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	Across from her, down near the other end of the table, a pale boy with short cropped hair had been stirred from his own leather-bound tomes.He had seemingly not made much of a fuss at her slamming of the books, but he grew frustrated as the second incursion against his peace came: “Now, to figure out how the magical world works." “What?” He said, quite sharply. The boy had clearly misunderstood, having taken her words as meant for him. His pleasant features were disarming, and in juxtaposition with the venom that laced his tone, perhaps she wouldn’t know what to make of him. Whatever the case, he was a young Slytherin student, as told by the house tie he wore fastened to his collar at a near perfect position; looking put-together but not over-done. It took a moment for her words to register properly, as though he heard them the first time, but he needed to remember them amidst the swell of information he was also consuming: “You’ll be at it a long time then.” The boy gave a chuckle, turning the yellowed pages of what looked to be a tome on Latin, of all things. He was making out like he didn’t know much, but his candor spoke of someone that had enough experience to think that perhaps he had more experience of it than she did, which was an assumption he made as he spotted her mechanical pencil; lowering his own small quill to place it back into the pot of ink nearby. Avery hadn’t quite made the head or tail of the school just yet. Contrary to her, he had anticipated this his whole life and was seemingly doing so without much issue. And a part of him seemed to recognise that difference in them, as he turned his attention from his book properly, to look at her up and down in an overtly judgemental fashion. “Leveret, Avery Leveret. - I assume by your words, and your contraption, you’re muggleborn?” He gave, though his features masked the intent behind his question, offering a winsome smile instead.
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	To her reply, he could do nothing but sprout the widest shit-eating grin that he could muster. Her sharp rebuttal was something he hadn’t expected, especially when he hadn’t meant to put her down; that was just how he came across. A glint of admiration was flecked throughout his dark irises, as she continued to speak; which he let her do so without interrupting; as though he was goading her forward across the battlefield that was their verbal spar. Part of him wanted to poke fun, perhaps a well placed cat-hiss would press her buttons? Would she explode? Variations of this scenario played in his head, amusing him more than her actual reaction. “Well if you must know, Finley Alekhin, we purebloods are proud of our family names and so we speak them first. Now-” He said as he met her challenging stare, as he swept his books in his arm to shift down the table; talk about intimidating. He was just across from her now, still wearing his smile: *“I didn’t say anything bad* about muggle-borns or halfbloods, I meant that the magical world is vast for all of us but if you want to put words in my mouth that’s fine. I’ll play along.” He gave with a worse, more punchable, smile. The sorting hat had definitely placed him right, given by his near constant smirk. “You’re more interesting than I’d like to admit, Alekhin. - I’d expect a halfblood to have some knowledge of our world, but that does explain why you wield that thing. -” He gestured to her mechanical pencil again. “ - But we Slytherin aren’t polite.”** Avery broke his gaze, relenting his forward demeanour, he was done having fun and he seemed to visibly relax, and his smile now held less venom as he reopened his tome and plucked the quill from his inkpot; was he seriously going to act like nothing happened and just sit there doing work? Yes he was.
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	His eyes returned to her when she addressed him: “Well, Avery.” This was sure to be good. “You're not all that interesting to me, if fact, I'm almost positive I have you figured out. And for your information, it's called a pencil. Some of us prefer not to live in the dark ages anymore. Though I guess I could give you a pass. It's kind of hard to understand what you're missing when you've never experienced it. - Perhaps you should let go of tradition and improve.” She had practically hissed at him before she poked her tongue at him, and that was when he lost his smile and all that was left between them was his dark stare, and the ashes of potential. Had he an appetite for this? He didn’t quite know. Like her he was new to the school, to situations that involved more than just he and his brothers. Perhaps that was it, perhaps he had caused this by not putting much thought into what he said. Though, perhaps she just didn’t understand him, she was defending the life of muggle modernity as though it was Merlin’s deliverance. Avery wasn’t too sure how best to respond. Much like his wizard-chess, his opening was always strong but his mid-game had weaknesses, and she had seemingly discovered them and disarmed him. It was an odd feeling, one he felt the sting of as he instinctively rotated the quill in his hand as though in thought. That was until it came to him then, as things usually did. He had a way of making use of things, and this was no different. It was as though their friction had caused a spark that was his to harness, competition often lead to growth, afterall. “Alright, Finley. - It seems the eagle has talons indeed.” He gave, beginning to collect his things in a more measured manner than when he had swept them down opposite her. “I’ll be the first to admit that it’s a pain to keep having to clean up ink spills and keep a supply of it, but there’s value in tradition. - And if you can’t see that, I doubt we’ll find any common ground.” He gave, in a mostly tame manner as he piled his books, making ready to return to his end of the table or leave this one entirely: “So have at it, Half-blood. - I’ll improve, and I’ll do it proudly, and better than you.” He said finally, the venom returning to his voice. He said it with such self-assuredness as though it was a certain fact. His inner nerd needed some academic competition, and he had accidentally forged such motivation.
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	Things were getting quite heated, he could tell. Avery may well have fumbled into this, and he had even fanned the flames but if he wasn’t careful he’d find himself duelling in the library, and that wasn’t to do so soon in the year; though the image of slung spells and singed papers made for a rather visceral mental performance. Focus, Avery. Had he pressed too hard? He didn’t think so. Their first few interactions were mostly light-hearted and it came down to the words he had elected to use, words he was probably far too used to. Though he was nothing if not stubborn, and proud and… – He had chosen to nurture this flame and now he was reaping the results, though he wouldn’t back down directly; he’d instead opt for the drawn out conflict. The pale boy pushed himself up, having tidied his books and quill before he offered his retort in a completely pleasant manner. “Now who’s making assumptions, I suppose now we'll have to see." He gave, the remnants of a smirk growing on his lips again. "I don’t judge you, Finley, I don’t even know you.” He added. A cowards move? Perhaps. Infuriating all the same? Quite possibly. The snake decided that an almost polite indifference would speak for itself, that any attempt at ‘proving’ it now would prove a miss-step and that any further mention of his apparent superiority was something that could well end up biting him in the ass if he wasn’t careful. After all, blood was just that, no matter what he’d been told; it didn’t mean victory. The prim-and-proper boy straightened his back, clasping his books and offering her one last glance before he began to walk away from the table entirely, probably for the better. He was sure he would see her again, though he expected that it would probably be at the end of his wand, if anything. For now, he had to consolidate. To deliberate. To, improve.
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Complete The Wild World of Magic PV Avery Leveret