines of the book. His expression was more mesmerised than ever as he looked at the spells he believed he would soon master, now that he had met Edwin, a kindred spirit in pursuit of the pearly ore of self-enhancement. "Blindfolding, for sure..." Having seen that Edwin had put disarming at the top of the list, however, Saunders felt a mixture of joy and disappointment. "I've learnt that one actually," he said, "not exactly with a practice partner, unfortunately, but with a practice dummy..." That bloody Brian... Each time they practised together, he annoyed Saunders so much with his sarcastic comments that the young snake finally managed to cast a spell, solely and exclusively to shut him up. "But I don't think my wand would say no to the taste of a good, solid Expelliarmus."

He buried his head in the book again, his eyes like the scrupulously squinted eyes of a skilled craftsman as he tried to discover which spell was most worth learning. As he glanced up from the book following Edwin's question about where they could use these spells to practise, his mind raced like a detective scanning every nook and cranny of the Marauder's Map. "Some say the librarian is a parseltongue," he said, "maybe he can reserve the Chamber of Secrets for us just for a few hours." He retrieved this scrap of information from the part of his brain reserved for half-remembered rumours. "But sure, I can totally understand a lion not wanting to go in there."

Lest it be thought that Saunders was not really interested in the issue, he quickly abandoned these light comments and decided to propose a few of the real options. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is always available," he murmured thoughtfully, "Professor Lécuyer doesn't mind diligent students like us using it outside of class hours." His mind slowly began to extend from the inside of the castle to the outside. "Well, if pastoral landscapes inspire you," he continued, "we might also consider casting spells by the Great Lake."

@Edwin Westbridge

"Blindfolding, sure." He muttered beneath his breath, quickly writing 'Blindfolding Spell' beneath expelliarmus. Much to his own annoyance, Edwin couldn't quite recall the incantation for the blindfolding spell, despite being confident that he had at least passed over it once or twice during his reading. He was quick to jot down on the paper, but despite the speed at which he wrote, the handwriting was beautiful, evidently something that had been drilled into the Gryffindor since he was a child.

Once he finished with his writing, he glanced back up towards the other boy, noting the shift in Saunders expression. That look of intrigue and fascination that was painted onto the Slytherins face was one that was rarely, if ever seen on Edwins face. In fact, it was incredibly likely that not a single person in the castle had ever seen Edwin look even close to excited about any work. And yet, as Saunders continued to read, the expression began to reflect on Edwin. A look of genuine excitement for the possibilities. They could practice any number of spells together, and Edwin almost allowed his imagination to run ahead of himself.

"Ah.." He frowned for a moment once Saunders mentioned his familiarity with the disarming chance, but he was quick to continue on. "I've got some catching up to do, I guess.. Maybe I'll learn that before we try anything together, and then we can practice it against each other. I bet it's harder to use against someone who moves, rather than a stand still dummy." It did seem rather obvious in hindsight to just place a stick, or something similar, in the hands of a dummy to practice the disarming spell, but the thought had never crossed Edwins mind.

"Really?" He leant back in his seat, peering around, as if he was looking for the librarian. "Quite cool, actually." He muttered beneath his breath, likely too quiet for Saunders to hear.

And there it was. That singular fact he had come to hate. As the accusation of being a Lion was levied against him, Edwins hand moved, subconsciously scratching at the lion insignia embroidered into his robes, as if he was trying to rid himself of that badge. "Lion." He practically spat the term out, no attempt at hiding his disdain. "Some senile hat makes a mistake, and all of a sudden I'm just some lion." He continued, that look of interest and excitement entirely void from expression, replaced by something that sat between annoyance and sadness, and, perhaps, a hint of jealously.

As Saunders began to hint at locations, Edwin lifted the quill once again, jotting down 'Tongue-Tying Curse', having remembered his brothers once mentioning what fun that had been to learn. "Classroom is good, probably. It'll have dummies in it, and you don't risk someone getting caught by a spell gone wrong."

"Do you know what the professor thinks of students practicing on each other? Or is that something we best just not mention?" He asked.

Saunders' eyes darted between the spells in the book and Edwin's handwritten notes in rather shipshape order. He was pleased to see that the list was growing. As his grandfather Horatio had once said, there was a limit to everything on this blue planet, except self-improvement. "Man can become one of the gods," the old alchemist had once said. Saunders had no ambition to join a specific pantheon, but he had understood the message.

The young snake was a little surprised that Edwin paid little, if any, attention to the rumour that the librarian was a parseltongue. When he first heard it, his eyes widened in surprise. Yet no matter how trivial a rumour might seem, it always managed to impress Saunders. The navy-blue-eyed boy's passion for the unknown was more than enough to make him one of the youngest fans of the rumour-mongering. It was quite easy to claim that it had always been one of the most cherished pastimes of the boy, right after devouring some Sugar Quills maybe.

"Oops," he muttered hushedly, upon witnessing Edwin's genuine loathe of being referred to as a lion. Obviously, there was a delicate matter at stake, a wound not to be scratched... Saunders too had always found old Godric's house, to put it mildly, considerably bland. He might, therefore, have enjoyed killing time by lampooning this encrimsoned house with the utmost pleasure, but under different circumstances. Faced with a snake or an eagle trapped in the body of a lion, Saunders concluded, the most reasonable activity would have been not to provoke him to further agitation.

He cracked a faint smile, pleased to hear that Edwin found the proposed location suitable. The DADA classroom was indeed a decent place for its overall atmosphere for an aspiring duellist, a place where Saunders heartily fancied spending time. "As long as we don't hurt each other so badly that we get transferred to St Mungo's," he said, "I don't think the professor will bother with us." Well, he had no particular objection when Saunders kept casting Expalliarmus at Brian, whom he described as a practice dummy. Surely he had no attachment to Edwin that required him to be more protective of the boy?

"Is the list complete?" Saunders asked, as he turned the book over to his new practice mate to check. He rested his elbow on the table, rested his chin on his right hand and looked into the boy's eyes. "Do you think you'll be able to learn Expelliarmus in a week?" he asked. Unwilling to rush the boy, he was still eager to get on with the more practical side of the task as soon as possible. "Whenever you're ready, I'm an owl away." As much as he would have liked it otherwise, life at Hogwarts was not all about practice and Saunders had some pretty theoretical essays to write.

"It's really nice to meet you," he said solemnly, as he stood up in an almost circumspect manner, "Edwin Westbridge." He held out his hand to the boy, sealing their agreement.

@Edwin Westbridge

Saunders slight acknowledgement of his mistep of accucsing Edwin of being a lion was enough for Edwin to offer a slight nod of his head, agreeing that was an issue that should simply be moved on from. Whilst Edwin didn't necassarily hold disdain for the house itself, understanding that many held a child like admiration for the house that so many of histories heroes had hailed from, he held disdain for his sorting. A Westbridge in any house but Slytherin was practically unheard of. You could trace the lineage for generations and the only mishap was a single Ravenclaw, and that house was deemed to be acceptable, given that it was a house that valued intelligence, rather than something more mundane, such as courage. Furthermore, there was simply no way that Edwin would fit the hats profile for a Gryffindor, he failed to see any possible link that the hat may have made. The very facade he had crafted to maneover himself through this conversation was surely proof of his cunning, a trait that the snake house valued so highly. His desire to learn spells above his year range was surely proof of his ambition, a trait that the snake house valued so highly.

"I doubt there is anything in there that would lead to a trip to St Mungos." He drawled, a slight tone of disappointment appearing within his voice. Whilst he genuinly had no intent to cause any actual damage, the spells that had the potential to do so were the truly exciting spells. The spells that accomplished duelers would slign at one another, those were the spells that excited Edwin. But, alas, those were too advanced for even the most eager of first years. "I don't know how the teacher is outside of teaching hours, so I'll take your word for it."

"Uh.. Nearly." He glanced back down towards the parchment, the right hand side a mess of dotted ink, where the Gryffindor had been idly tapping away at the sheet with his quill. "This.. and this." He added a further couple of spells to the list, now having wrote down the entire second year curicculum for Defence Agaisnt the Dark Arts. "I think learning these should be enough to keep us busy for some time."

Edwin scoffed at the question, staring back at Saunders as if the answer should be obvious. "I could learn it in a day, a week is plenty." His tone was entierly serious, filled with confidence, a confidence that was potentially misplaced. However, this was a spell he'd heard discussed more than potentially any spell ever. His brothers had spoken about the spell, and his parents had mentioned it almost any time they every spoke about work. He felt he knew the spell back to front without ever having even read about it.

"Likewise." He mirroed the Slytherin, rising to his feet. "Saunders Napier." He concluded, reaching out to grasp the other boys hand with a firm grip, giving it a brief shake, before turning, deparing the libray, intent on heading straight towards a DADA classroom to begin his study of expelliarmus.

FINISHED - UNLESS SAUNDERS HAS SOMETHING ELSE