A Clash of Wands PV Saunders Napier

"December is a gnarly, bothersome month," Saunders mused, a proud smirk tugging at his lips as he indulged his inner monologue with a few obsolete words borrowed from his grandfather. Despite being half-Danish, the young snake could hardly be described as fond of the cold, or of heat so intense it could be called scorching. After all, Saunders was a boy of balance in all matters. Unless forced, he didn’t laugh, but smiled; didn’t run, but walked briskly; didn’t sing, but hummed.

He was leaning against the wall of the Transfiguration Courtyard’s covered section, scanning the parchment scrawled with notes from the class he’d just attended, when he spotted one of the youngest of Salazar’s disciples darting hastily toward him. He squinted at the boy, trying to place his name, but to no avail. Some people, Saunders reflected, belonged to that peculiar subset of humanity: those with forgettable faces and unmemorable names. This boy, clearly, was one of them. Saunders silently regarded him as living proof of just how inaccurate some of the stereotypical views about Slytherin could be. “Some of us,” he thought as the boy drew nearer, “must find grandeur in mediocrity.”

The boy shoved a note into his hand and scurried off. "A civilised person would at least offer an explanation or a greeting," Saunders chastised silently before turning his attention to the scrap of paper. What now? Curiosity piqued, he unfolded the carelessly written note, muttering, “I hope this isn’t a love confession.” The last thing he wanted was to waste his precious time loitering by the lake or in the boathouse, droning on about the exalted nature of emotions or the sanctity of love with some girl (well, or boy; Saunders wasn’t entirely sure which).

But no, it wasn’t that. The note was from Edwin. Saunders’ lips curled into a smile. Thinking of the boy who’d delivered it, "Poor chap,” he mused with mild amusement, “what self-respecting Slytherin would so meekly comply with a Gryffindor’s fait accompli?"

Saunders’ classes for the day were over. Not that it would have mattered if they weren’t. He had decided some time ago to prioritise the extracurricular study plan he and Edwin had concocted far above the feeble, uninspiring curriculum Hogwarts imposed on them, one Saunders found entirely beneath him. Passing through the Great Door, he ascended a single flight of the coiled staircase before arriving at the threshold of the DADA classroom. Drawing a deep breath, he opened the door.
Edwin was there, seated on a chair, tapping his foot in a steady rhythm.

"Salutations," Saunders greeted, his tone deliberately dramatic, as he carefully placed his bag beside Edwin’s -- a stark contrast to Edwin’s own, slumped and lopsided like a watermelon tossed off the back of a truck. Turning back to Edwin, Saunders remarked, "Nice work," nodding toward what resembled a duelling stage.

"Someone, it seems," he continued slowly, "is itching for a duel." A crooked, half-smile played on his lips as he drew his wand. "Or am I mistaken?" He eased into the chair directly opposite Edwin, crossing one leg over the other, hands clasped on his knee, and a spirited glint in his eyes.

@Edwin Westbridge

Whilst Saunders arrival wasn't necassarily a suprise, Edwin had been almost one hundred percent certain that he would come, it was somewhat of a relief nevertheless. He would of hated to have prepared the classroom, only for no one, or worse someone he didn't know, to have arrived. The Slytherins far more delicate approach to setting aside his belongs dragged Edwins gaze momentarily back towards his haphazardly thrown aside bag, briefly contempemplating whether he should at show a tad more respect to his own belongingfs, as his parents had often willed him to do so. However, he could not be bothered. That thought fled from his mind just a quickly as it had came, and he looked back over towards Saunders. "Greetings ." He returned, speaking in a bored drawl, another stark contrast between the pair. His lips briefly curled into a small grin, offering a nod of acknowledgement towards the praise of the stage that he had quickly put together.

"Somebody is indeed itching for a duel." He confirmed, the tapping of his foot coming to a halt as Saunders settled into his seat. Edwin sat upright in his chair, his hands clasped together infront of him, as he continued to speak. "However, that is not why we are here today. Truthfully," he began, a scowl on his face as if the words he was about to speak bought a physical pain to him, "I am not sure I am in the position to be duelling currently." Whilst he claimed to not be sure of it, the truth of the matter was that he was completely confident in that fact. If he were to ever duel, he'd do so when he was in a position to win the duel, not risk a humiliating loss. Duelling was surely something that would require a considerable physical exertion, and that was never something he would bother himself with if there was no chance of some tangible, worthwhile result.

"As I said in my letter, I'm fairly sure that I've mastered the disarming charm, but I think it's quite hard to gauge 'mastery' by results against a training dummy. Those don't move after all, nor do they have particularly tight grips.. I almost disarmed one whilst horifically mispronouncing the incantation." Almost disarming may have been an exageration of what had happened, barley managing to wobble the false wand, but he had to make Saunders agree with his low praise of the training dummies.

"And having said that, it brings me to why I bought you here today. First," he rose to his feet, as he began his list. "just wanted to double check if you had progressed with anything on that list, or had waited? If you've waited, thank you, and I think we should both proceed with all of those now that I am hopefully caught up. Second," He reached down to his pocket, withdrawing his own wand, one that was visibly crafted of cherry wood and a little bit over a foot in length. "I think we should try to disarm one another, see if we can actually catch a moving target."

"And finally." He paused, a grin once more playing at his lips, excitement leaking into the tone of his voice. "We duel. But not now. After the holidays when we get back to Hogwarts, we should duel then." He finally concluded, looking over towards the other boy, hoping that he shared in his excitement.

Saunders listened to Edwin intently, his right eyebrow arched and his left foot bouncing to a certain rhythm. Having heard that Edwin confirmed his prediction was correct, that their hours spent here would culminate in a duel, Saunders' grin widened. His words were plausible, and Saunders appreciated the fact that Edwin spoke with sincerity throughout. Especially when Edwin admitted, with a visible strain that made the confession almost painful, that the practice dummies alone were not enough to master the Disarming Charm. He had not resorted to hallow bravado or any grandstanding as shallow as a pond in a drought - a rare trait, indeed.

"Well then," Saunders responded, uncrossing his legs and sitting upright, "thank you both for the explanation and invitation." His eyes, though he was not sure if it was noticeable, sparkled with a certain degree of excitement. "I haven't practised any spells from our list," he added, "after all, honour is not..."

He hesitated. The version of the sentence in his head ended with "... exclusive to you lions." But Saunders recalled perfectly from their conversations at the library that Edwin was not exactly fond of being associated with his house. Instead, therefore, he finished his sentence with a rather vague phrase, "... exclusive to others." Whatever that was supposed to mean... He just hoped that Edwin would not uncover what Saunders had originally intended to utter.

"In that case," the young snake continued, now slowly rising from his chair, "today you can practise the Disarming Charm on someone a bit more responsive than a practice dummy." He gave Edwin a slight bow, one fitting for the prelude to a duel, and pointed his own wand crafted from cherry wood. "I see you've already got yours at the ready," he said with a playful and inviting grin, "well then, give it a try."

@Edwin Westbridge

Edwin offered a small nod at Saunders' comment about honour, the pause having been entirely unnoticed by the Gryffindor. He was pleased that Saunders also had not proceeded with the other spells on the list, not wanting to be stuck permanently playing catch up. Now that they were level, it excited Edwin to see who would be first to master the rest of the list.

As the other boy rose from his seat, standing opposite Edwin on the makeshift stage, a grin began to play at the boys lips, his eyes briefly drawn Saunders wand, which was crafted from the same wood as Edwins. Wand lore was not something that Edwin claimed to have any knowledge of but between a shared interest, and a common wand material, it did not seem unlikely that there could be a link there something, a link that Edwin had a sudden urge to read into. However, he only allowed his mind to wander for only the briefest of moments, as there was a far more exciting opportunity before him.

Whilst the bow often seemed unnecessary to Edwin, the theatrics of it did once again bring about a small grin on the boys face. He returned the bow, before directing his wand in the direction of the Slytherin. "Very well." The response almost seemed uncharacteristic of Edwin, no trace of his usual bored drawl. Instead, he spoke with a very genuine sense of excitement. Having his wand pointed at another person was a unique feeling, one that he had not expected. He would only be attempting to disarm Saunders, but a more accomplished wizard would have so many options at hand, all of which immediately available simply by pointing a wand in somebodies direction. There was also an unexpected pressure, if he was to cast a spell on another person, it absolutely could not fail. That was not a risk that he would be willing to take.

"If I miss, or in some way fail, you should then attempt to disarm me instead. He began confidently. "Not that that's likely, however!"

Since he had corrected his mispronunciations, and slight misjudgement in casting motions, he had not once failed at casting the disarming charm, and he had no intention of this being the first failure. "Expelliarmus!" He spoke, a jet of scarlet light shooting from the tip of his wand, flying towards Saunders.

Saunders, for a fleeting moment, had noticed Edwin’s eyes lingering on his wand. “I wonder,” he thought, “if he knows much about wandlore?” Yet as the young snake's gaze fixed on his ambitious practice partner's wand, as if he were Edwin's reflection in a mirror, Saunders realised that this assumption was not quite correct, as their wands were unmistakably alike -- both made from cherry wood. Well, Saunders and his wand had shared a strained relationship since its very first moment in his hand, a tension that gnawed persistently at his curiosity. That memory of the day he met his wand lingered vividly. The aged wandmaker had spoken in cryptic terms, emphasising at great length how cherry wood paired with a unicorn hair core was far from being "ordinary.” The man had even confessed to a genuine sense of curiosity about what this “experimental” wand might accomplish in Saunders’ hands, his eyes betraying an irrepressible spark of intrigue. So far, Saunders believed he had wielded it capably enough. Yet something about the wand always left him feeling as though he had placed a glass teapot on a roaring fire. Theoretically, he knew the glass wouldn’t shatter from the heat, but its fragility made him feel it might burst into shards at any moment. Similarly, his cherry-wood wand had never yet behaved unpredictably, but the possibility of such an occurrence stretched through his chest like a thread of tension, tightening tighter and tighter with each passing day.

Despite such thoughts, Saunders watched Edwin closely, intrigued by how he adhered to duelling etiquette yet refrained from using the curt, bored tone he had adopted during much of their first meeting. There was something more profound than mere shared excitement for Defense Against the Dark Arts between them. It was a larger bond, he assumed, the fervent desire to excel, the honest exhilaration such ambition stirred.

When Edwin made a self-assured remark, Saunders couldn’t suppress a smile -- one totally free of mockery. “There’s no need to remind me,” he replied. “I’m positive that you’ll cast a perfectly adequate Expelliarmus.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he said it though. His voice lacked the patronising tone of someone trying to encourage a timid friend, nor was it consoling. Nay, Saunders genuinely believed Edwin Westbridge would succeed; not from blind faith, but from the subtle kinship he had begun to feel, a likeness yet to be fully unraveled. Edwin had to succeed for Saunders to see him as a wizard worthy of practising magic side by side. Because the Napier boy didn’t want to be trailed by someone who struggled through the spells on the list, requiring weeks to master their incantations as he did not want to be Edwin’s teacher, but his practice partner, someone who could push him as much as the young lion pushed back.

His hopes were richly rewarded when his gaze met with the flash of light emanating from Edwin’s wand. The sight struck a chord in his memory, for it closely resembled the light Saunders himself had produced during his recent attempts at the Disarming Charm. Having hit his wand, the spell managed to wrench it from his grip. It spun through the air before landing with a decisive thwack. “Brilliant!” Saunders enthusiastically exclaimed, stepping toward his wand. “That was truly impressive, congrats!”

Then, with measured steps, he closed the gap between them, giving Edwin’s arm a light nudge. “I knew you’d pick it up quickly,” he said. With a grin that sparkled with playful confidence, he added, “Surely you won’t insist I prove I could disarm you too? I trust you’ll take my word for it...” As he began to step backwards, his gaze locked with Edwin’s, “So, Westbridge,” he asked, his voice tinged with a teasing edge, “what’s next for two masters of disarming?”

@Edwin Westbridge

Saunders apparent confidence in Edwins abilities earned only a small grin, and nod of acknowledgement. Whilst a praise of confidence was reassuring, he would have to focus on the task at hand - casting his spell. If his concentration slipped for even a moment whilst he attempted to cast, he was worried his spell would backfire, or in some way cause another unfortunate accident, which would not be the greatest display of his talents.

Casting a spell came with a rush that was otherwise irreplaceable, nothing Edwin had ever experienced created the same rush of adrenaline, and from his current perspective, he struggled to imagine any future experience would ever be able to. He watched as the jet of scarlet shot from his wand, flying true on its course towards its target, Saunders. It wasn't often that Edwin felt proud of his work, mainly due to not often having completed much work, but as he watched the wand Saunders was ripped free of his grasp, he felt that feeling of pride surge within him, a broad grin stretching across his face. "That was good." He agreed immodestly, watching as Saunders move to retrieve his wand.

"It wasn't too hard, to be fair." He returned the nudge, before a look of confusion flashed over his face. "I mean, you needn't prove it, I believe you, but.." He rose his wand, loosely gripping its end, and swaying it in the air infront of Saunders, as if trying to lure him. "That rush when you cast a spell, are you sure you don't want to give it a go? No feeling like it, and casting it against a dummy isn't even the half of it." That feeling of spell casting had been enough so that had he not been with Saunders, he was almost certain he'd of thrown himself into something else immediately, likely trying to tick off items from the list of spells that they'd come up with.

"Napier," He began. "What's next, you ask? I think what's next is we both master the remaining spells on that list. The holidays are soon, and we use that time to master spells.." He paused for a moment, frowning. He probably couldn't cast magic whilst at home, whilst he lived in a magical household and magic would constantly be cast in that home, he didn't want to chance some underaged magic trouble. "Then we have one more week after the holidays, and then we duel."

"But, whilst we're here, is there any spells we've learnt in classes that you'd like to try? Seems a good of a chance as any."

The rush from spell casting was unfortunately a rush that did not last long, any excitement or adrenaline he had felt already beginning to fade. Edwin also had an unfortunate hunch that feeling wouldn't be recreated the next time he was trying to cast a spell, maybe he'd experience it once he got into his first duel, but otherwise, he felt like he'd be chasing that sensation again for a long while.

"Yeah?" He grinned at the prospect of practicing third year spells, however unlikely it seemed that they'd manage. He nodded at the mention of the full body-bind curse, a spell that he too dreamed of casting, but, alas, there was no way the teachers would ever allow students to study so far ahead, nor was it likely that they could safely practice the spells if Edwin was to entirely honest with himself. "Even something like getting rid of Boggarts, that'd be cool." He added, before a brief pause. "Though, now that I mention it, I don't even know what my boggart would be." A werewolf, perhaps? He pondered, his confusion evident across his expression. He couldn't even be sure if he was truly afraid of werewolves, or anything that immediately sprung to his mind, an unfortunate reminder that he was, perhaps, closer to a stereotypical Gryffindor than he ever cared to admit.

His brief moment of distraction was shattered when Saunders spoke again, forcing Edwin back into the moment. "No, of course not the stupid sparks," He snorted, offended at the notion that those were the spells he was interested in. "Muggles do fireworks quite well." He noted with a nod of his head, given that he grew up in an area so filled with muggles, he had, on many occasions, witnessed their versions of fireworks, which he had grown to appreciate. "But, no." He shook his head dismissively. "Flipendo and the Curse of Bogies are both fairly good spells, even if one seems somewhat childish."

He fell quiet as Saunders turned, pacing away. Saunders presumptions were quickly proven to be correct, as Edwin quickly grew bored in the silence, which was only broken by the noise made by Saunders steps. He began idly turning his wand over in his hand, admiring the craftsmanship. Wandlore, he reminded himself, intent to go and research the apparent meaning behind his wands wood, and core.

It was just as he was turning the wand over in his hand that he was suddenly holding onto nothing, having barley even recognised the incantation that had been called. "Oh, my." He drawled with a grin, as his wand clattered against the wooden floor a few feet behind him. "Very crafty," He wandered back over towards his wand, retrieving it and dropping it into his pocket.

"Of course," He continued. "Who'd ever want to break tra-." He cut himself off, a small grin on his face as the irony dawned on him. He was someone who had broken many family traditions with his placement alone, and his attitude towards his work was far from befitting a tradition Westbidge. After a moments pause, he continued. "That aside, are you fine with those plans? Try master all of those spells on the list we wrote, and then we duel once we return to Hogwarts."