Grain and Graphite PV Zephyr

Zephyr had been at Hogwarts for just over a week, and there were days when it still didn’t feel real. The castle was incredible with its moving staircases, talking portraits, and food that appeared out of nowhere, but besides that, it was also loud, confusing, and full of people who seemed to already know how everything worked, while he didn’t. Growing up on a farm in the muggle world meant magic had never been part of his life. His mum was a muggle while his dad was a pureblood who kept his real identity from them all his life. He left the wizarding world to live with his mom, and that had been his life ever since.

Whenever he felt overwhelmed or homesick, which was often, he would go to the great lake. He found this big willow tree by accident on his second day. It was huge, old, with thick branches low enough to climb without putting a lot of effort. The first time he climbed it, he sat there for more than an hour, with his feet dangling and watching the water below. It reminded him of sitting on fence posts back home whenever he took breaks while his dad worked nearby.

Since then, he would come back whenever he could. Sometimes he would sketch the castle, the lake or the mountains from up there. Other times, when he's got more time, he would carve at the base of the tree. Wood carving was one of the few things he was confident about. His dad taught him the basics when he was little, and his uncle, his mum’s brother, showed him more detailed work later on. Together, they made toys, even decorations for the house.

That day, he was bored and missing home again, as usual. He was sitting on the foot of the tree and was busy continuing the carving he'd been working on for days. The bark of the tree was showing the face of an old man. He started it a few days ago, and now it is halfway done. It was turning out well; his dad would be proud of him if he saw this. He pushed the tool too hard, and the chisel slipped from his grasp. It was followed by a sharp crack as a thin splinter snapped free instead of shaving off cleanly. He paused... “Crap..." He pulled his hand back and checked his fingers. Good, he's not hurt anywhere. He exhaled and frowned at the bark. Only then did he become aware of movement. When he looked around, he saw a girl sitting among the stones near the water, something in her lap. She must have heard the sound and heat creep up his neck. He didn't mean to disturb anyone. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Still crouching at the base of the willow tree, Zephyr froze as soon as he heard the girl's voice. He immediately felt the heat rising in his cheeks. What did I do? Glancing in her direction, there was one thing that came to mind, she looked so intense and annoyed too. Her voice had that edge that caused him to explain himself while stuttering. “I wasn’t trying t-- I mean. I just--” It was a first for him to experience brain freeze and he sounded stupid! He shifted awkwardly on his place, suddenly feeling nervous. “That was just a slip.”

She stopped what she's doing and approached him instead which he didn't expect. He hesitated what to do next because he was unsure if she was really annoyed of him, or that she would yell at him. She didn't do any of that and just asked him pointedly what he was doing with the knife.

He gestured at the bottom of the bark he's working on, “I…err… I’m carving...” He held up the small chisel so she could see it better. “I’m working on this. It’s just something I do when I think or when I miss home." He moved back slightly to give her some space and to see it properly. “It’s… a face. I started it a few days ago. My dad taught me how to carve when I was little.” He just got carried away with what he's doing.

Looking at her again, he was hoping she could see he really didn’t mean any harm. It was easier for him to make things than talking to people. He watched her reaction, with both hands up so she could see they were clean of the splinter. "I'm sorry if I disturb you, whatever you're working on?" Was she sketching before? He couldn't be sure if that was a sketch pad he saw or a diary.

Zephyr wondered if the girl was making fun of him? Maybe? A little, but then she was not as snappy as before. “Yes, just a slip, it happens sometimes. It’s not usually that bad.” He loves his fingers thank you very much. He hated that his cheeks were still warm. Why was he this flustered? It was just a girl, but she looked so calm and put together, and then there was him who was standing there with sawdust for brains.

She inspected his carving closely, and for some odd reasons, he held his breath. This is something that he was not used to sharing with other people especially studying his work. It was just something he does on his own. His dad would nod if he’s doing the right thing while his uncle would correct his grip. As simple as that. The girl’s voice brought him out of his musing and he almost laughed, but held back. “Thank you, but I’m very fond of my fingers to even think of sacrificing them.”

At the mention of his father teaching him well, a part of him was proud of that. “He did, he’s very patient man.” Talking about carving was easier than talking about himself. “He taught me the basics when I was little and according to him, wood’s got its own direction. If you try to force it the wrong way, it’ll split or tear. You have got to work with it.”

Heating her next words, he mentally winced, unsure if that was supposed to comfort him or threaten him. “Right, good to know.” He believed her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She looked like someone who would make it very clear if she was actually angry. Let’s not test that today, shall we? He didn’t expect her response about what she’s doing. She said she’s sketching, and even showed him her sketch book. When she turned it to him, Zephyr gladly checked it out and was impressed. The water looked real, even movement. The shading near the rocks was darker, looking like it’s deeper there. Even the ducks had shape, not just blobs. “This is great.” Nodding his head as he inspected it, meaning his words. “I draw too, and paint. Mostly landscapes, fields, fences, the barn. I like carving, sketching, painting…” It’s easier than talking.

It was her turn to ask a question about the wood carving he did. He looked at the carving as he thought about when he stated it. “I started it three days ago but ai don’t work on it the entire day, only after classes and lunch time. An hour each time? Bigger pieces take longer, depends on the detail. If I rush it, it would look bad so I just go slow.” He gestured toward the beard. “The beard takes the longest because of the shallow lines. If I cut too deep, it won’t look like hair anymore, just chunks.”

Seeing her smile, Zephyr was somehow relieved and thought to himself that maybe he had not completely made a fool of himself. "I agree, it's a bit like sketching." And he was saying that from the perspective of someone who also liked the art. Although wood and pencils aren’t the same, the idea was similar. There was involvement of pressure, angle and most importantly, patience. You don’t force it, and just let it guide you. “You have to pay attention, if you push wrong, the wood splits, just like you said, with a pencil, it breaks or smudges if you press it the wrong way.”

At her little joke about fields and barns, he couldn't help but chuckle. “Maybe...I guess you can call it that. And what about you, what's your favorite subject to draw? Do you find inspiration in nature or prefer portraits?" He would take a wild guess that it's the former considering she showed him the sketch, the water, and the ducks. Since they were talking about drawing, "I got my drawing pad with me too." He motioned toward his bag, which he had left hanging at one of the lower branches of the willow tree. Since he was busy carving, he didn't feel the need to sketch, but he always brings it with him just in case he gets a sudden burst of inspiration.

Her words sort of gave him a boost of pride, no longer embarrassed by how he had acted initially in her presence. "Well, when it comes to carving, you don't really want to rush things because if you go too fast, it's a recipe for disaster. Easy to miss things, small details, and the lines. Glancing at her as she spoke, he was curious about one thing, "Is that how you deal with your sketches too?" He grabbed the chisel and started cleaning it so he could put it in his bag. "I think that's enough carving for the day." He was satisfied with his progress; in only two more days, he'll probably be done. "When did you start drawing? What made you want to draw in the first place?”

Reducio Word Count: 686

Reducio Mention: @Isabeau Nevara

Reducio OOC Notes: Apologies for the delay!

Noticing her looking out to the lake, he followed her gaze there. The water was calm and spotted the ducks she's been sketching earlier. It was strange to think that twenty minutes ago he's only sitting here alone, carving quietly and trying not to think about home. Now he was discussing art with a girl who initially looked like she might skin him alive for disturbing her drawing. She spoke once again and told him nature was easier as it doesn't demand perfection. "I think so too, since it's nature, for me, it's already perfection in itself." As the cold breeze blew, he noticed the willow branches swayed against the surface of the water. "A tree can grow bent and still look like a tree. A field doesn't have to be perfectly straight to look good, even the lake changes every day."

When he was younger, he spent countless hours sketching hills, old fences, sheep, and patches of woodland, sometimes he painted them too, usually on rainy afternoons when there nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. "You can spend an hour drawing a field and nobody would tell you the grass is in the wrong place." A grin appeared on his lips, "Portraits are another story." His expression changed into exaggerated seriousness. "If you get one eye wrong, suddenly it's an entirely different person." He learned that lesson the hard way several times.

Looking at his bag, his skertch pad was peeking out from it. Her comment about being prepared earned a chuckle from him. "Maybe..." His head tilting at that followed by a shrug. "Or maybe I just carry too much stuff around." He glanced at the branch where the bag was hanging. "I got my tin whistle in there too. I bring it with me most of the time. When I can't focus on drawing, sometimes I climb up there." He gestured toward one of the lower branches of the willow tree. "And play for a bit, the feeling reminds me of home." His attention returned to the girl, "Previously, I thought this place was completely mad, moving staircases, floating ghosts and speaking portraits. I still think it's mad honestly. But finding a quiet place by the lake to draw or do the things I love was comforting." Curiosity got the better of him, "How many drawings are actually in that thing?" He motioned toward her sketchbook.

As she spoke about patience and care in her work, that was something he understood. He was taught him early that very few things could be rushed successfully, trying to hurry usually meant doing the same job twice. "That's true, mistakes happen when people stop paying attention because they want to rush things." he cleaned his chisel before putting it away. The old man's face in the willow was beginning to take shape now but he was satisfied leaving it for the day.

The girl shared when she started drawing and had to smile at how simple and random her introduction to drawing was. As expected to a child that young. Her next question surprised him. It may be random, but it has weight in it. Was it something he found or something he needed? He thought about his father teaching him how to hold a carving knife, and his uncle showing him how shadows could change the entire mood of a sketch, and the countless afternoons he spent sitting on fence posts staring at fields while clouds drifted across the sky. "A bit of both, I guess. I found carving first. Dad needed something to keep me occupied when I was little. Apparently I wasn't very good at sitting still."

His smile stayed as he glanced toward the unfinished face carved into the bark. "He gave me scraps of wood and show me what to do with them. Drawing came later, same with painting. Those were the things I will consider I needed. When I draw something, I slow down to check every little detail." He glanced back at her. "I like nature for the same reason you do, there's freedom in it."