Sophist Solo

"Imitation of the contrary-speech-producing, insincere and unknowing sort, of the appearance-making kind of copy-making, the word-juggling part of production that's marked off as human and not divine. Anyone who says the sophist is of this 'blood and family' will be saying, it seems, the complete truth."

-Plato, Sophist

Backdated to July 20th, 2026. Minor godmodding of @Serena Towers approved by her creator.

Lamik was approached by one of his professors about a month before the end of the academic year. As it turns out, his grades were good. Very good. Certainly better than what they were at Hogwarts. The many late nights spent at the workshop didn't hurt either, misinterpreted as they were as indicators of a healthy passion for the art of wandmaking.

There was going to be a career day at Hogwarts, with wizards and witches coming in from all over to showcase their expertise. The Wizarding Academy of Visual Arts and Design, known more commonly as WAVAD, wanted to send him in as a representative. This brought up a number of questions:

1. I don't work here. Why me?

They were trying to advertise the institution for prospective students, not employees. This struck Lamik as odd, given that it was a career fair, and being a student was not, to his knowledge, a career. If it were, he would have to find whoever was in charge and demand his overdue salary.

2. Nonetheless, wouldn't a professor be better? They know what they are doing and could, well, teach. Maybe they can do a free introductory lesson.

It was a marketing thing. The professors were payed, and there was administrative pressure on them to present the institution in a positive light. If a student were the one doing it, the advertisement would seem more genuine. The professor seemed a bit uncomfortable explaining this. Apparently, it was not her decision.

3. Would I be paid?

Another cringe from the professor. No. But she'd look into counting it as extra credit work, and see if she could give him access to the storehouses for the rest of his time at the academy. This last offer caught his attention. There were some rarer wand core materials that he wanted to experiment with, and the allowance that students were given was hardly enough.

4. What is actually expected of me?

That was, mostly, up to him. There would be some promotional material around, and he would be expected to talk to people about the wandlore courses offered by the academy, but otherwise, it was up to him.

Alright.

He had three requests, each clearly related to the others, none of which he was willing to explain. First, the booth, or wherever it was that he was situated, would be outside, on the Hogwarts grounds. He had expected this request to cause some trouble, and was pleasantly surprised when it didn't. Apparently, there was space allocated by Hogwarts for the fair which was outside, and they could reserve a spot. Second, he wanted his station to face the school. This caused a bit of confusion, but he was assured that, as he had near-complete control of the event, he could set it up facing whichever way he wished. Finally, he demanded, in no uncertain terms, that everything he would need would be waiting for him on the grounds already, such that at no point would he have to step into the castle. Here, the professor began to understand.

These terms having been agreed upon, preparations began. He was given a list of the equipment, materials, and facilities he would have access to. It seemed that they were serious about wanting him to focus on the Academy's courses on wandlore. He was a bit disappointed by this, admittedly, as he found what he had learned over the past year regarding metal enchantment and rune magic to be of incredible interest. But maybe it would be an opportunity. If the day wasn't particularly busy, he might have the chance to spend a few hours working on his own projects. Not that he expected them to amount to anything more than his previous attempts.

On June 20th, at 6:50am, he boarded the coach class car of the Mystic Pullman. He had not been to King's Cross Station in about a year when he returned home from Hogwarts following his graduation. Never had he used Platform 9 3/4 for anything other than the Hogwarts Express, so he was a little curious as to the difference.

The difference was simply this: The Mystic Pullman's coach class carriage was more crowded, less private, and generally more in line with what you would expect out of public transportation than the Hogwarts Express. He wondered if anyone on the train with him was also headed to the career fair. He didn't recognize anyone (though he only took a quick look around, and there was no reason that he should, given that he was not an acquaintance of every single wizard or witch with a job), and couldn't help but make a list in his head of everyone he knew who might be in one of the higher-class cars.

He took a seat by the window, on one of the few rows that had nobody in it. He stowed his only item of luggage - a briefcase - below his seat. As had been arranged with WAVAD, everything he would need was going to be waiting for him at Hogwarts. Nonetheless, he preferred to use his own tools when possible, and in any case, he wanted to bring along a number of designs and items he was working on.

As the train began its journey, Lamik leaned his head against the window, preparing himself for a couple of hours of silent thinking. There were, of course, other ways he could have gotten to Hogsmeade. Quicker ways. He could have taken the Floo network, for instance. That would have been fast. But the Floo network scared him, and not just because it involved walking directly into flames.

Lamik looked out the window and thought of a nightmare he once had.

He was on a cliffside over the sea. It was calm, beautiful. Sunrise. There was a light breeze, and somewhere, though he could not see where, music was playing, some string instrument, a harp, maybe. In front of him, just by the edge of the cliff, was a large fireplace made of stone, jutting out of the floor as though it were a natural formation. In the fireplace was a flame, and as Lamik approached it, he could not help but reflect on the fact that the rising sun was hidden behind the stone, and that the bands of color which stretched across the horizon in his periphery were all wrong.

He stepped into the flames and, not bothering to turn around, spoke. His voice was gone, but he did not mind. Who knew where he wanted to go?

He was sucked into the Floo network, ears roaring and stomach churning. He saw openings rush past, fireplaces elsewhere, rooms he did not recognize. On and on and on it went, a never-ending whirlwind, smoke burning his lungs and eyes, ears popping from the rapidly shifting air pressure, stomach churning, arms flailing, faster and faster and faster and faster and

all was quiet.

=============

At 10:30am, on the dot, the Mystic Pullman arrived at Hogsmeade. Lamik stepped out onto the platform, briefcase in hand. It was a nice enough day, all things considered. Looking out into the north, he saw a gray mass of rain clouds - not too thick, though, not too dark - but for now the sun was shining through. There was a gentle breeze, which he found amusing for reasons he could not begin to fathom. Yes, a nice enough day.

He took a detour, stopping at Scrivenshaft's quill shop to buy a couple of vials of everlasting ink. He was experimenting with different materials with which to create complex runes, and very few options were out of the question. After that, off to the castle grounds he went.

It was only as the castle drew nearer that the reality of the situation fully dawned on him. The old towers were older than Lamik remembered, the walls taller, the whole structure growing bigger and bigger and bigger with every step. It was a monster clawing up at the sky. Despite his request to face the castle throughout the day, he averted his gaze. There would be plenty of time to reckon with the beast later.

The Hogwarts grounds were as he remembered them. For whatever reason, they did not have the oppressive force that the castle did (so long as he stayed far from the forest and lake, at least). Even better were the students milling about, the booths being set up or already ready. He almost felt at ease for a moment, and after glancing behind him, Lamik began to search for his own lot.

Despite the dread that came from having the castle in his field of view, Lamik could not help but look up at the faces he passed. What he was searching for wasn't clear even to him: a familiar fear, a familiar hope? He almost missed her, but what he found was a familiar face.

Standing at a U-shaped arrangement of tables, Serena made for an impressive site. She donned a suit of armor, pieces of which Lamik recognized from his time under her tutelage. He could not see her shoes, and wondered briefly if she had managed to figure out the wing-shaped ornaments they had worked on together.

She spotted him and waved. He smiled and waved back. After brief consideration, he moved on.

Lamik's station was slightly nearer to the school than he would have liked. A wooden table adorned with the logo of WAVAD sat on the grass. Behind it was a tent (unenchanted, he confirmed), inside which were several small chests, bags, and cushions. The chests and bags contained everything he might need for a simple demonstration of the basic techniques involved in wandmaking and metal enchantment: Various slabs of wood and sheets of metal, a small anvil, vials containing polish, common wand cores, and various powders and tinctures, a good selection of tools meant for cold-working and carving, brushes, parchments, quills and ink, and a number of introductory textbooks.

Once he was satisfied with the equipment provided, he began setting things up. Initially, the plan was to divide the station into two sections. On the table itself would be everything having to do with metal enchantment. He would demonstrate the creation of rings, necklaces, and other pieces of jewelry using cold-working techniques, and let those interested try it for themselves. Once he had a piece done (which could take several hours, depending on what he was making), he would demonstrate placing a simple enchantment on it through the etching of a Kaunan (ᚲ) rune. Such a simple enchantment, using very rudimentary techniques, would not last very long, but if all went well, the jewelry would glow for the duration at around the level of the wand lighting charm.

But midway through setting the table up, a thought struck him. He glanced back in the direction that Serena was. She would no doubt be advertising her work as a blacksmith and metal enchantress. She was also, no doubt, significantly better than him at it. Who was he to step on her toes? No, that wouldn't be good at all. So, making a choice that would likely be frowned upon by those who sent him here, Lamik began packing the equipment back up. He decided that it would be wandmaking, which he originally intended to set up on the ground, using the chests as a makeshift table, which would take center stage.

What he offers would instead be as follows: The table was divided into two sections. On the left (his left, that is) would be a neat arrangement of objects: samples of wand-woods and cores, along with books open to particularly important pages, and an arrangement of relevant tools. He could walk any curious passerby through the process of making a wand without actually having to demonstrate the parts of the process that he hadn't mastered. The right side of the table would serve as an opportunity for Lamik to demonstrate - and for those interested to attempt - basic whittling techniques. Over the course of the day, he would, hopefully, manage to make a rather ornate dummy wand.

Finally ready, the young man considered what he was doing. In truth, he was not a fan of it. There was something disingenuous, he felt, about this form of advertisement. He was here to present an ideal. A path forward after Hogwarts. But what did he know, really, about what that path should look like? Why was he standing here?

Lamik made the effort to look up at the castle. His blood ran cold, and his chest tightened. He looked away again.