Despite the Swede’s rather sloppy-looking appearance and the façade of an uncaring teenager, Felix has always taken particular pride in how he casts his spells, especially after joining the duelling team at Durmstrang. While he, of course, enjoys adding a bit of flare and pizzazz to his casting, he is always careful when he performs his spells. This is, in part, because of the scholarly pressure he places on himself, desiring to be one of the top students in his year, and the fear of being unable to live up to others’ expectations. He is also terrified of looking incompetent in front of his peers, and considering the high standards he holds for the company he keeps, anything less than the best simply won’t do. After learning a spell in class, Felix retreats to his dormitory and almost obsessively practices the proper pronunciation and incantation repeatedly until he is certain he had gotten it correct, and then he moves on to practicing the hand movements with just as much obsession. Each spell he has learned has been so carefully studied that he could recite them in his sleep. He also believes that mastering the art of spell casting is an important factor of duelling, because there is no room for errors, especially when you have a team relying on your skill. Felix believes that while duelling, a wizard must think quickly about their next move and cast it with great meaning. Any type of slip-up could easily mean a loss for the entire duelling team, and he is not willing to take that chance. While Felix may appear indifferent towards a lot of things, he cares deeply about the art of duelling and refuses to accept anything but the best. This is a standard he holds not only for himself but also for his teammates, and it has caused quite a few arguments in the past. At the end of the day, he is loyal to his team and takes his commitment to them very seriously. If Felix does ever mess up an incantation or movement, he will retreat to his dormitory and continue to obsessively practise the spell until he feels he has relearned it properly. He would not make a reappearance until his studies were complete and his shame had finally faded away. Although, upon returning, he would pretend that it didn’t matter either way to him. Word count: 401

Felix learned at a young age to be careful around others. He refused to get caught up in their games; he preferred to trust no one. This stemmed from various events in his childhood, but one that he often thought about took place at a dinner party his mother was hosting. He had overheard a group of beautiful, rather dazzling-looking pureblood ladies trash-talking his mother the moment she stepped out of the room to use the washroom. Even at his young age, he was quick to comment back and call the women out on it. After the party was over, Felix’s mother had grown upset with him, because apparently, the other ladies had complained, despite the fact that they were in the wrong. It was from that age that Felix learned physical beauty does not equal internal beauty. Felix can appreciate the beauty in nature, literature, animals, and in art, but he has always felt rather immune to the physical charms of any young pureblooded lady or man that his parents tried to introduce him to. It always seemed to have quite the opposite effect, leaving Felix to laugh at any of the fake niceties or pointless conversations that people trying to suck up to him always seemed to offer. He could normally see through their façade or would simply assume they would act like the others who came before them. Physical beauty meant nothing to him, and he couldn’t understand why the boys in his year seemed to flock around girls or other boys who often seemed to be as dull as cardboard cut-outs. Pretty, perhaps, but one-dimensional and useless as anything other than a decoration. He found relying on beauty alone to be dreadfully dull, even when classmates possessed veela genes. Unless they had a book glued to their forehead, there was nothing a beautiful person could offer him, especially if he didn’t find they were worth looking at in the first place. He viewed the physically attractive as nothing more than a parade of false praise and manipulation. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to feel attraction or want to find someone charming, but, to Felix, a person’s personality was far more important. In order to pique his interest, a person had to be intelligent and able to hold a scholarly conversation without having to rely on small talk or conversational clichés. Beauty fades, and when it is gone, it would be nice to have an interesting person to have a conversation with. Word count: 418

Being a member of the Durmstrang's Hexwizard team was not an easy task, especially when the champion of the team was as brutal as Yefim. While Felix did enjoy his friend's company, it often came with an unsetting aura he couldn't quite place his finger on. Perhaps it was his friend's recklessness or seemingly total disregard for his own safety. Regardless of how careless his behaviour was, it was something Felix found admirable. To be fearless was truly the only way to show others you didn't give a shit, and that was something Felix wanted. Admittedly Felix didn't have any fears to begin with, but there was one that he could no longer ignore, especially after he was pulled out of the Great Lake and rescued by the person he hated with all his heart. That moment had been horrifying for him, and if he didn't want to relive it, he was going to have to face his fear. He was going to have to learn how to swim. He wasn't the only one interested in fighting through fears. It seemed that Yefim wanted his team to be as strong as possible. So, with the erm... Support of his team mate and friend, he was forced to submerge himself into the depths of an icy lake, located nearby school grounds. The cold bite of the water was nothing in comparison to having the liquid surround him from all angles. He had screamed originally, pushing bubbles of air to the surface. Whether or not Yefim had noticed his struggles, his hands did not loosen their grip, keeping the Swede submerged. It was only when Felix fell limp that he released him. After catching his breath the cycle would continue. He started to ask himself why he was scared. Was it the idea of the unknown? Life itself was unknown and he wasn't afraid to live, why the hell was it that some liquid had this sort of effect on him? He had almost died once, but he was still here. It was clear to him that fear could no longer hold him down, metaphorically speaking, of course. Eventually, his mind became as numb to his fear as his body had beneath the cold surface of the water. Yefim no longer needed to hold him beneath the water once he had stopped panicking, and it turned out that once you weren't constantly flailing your arms about and losing your air supply, the human body was quite buoyant. He hadn't exactly mastered the act by the end, but he could at least do a mean doggy paddle. He even found laying on his back and allowing the movement of the water to sway him relaxing. After he had faced his biggest fear, the others seemed less relevant. A fear of his mother controlling his life was lost, because when put into perspective he could easily shake her plans off after he turned 17. Besides, he had survived almost drowning several times, surely he could face the wrath of Linnea Kolbeck. Fearing being pushed around was also lost once he had started to train for the Hexwizard tournament and build muscle tone. By the end of his 13th summer, Felix felt like he could take on the world. He wasn't afraid anymore. Word count: 548

Felix wasn't exactly known to hold his tongue when faced with situations he found beneath him or worthless of his time, or if a peer or even an adult was to inconvenience him in any minor way. As he aged further into his teen years, the Swede seemed to find more and more situations pointless, and more social interactions to be draining. So, he used his preferred 'coping method' to quickly get out of a situation; his smart mouth. It was unfortunate that he didn't have a filter of any kind, often picking fights that he had no way of winning. Punches were frequently thrown in his direction, as well as spells. He spent quite a few nights getting tended to by Durmstrang's nurse, and a few mornings listening to the howlers his mother sent him, because of course Lin managed to scold him even though she was in an entirely different country. As he wasn't strong enough to overpower his enemies during said fights, the pureblood looked for a simpler solution; just don't get hit. It was easier said than done, of course, but his years enduring one to many Incendios while dueling definitely came in handy. He began to pay closer attention to his opponent's movements during his fights or confrontations, focusing on their body language, looking for any subtle cues or shifts that could indicate an incoming punch, or the way his enemy's fingers seemed to inch towards their wands. By studying their stance, positioning, and the way they moved, he aimed to anticipate their actions and react before they even had a chance to fully enact their attack. He relied on his agility and reflexes, using his nimble nature to his advantage during confrontations. During his fourth school year the Swede even started to read up on some books about Muggle fighting, which helped him become more mindful of his own positioning during fights. The art of karate and jiu-jitsu especially peeked his interest. Through his research he quickly learned to maintain a defensive posture and keeping a safe distance from his opponents whenever possible. This allowed him more time to react and dodge incoming strikes. With his increased focus on his opponents' movements and his own defensive posture, Felix began to see improvements in his ability to avoid getting hit during fights and confrontations. Though the Durmstrang student still wasn't exactly as swift as lightning, but at least he could avoid a few more bruises and the possibility of needing to replace another leather jacket after a dueling match. And that was at least a start. Word count: 431

His newfound ability had been useful during his fifth year at Durmstrang, allowing him to dodge far more incendios than the years prior. Those first year duelists were truly a menace to society, only Merlin knew why they decided to teach 12 year olds how to summon fire at will. Felix's study of evasiveness continued well into his sixth year, especially as he had tried out to be on Durmstrang's Quidditch team. He had enjoyed his time as a duelist, but felt he had learned all he could from the position. Besides, learning to dodge large bludgers that came barreling towards you was definitely more appealing than getting burnt to a crisp by a first year that insisted on setting everything around them on fire. During practices he often would focus on sharpening his ability to dodge bludgers. Those damn iron balls required sharp reflexes and quick thinking to avoid. Whenever the opportunity came to attend a match, he would study the beaters, noting the subtle cues that indicated when they were about to strike. Dueling had taught him to read his opponent's body language, but when said opponent was on a broom several hundred feet in the air, it things tended to get a bit more complicated. The subtle eye movements and the nudge of the direction they wanted the broom to go in was a start, but the bats were more telling. Unfortunately unlike his studies last year into muggle fighting, distance was definitely not helpful when on the Quidditch pitch. Those damn bats could fling the ball too far, he would have to be hundreds of feet away. Maybe his team mates thought he was crazy when he requested they purposefully try to hit him with bludgers during practices, but Felix would be damned if he couldn't be the best at this. He could almost imagine Yefim telling him that bruises were temporary while the glory of winning would last forever. Not that the guy had actually ever said that, but it seemed like the kind of bullshit he would say to motivate Felix. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Felix finally started to feel like it was easier to translate his evasive abilities to his broomstick. He felt like the broomstick was essentially an extension of his body. Like a true dragon he was able to slink across the field, weaving in and out of clusters of players, his movements fluid and precise. Word Count: 410