Winging It
The class was presented with a task; practice the somatic components for turning a whistle into a pocket watch. There was an obnoxious din in the room, but beneath it all she swore she could hear some of her peers whispering incantations in tandem with their wand waving. Her own wand was loosely held between the tips of her fingers. She had the remainder of the class to figure this out; no need to rush.
She observed how her peers wrists twisted and jerked. Too much of that looked like it could be painful in their twilight years were they muggles. Getting a feel for the balance of her wand she ignored how it somewhat dug into her palm. She had yet to get it fitted with a suited handle. It wasn't on the top of her to-do-list and even should she not get to it before break her family surely would. She could already envision the herbalist-chic grip her aunties would surprise her with.
Adjacent to her was a familiar boy. Were it not for the robes she'd still recognize him as someone that should be familiar. She couldn't recall a name having only paid attention to him once the sorting hat had added him to Ravenclaw's fold. Many moments leading up to that decision the boy didn't matter. Once it had been made he did. It was really simple as that. Father said her house would be like family and that she should act accordingly. Still, she wouldn't engage with him, at least not to start. Figuring out the nuisance of when to include oneself was difficult.
People had been talking near her all class. It was unknown to her whether or not she was a part of any of the ongoing conversations. She was careful not to tilt her head or cast her gaze as people attempted to take turns a breath away from her. She could pick up on excitement, impatience, and something exhausting she couldn't name. A hello was lodged in her mouth for a few minutes after being given their class work before she had let it fade from a promise into what for some be a regret. Bringing focus to a shared burden she has found was always the best way to assert herself.
"Are we supposed to roll our shoulders you think?" Gently tapping the table near Clay with her free hand, she tried her best not to cut into anyone's banter; another's ire counterproductive for father's wishes for her. Some of her classmates were waving their wands with their entire arm from the shoulder down. Revaluating she saw some straining their necks as well. The human condition a shared one she was once again reminded of the pain muggles endured. Consequences in comparison felt weightless as a witch. She dared to hope for something heavy to better ground herself with.
She observed how her peers wrists twisted and jerked. Too much of that looked like it could be painful in their twilight years were they muggles. Getting a feel for the balance of her wand she ignored how it somewhat dug into her palm. She had yet to get it fitted with a suited handle. It wasn't on the top of her to-do-list and even should she not get to it before break her family surely would. She could already envision the herbalist-chic grip her aunties would surprise her with.
Adjacent to her was a familiar boy. Were it not for the robes she'd still recognize him as someone that should be familiar. She couldn't recall a name having only paid attention to him once the sorting hat had added him to Ravenclaw's fold. Many moments leading up to that decision the boy didn't matter. Once it had been made he did. It was really simple as that. Father said her house would be like family and that she should act accordingly. Still, she wouldn't engage with him, at least not to start. Figuring out the nuisance of when to include oneself was difficult.
People had been talking near her all class. It was unknown to her whether or not she was a part of any of the ongoing conversations. She was careful not to tilt her head or cast her gaze as people attempted to take turns a breath away from her. She could pick up on excitement, impatience, and something exhausting she couldn't name. A hello was lodged in her mouth for a few minutes after being given their class work before she had let it fade from a promise into what for some be a regret. Bringing focus to a shared burden she has found was always the best way to assert herself.
"Are we supposed to roll our shoulders you think?" Gently tapping the table near Clay with her free hand, she tried her best not to cut into anyone's banter; another's ire counterproductive for father's wishes for her. Some of her classmates were waving their wands with their entire arm from the shoulder down. Revaluating she saw some straining their necks as well. The human condition a shared one she was once again reminded of the pain muggles endured. Consequences in comparison felt weightless as a witch. She dared to hope for something heavy to better ground herself with.
Last edited by Noirin Polkinghorn on 4 Jan 2026, 14:53, edited 1 time in total.
Winging It
@Noirin Polkinghorn
"Those idiots are swinging their wands around like a troll hurls a club to swat a fly."
Clayton offered back in jest. Clearly mocking the blatant display of inaptitude among his peers. "But no, I don't think that much movement can be right for an elementary spell like this one." He shook his head and turned it back to the face of his desk. His own movements were much smaller. He considered his own practitions as a private matter. His body language only enforced this. Still, his head tilted back towards his Ravenclaw compatriot. "But do not mind them. In theatre we call them 'extras'."
His gaze finally graced his fellow student with its presence. "Oh, I've seen you around. The freckles, yes." It wasn't phrased like an insult, rather just a recollection of previous musings. Within seconds freckles began to appear on his own cheeks, slowly fading in and out as if they were testing out which spot on his skin seemed the cosyiest. Clayton always studied people's faces. Without him realising yet, he also liked to categorise them by interesting features. Like he was working with a scrapbook and cutting out his favourite magazine snippets.
"I am Clayton. Clayton Lamont. You know, from the Lamont? I'm sure you are familiar with the name." A smirk would remain plastered to his face as he presented himself. "My mother might not bear it in public, but it is still a houshold name in the papers." He leaned back in his chair to practice further and waited for the girl to realize how lucky she was to have been seated next to him. And that in transfiguration no less. Boy, was she in for a show.
As soon as he set foot in this classroom he knew this was going to be the stage for his debut. A renowned practitioner of the transfigurative arts. A master of mutation who would grow up to be even more spectacular than his beloved mother, the great Gloria Shine. The more he thought on the matter the more brusk his wand movements became. Surely he had got the hang of it now?
Winging It
She hadn't expected so many words so fast. Freckles was an efficient descriptor. It was especially so that this season had been sunnier than most. She could have easily let this Clay's assumption remain uncontested, his introduction all but assuming her mind. "I don't. I'll be sure to keep an ear out for it from now on though."
Her stare never broke from boring into his left eye as she watched his skin gain scattered bits of pigment. Aunties had taught her that trick early on; that if she were going to stare like a demiguise anyway she should at least do it properly by focusing on a single eye. "Your skin reminds me of sand." It was the best way she could put what she was witnessing to words. Sand shone and was constantly moving. Ah, but it was also coarse and dry wasn't it? She didn't bother preemptively apologizing.
With nothing to add she turned to her wand-work seeing as he apparently had returned to his own. Hers consisted of disjointed movements as if she were learning the steps to a dance. Her senses no longer focused on one person were able to again pick up on what her peers were up to. Entirely to herself but audibly she muttered "Is he an extra now?" Rin hadn't recognized the earlier jab at her classmates save for likening them to Trolls. She noted Clay's gestures while sharp and confident didn't appear like they could smart. Just like that he reobtained her full attention. "Do that again, please."
Her stare never broke from boring into his left eye as she watched his skin gain scattered bits of pigment. Aunties had taught her that trick early on; that if she were going to stare like a demiguise anyway she should at least do it properly by focusing on a single eye. "Your skin reminds me of sand." It was the best way she could put what she was witnessing to words. Sand shone and was constantly moving. Ah, but it was also coarse and dry wasn't it? She didn't bother preemptively apologizing.
With nothing to add she turned to her wand-work seeing as he apparently had returned to his own. Hers consisted of disjointed movements as if she were learning the steps to a dance. Her senses no longer focused on one person were able to again pick up on what her peers were up to. Entirely to herself but audibly she muttered "Is he an extra now?" Rin hadn't recognized the earlier jab at her classmates save for likening them to Trolls. She noted Clay's gestures while sharp and confident didn't appear like they could smart. Just like that he reobtained her full attention. "Do that again, please."
Winging It
@Noirin Polkinghorn
"You... don't?" Clayton looked aghast as he mumbled the words to himself. His expression rapidly turned into one that took offence until it finally settled in quiet questioning of sanity. She had to be one of them muggles then? Ah, that would be a shame. Clay would not wish such a hard life on anyone. To be of less 'talented' descent. Still, with enough practice, anyone could become a part of center stage.
But he was getting ahead of himself again. Perhaps she merely grew up in different circles. One could not fault someone for their parents' influences in their lives. Clayton's smirk returned to where it once was as he left the matter to rest in his head. Perhaps for the best, because the next blow would come to him even harder.
"Sand??" He grimaced. Ugh, no, that was horrible. At once the freckles on his face would fade like one would brush off some specks of dust from their sleeve. Honestly, what was he supposed to say to such a response? Was it even meant as complimentary? His eyes narrowed as he mused on the girl's remark for a moment. Before he could utter any inquiry, she cut in with a request.
Baffled once more, it seemed Clay was in for a rollercoaster of mixed feelings. Now she was requesting... help? He was supposed to provide her with an example? So she could mimic him? How odd for him. Clay had never been asked to 'help' with anything. His brother liked to take charge and believed he could bare most of the work alone all the time. His mother and staff had no need of his talents. And now... this.
"Y-yes." He stammered, trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered confidence from before. "Yes, of course." He smiled, almost genuinely, though the word surprise could just have well been etched on his forehead. Clayton pulled his sleeve back for better visibility and turned to face his neighbour. "See, I sort of just.." He let his wand slide to the middle of his palm before tightening his grip. With a quick, but precise, twist of the wrist he flicked it around to the other side. Like he had just turned a handle.
His eyes looked up to try and see if she understood what he meant. "I believe the important part here is intent. Perhaps confidence just as much?" He said that last line like a question, realizing too late that he was playing the part of the mentor here. He quickly recovered with a determined stare. Reverting to the only subject he did know: his beloved theatre. "Be elegant and precise. Know what you want to achieve and dive right in. Like when you would enter a stage. You have to assume your role. And now your role is that of the caster." Clay's face nodded excitedly, nudging the girl to try.
"You haven't given me your name yet." He pointed out as he observed what she would do.
Winging It
@Clayton Lamont
This boy was an expressive one. He didn't act like her father in manner, but something about the pace at which he was moving equated the two in her mind. She moved at a slower, more deliberate pace. Rin laxed her grip until her wand slid down her wrist; the tip touching her fingers where Clay's were touching his.
"Do you think their make matters?" Her words overlapped somewhat with a part of his lesson; a reminder of why she usually kept to herself. She caught enough of it though to conclude that he was trying to instill her with confidence as much as he was for himself. Twisting her wrist as he had she felt the tug of gravity push down onto the point of her wand.
"You make it look less heavy than I do." Again she spoke over him; this time as he asked after her name. The timbre of their voices were different enough that she was quickly learning to understand his over the hum of her own. "Noirin Polkinghorn. Nicknames are fine, but I may forget they're meant for me." Adjusting her starting position she glanced at Clay. "Even if they should be obvious; like freckles." Had she not witnessed them apparate on the boy's face it wouldn't have occurred to her that meant for, as her.
She had been called thick in the recent past. Sometimes it was purely nasty because she frustrated someone. Other times it was more of a compliment as if missing details gave her some kind of shield against the world. Rin was inclined to agree with the former opinion of her inner workings. Attempting the magical maneuver again the wand once again tilted forward. "A handle does have a purpose." More self-aimed commentary as she went down the list of what would be needed to acquire one. She'd have to borrow an owl to contact her father or was it a provided service? If she had been told already it went through one ear and out the other. Thick indeed.
Winging It
@Noirin Polkinghorn
"Yes. I'm sure they matter," Clay responded earnestly. "There are enough stories out there where a poorly made wand means the death of a wizard," he explained. "Unless you had the Wand of Destiny, in which case merely owning that thing gets you killed." He was incapable of leaning back even further in his chair; as a result he simply slid an inch lower into it.
"Not that the topic concerns me. My family provides." He smirked in surprise. Was he now showing off? Curious what school can bring out sometimes. "Can't leave an actor on stage without his props, ey? Though, mind you, one day I will have no need of them."
He nodded at her name. Polkinghorn did not sound familiar straight away; though, by now he had grown used to that feeling. More than half the castle of Hogwarts was a mixed bunch of lesser-knowns or never-were. Au contraire to his brother, he found it quite amusing. He never got to see these sorts of extras on stage. An actress like Noirin was to him like enjoying a play in another language. They had the same somatics in engagement, but the tone could be so different.
Clay had to let out a chuckle at her comment on freckles. "I meant no offense, I swear." He lifted both hands in surrender. "I have a habit of pointing out one's appearance. In my family's line of 'work' it is prudent to notice the details."
"You miss a counterweight." He agreed with Noirin as he pointed out the obvious by now. "Not all wands are the same, after all. With a heavy tip, perhaps yours is meant for potions," he theorized as he let his own wand drop in his hand like a pen and made a slow swirling movement, as if he were managing a cauldron. His hand suddenly felt so... inelegant with inexperience.
"Not mine, I'll tell you that much," he laughed.
Winging It
@Clayton Lamont
Wand of Destiny, huh? She decided she appreciated its name; honest and to the point. Everyone was destined to die. Although, wouldn't that make all wands deserving of the name? She dropped the subject for a few minutes few too long that her question spilled out as Clay spoke of the stage and blood-ties. "What makes it so special?"
Seeing an opportunity to not speak over the boy yet again she quickly followed with "Of your family or the props?" Unless his family were the props, but she figured he would clarify such with his answer. Her adolescent mind was able to figure out that much, but not that she probably should have put 'no need' before the of. "I'm not." At least she didn't mistime those words; her housemate's hands just falling from being rose in defense.
Rin wouldn't mind that; her wand being exceptional at potions. They were practical. In theory you needed multiple people for multiple spells, but with enough time you could toss or ingest multiple potions as an individual. Stirring an imaginary pot as well her wand tilted until it rested on her forearm. Did anyone wield a wand in such a way? It was comfortable, though watching Clay brought a good point to her attention.
"We'll grow stronger for these as we get older. Unless they only chose to be with us as we are now." She grabbed and loosely folded some nearby parchment to create a rudimentary counterweight as she continued " I wonder if that's something that can be determined."
Winging It
@Noirin Polkinghorn
Clayton scoffed at Noirin's inquiry about the wand and looked at her as if she were the devil herself. Was she messing with him? "Everyone knows the tale." He spouted out, not tolerating any indication that his reality was flawed. "Go read a book on the Second Wizarding War if you need a reminder." He left it at that. It was a kindness on his part, to even grace her with that much of an answer.
"And I meant for props, by the way." The young Ravenclaw clarified quickly. "Not that I won't step over a few blood relations if I have to." His eyes seemed to be covered in shadow as darker thoughts swirled through his mind. "In fact, I expect there will be one in particular."
The girl's musings on wand lore were beginning to bore him. Honestly, he was just here to learn to wave this stick around for a few years before he would dispose of it altogether. As an aspiring actor he would need to learn to perform without one. No true legend in the dramatic arts was worthy of their name if they couldn't do that. The audience must never know what was coming. "Beats me." Clayton shrugged finally.
Through the rest of class he would stick to the basics of etiquette and listen politely to any more questions on wand lore Noirin may pose to both him and herself. Though he would steer clear of forming any real opinions on the matter. The last thing he needed was for people to begin describing him as 'bookish'. Not that he couldn't prove to be a fount of knowledge. But mainly on the subjects he preferred to talk about. Such as himself.
At the end of practice, Clayton would nod politely and begin putting away his books and wand. "It was nice meeting you Noirin." He said with a tone that sounded sincere. "I'm sure I''ll see you around, we are in the same year after all." He smiled. "But now I'm off to find my twin. He has gone too long without my pestering." Mischief sparked in his suddenly bright red eyes. The boy turned on his heels and let his cloak flutter in the wind as it was loosely draped over his shoulder.
[Clayton will leave the scene unless he is stopped for some reason]