Closed A Bit of Direction PV Evelynn Decipio

The low heels of her leather riding boots clacked dully against the stone floor as she made her way down the hall. At her knee, a violin case swayed gently with the passive movement of her arm while walking. Over her other shoulder, her bookbag was held in place with curled fingers about the strap. She was minding her own, thoughts swirling within her mind both reflecting back upon her performance, and looking forward to what was to come next. Smiles and cheer had abounded on the faces of her peers. The gathering had been something of a revelation, a moment of exhilaration to witness new skills and show off their own. A chance to receive affirmation and feel the swell of pride as others marvelled at their own talent that had been honed so carefully over years of practice. And yet, as the distance between the door and her own trailing wake grew ever wider, all that she felt was a growing emptiness.

Her appearance had been one of duty. To step into the praefectorial shoes she had lauded to wear and ensure she resemble the role model she was expected to be. The chase of points for her own House had helped, as had the buffering of nerves she had somewhat worn away during the Spring Ball. Still, it was neither pride nor glee that forced her chin aloft or her shoulders erect, but rather the image she strived to maintain. And for what, exactly? She wasn't even certain of that anymore. In her hunt for the truth, she had lost herself somewhere along the way. What remained was a shell little better than the dolls that sought to wear her face... The personification of success... A shadow of perfection...

The sound of her name tossed so casually and earnestly into the empty air echoed and bounded down the hall ahead from behind. A vocabulary bola that wrapped itself around her ankles, staying her step to keep her bound in place. A turn of her chin brought stone grey eyes seeking its source. Landing themselves upon a shorter boy with raven straight hair and a case not so dissimilar from her own yielded an identity rather swiftly.

"Mister Chen," she spoke, the name a statement rather than a question as she withdrew one step to pivot herself towards him.

Just in time to see him slam on his own breaks and come skidding to a halt mere inches from her own person. Had reflexes failed her to react in time to retreat? Or had she been able to make the fleeting calculation that he would be able to stop in time before he marred her outfit and sent her careening to the floor? The absence of visible fear would lean towards the latter, but none who watched on would ever know for certain. Instead, she watched, brow lofting as the boy regurgitated an increasingly blenderized salad of an explanation, the restless combing of his hair and less than confident gaze evidence enough for her to know that this had been something of an impromptu interruption.

"...like.. me?" She echoed, more than a little sceptical about his question, a brow flaring beneath her fringe. "Headliner writer and editor.." she elaborated, reflexively correcting his less than descriptive attempt at her role with the newspaper team.

Her head had been bobbing along slowly with each of his punctuated claims—her alleged titles. And once he got to the end of it, she let the silence span for a few breaths. Well... it certainly wasn't every day that someone actually expressed any sort of admiration or desire to emulate her. If it hadn't been for the reminder of animated constructs that actually did try to be their desired targets, or for the utter bewilderment that she had been served at the sudden interjection, she may very well have been flattered.

"Take a moment to collect yourself, then try again, mn?" she suggested, offering a warm smile that she hoped to be inviting rather than intimidating. A tilt of her head accompanied the roam of her eyes as she ran them up and down the length of his person, taking stock of his specific facial features, unique characteristics, the way he dressed and carried himself, and any other information that she could file away for later. "Do you find yourself struggling to balance your activities?" she wondered, pulling her gaze back up to his.

As his sneakers skidded to a halt with a loud squeak, he barely had enough time to pull himself back together -- not that Avery Chen was ever truly put-together or composed: shirt untucked, hair a mess, shoelaces loose or undone, and an often fiendish grin. There was always a touch of childish frenzy and mirth about him. The wild boy hardly had the thought to apologize for almost slamming into the older girl before he launched into his word salad, neglecting to remember what it is exactly that he had decided to approach her for. Though his thoughts and words were often fleeting, his intention never was.

Unsurprisingly, Evelynn seemed rather perplexed by his question. However, she was thankfully unperturbed by the way he described her roles at the Headliner. Right! 'Headliner writer and editor', that's what she was. He nodded with a brief "Oh! Right!" as he filed the description away.

"Take a moment to collect yourself, then try again, mn?" Evelynn offered with a smile, which elicited a sheepish one from Avery in response. She seemed encouraging and supportive, which he appreciated. Here she was, inviting him to make this a learning opportunity instead of letting it slip by. Although she was a prefect of the same year as Koko, the way that they interacted with their first year charges were slightly different. He somehow imagined that Koko would simply give a small laugh and bluntly ask him what he actually meant, even though she would take any silly question of his just as seriously as Evelynn did. While Koko seemed a bit mischievous herself, Evelynn seemed more like the authority figure she was. Well, she was also quidditch co-captain, after all.

He took in a deep breath and gave it a try. Did he find himself struggling to balance his activities? "Oh yes, absolutely! That's what I was about to ask!" It was all coming back to him, now. He pursed his lips and thought about how to approach his question with more context. "So, before I came to Hogwarts, I practiced violin for an hour or more every day, had lessons, recitals, and participated in orchestra. I was able to finish all my homework and hang out with friends every so often. But, now that I'm at Hogwarts, all the classes are really new to me, so they can be confusing sometimes. It takes me more time to understand things. Plus, I have quidditch practice -- which I absolutely love -- and after an evening of quidditch and homework, it's so easy to be too tired to practice violin, or not practice as effectively. I also really want to hang out with my classmates and friends, and get involved in club activities. There are so many things I want to do or need to do, but I don't know if I can do it all and do them well." He paused a bit here, wondering if that was all the context he wanted to give. But it wasn't, was it? There was something else that nagged at him, that caused him to approach Evelynn, after hearing her self-introduction and seeing her talent, rather than someone else who had a million things on their plate.

"I guess I'm afraid that I won't be able to complete my violin exams as quickly as I did before coming to Hogwarts. That I'd go home and my parents would wonder what happened, because we had a plan. And then that I'll fail my exam." It was then that a look of dread crossed his face. He nibbled his lip a bit, eyes wandering off into the distance, somewhere off to the side. It was not only the disappointment of his parents and teacher that he was worried about, but also how he would be disappointed in himself -- the boy who could've been first violin in middle school, winning trophies, passing his exams at a quick pace with flying colors. He did love playing the instrument more than he hated it, and it was such a big part of his identity that he was scared he would lose, if all his efforts were merely met with disappointment and failure. The violin had defined him for the past six years -- what and who would he be if he didn't make it? It was a bit difficult to voice that last question out loud.

Instead, he asked a different question, one that he was almost as equally curious about. "Were your parents okay with you doing a bunch of other things besides violin at Hogwarts? I know you mentioned that you progressed more quickly in your exams before Hogwarts. How did they take it?" His dark brown eyes finally flickered back to the older girl and he gazed up at Evelynn earnestly.

This was still very strange to her, this notion that a student would seek her—her—out for advice and feedback. it was one thing for it to come up organically in conversation as it had with the young Mister Hui. There, they had made introductions over a nice little picnic and discussed some of his aspirations and worries, and she had shared some advice for a novice coming into the school for the first time. She supposed this wasn't wholly different, but somehow it seemed entirely extraordinary. In many ways, she felt dissociated from the moment, as though watching the interaction from afar. Did that show in her eyes? Perhaps she would never know.

A faint smile of mixed pity and amusement danced on her lips. It was hard not to feel a certain amount of understanding with the boy's frustrations. As soon as he had begun to express his plight, it was as though a string anchored at her naval had drawn her back through time. Instead of this aspiring violinist before her, it was her standing before a tall Gryffindor prefect with brown hair and a penchant for headaches. Not that she, herself, had ever had the nerve to actually seek reassurance on her own difficulties; instead, she had stubbornly ploughed ahead, using her upperclassman's guile as a compass for her own determination. Still, there was no denying the amount of herself she saw in the young Slytherin.

As he continued, she gently nodded her head in the direction of the hall and turned on her heel to take a step back in the direction she had previously been headed. They could walk and talk, she figured. Perhaps it even might ease him to some degree if she wasn't constantly appraising his reactions and demeanour as he spoke. "Walk with me as we converse?" she would request (less of a request as much as an unspoken command, really) if he didn't immediately follow. When he drew to a close, she wouldn't answer right away. The heels of her boots would clop upon the stone with every step as she digested his concerns, its echo painting the canvas of their interaction with a healthy backdrop of anticipation.

"It sounds as though you are certainly feeling a rather hefty weight upon your shoulders," she finally acknowledged, the pregnant silence that spanned between them finally giving birth to continued conversation. "I imagine you are far from the only pupil to feel torn with the struggle of balancing the new curriculum with previously upheld obligations and expectations." As they walked, her gaze swept the corridors, occasionally peaking through the portals of open doorways as they passed. But while her attention may have appeared to have been somewhat divided, her mind was very much mulling over what the boy had said.

"I think the first thing you have to accept is that this is an entirely different world. You mentioned homework before Hogwarts, so you must have been raised in the muggle world." Not a question. Rare indeed were the wizard-raised students who had anything to do with the muggle education system prior to their indoctrination into Hogwarts. Not to mention the classes being new. "It is quite a significant shift to have everything that you once held to be true pulled back like a veil to reveal a deeper, fantastical reality. Spells are real; magical creatures are not merely invocations of our imagination. It can be a difficult concept to wrap one's head around, nevermind attempting to actually master the complexities there-in.

"For any who did not grow up surrounded by these truths, who did not have a leg up practicing with their parents' wands or their older siblings' brooms...there is a certain disadvantage. And yet, your prior excellence will still lead you to hold yourself to the same standards." Turning towards the edge of the hallway, she approached a tapestry and reached a hand out to grasp at its edge. "To expect excellence in a completely novel skill set against peers with significant advantages. You need to allow yourself some time to adjust and grow accustomed to tapping that well of power within yourself." Pulling it back, she revealed a hidden archway to a descending set of stairs that disappeared into relative gloom. "It is not something that happens immediately." She would gesture the boy forward, holding the tapestry aloft that he might duck his way beneath. "It must be cultivated carefully."

"Lumos." Her wand was in her hand as she joined him in the dark, a bloom of pale white light chasing away the shadows that pressed in on them in the narrow stairwell in the wake of the closing tapestry. If he allowed, Evelynn would slip past to take the lead to descend the steps. "I can understand that it must be very frustrating to feel like you are struggling with your workload already. Especially given your desire to add even further to it. I would even consider that quite normal, in fact. There is a lot to do, a lot to see, and it is especially true for those new to the magical world to want to take it all in all at once as though in effort to make up for the last eleven years of seemingly lost time.

"However, it is also somewhat impractical, unfortunately. There are simply too many interests for too little time. You will have to be selective with your interests. I might suggest choosing a sport and perhaps one club in addition to your violin practice to occupy your time. At least initially. If you find that manageable, then perhaps consider adding another. I would also recommend grouping some of your desires together. Why not make studying a social endeavour? Your friends will require studying as well. Study together, and now it is two matters addressed simultaneously.

"But you will still find that your violin exams will not progress as quickly as you are accustomed..."

Her steps slowed until they eventually stopped—right before the vanishing step, in fact. She hadn't meant to monopolize the conversation quite as much as she already had, but evidently the boy had opened something of a pandora's box and she had a great number of thoughts to share on the matter of balance and acceptance. It was a serious topic. One that ought to be talked about in depth more than it actually was. Shoulders rose and fell with a prolonged breath, and as she exhaled slowly through her nose, she turned herself about on the stairs until she faced him. Because of her stance on the lower step, they were effectively at eye level when she continued.

"...You will not fail your exams as long as you are prepared going into them. But it is unreasonable to think that you will be able to contribute to them in the same way that you could previously. You simply do not have the same access to your instructor. Nor the same amount of time. There is a difference between studying from home, and studying abroad. The staff here have expectations of you. You're a wizard now. Not a muggle. That comes with a re-evaluation of priorities, new obligations, and altered perspectives. Your parents aren't likely to understand that at first. You may not either, in fact. But you will. And hopefully they will come to understand and appreciate your new talents as well. It took my mother some time to warm to the notion of my being a witch. She wasn't nearly as supportive of my new education initially as she is now.

"Does any of what I have said make sense?"

After elaborating upon his various questions, Avery held his breath in anticipation as to how Evelynn might react. Part of him was afraid that the upperclassman might scoff at his insecurities, and wonder how a first-year could possibly struggle with their elementary workload. Indeed, it was probably nowhere near the intensity of that of older years. Another part of him worried that Evelynn would wonder why he would bother her with his questions, by raising his troubles to her -- as someone he had just shared real introductions with for the first time -- instead of anyone else. It was with these self-doubts swimming haphazardly in his mind that he peered up at Evelynn, waiting for an answer.

At Evelynn’s request to walk with her, Avery nodded, his string of doubts momentarily broken by movement. He kept pace, listening to the sounds of their footsteps echoing across the hallway when she paused, then focusing on the sound of her words as she spoke. And, at her first words, he found himself relaxing. So, he wasn’t the only one who felt the struggle of balancing their workload upon entering Hogwarts, and she understood this. He could not detect any judgement in her tone or words, and the way she spoke reassured him that he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

"I think the first thing you have to accept is that this is an entirely different world.” At these words, Avery’s gaze shifted from their walking trajectory and back to Evelynn in mild surprise. He had thought that he had been very accepting of this fact, but had he actually done so less than he’d previously thought? He had rushed into the magical world with open arms, expecting to wholly embrace this new life as a wizard, but… perhaps he didn’t fully do so if he left one leg straddling a boat with the same expectations in his previous life. In fact, he had just begun to realize how similar he was to his good friend @Hui Ming in this respect. Ming, whom he had always simultaneously laughed at and admired about being an over-achiever, rushing to complete both muggle and Hogwarts homework. Wasn’t Avery Chen the same? Expecting to live up to the name of violin virtuoso while at Hogwarts where there were countless unfamiliar classes, social constructs, and sports? They were almost two peas in a pod, both striving to fulfill past expectations, all the while paddling like mad to conquer a flood of new expectations…

As Evelynn lifted the tapestry, he ducked underneath with a brief “thank you”. He turned her words over in his mind. It seemed that he would need to be patient. Give himself time to adjust, so that he could catch up to his wizard-born peers first. He gave a little sigh. Ah, patience. It was a virtue, he knew, but he unfortunately had very little of that. However, if there was a set list of limitations suggested by Evelynn, he felt he could follow through: Begin with one sport, one club, and violin. Already, he was overstepping these bounds with his multiple clubs, which he would have to carefully re-evaluate after this conversation…

It was here that Evelynn stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned. Grey eyes met dark brown. He regarded her words carefully, and it was here that the harsh truth hit him, hard. The small boy’s lips parted in a silent ‘oh’, but he continued to listen intently. Perhaps it was not what he wanted to hear, but it was certainly what he needed to hear. How could he possibly have truly believed he would be able to continue at the same pace as he had back at home, when he had the aid of weekly violin lessons and orchestra practice? It had seemed difficult then, even with his muggle homework – how could he possibly squeeze out 200% now that he also had quidditch practice in addition to Hogwarts coursework at boarding school? Suddenly, Avery felt… very human.

At Evelynn’s final question, Avery spoke. “Thank you for the advice, Evelynn,” he began, genuinely. “I’m really grateful you took the time to explain everything, and I actually felt really understood by you.” In fact, it was a bit surprising how well Evelynn seemed to know how he truly felt – how he could be consoled, and exactly the type of harsh truth he needed to hear. “I understand that I’ll have to re-evaluate my expectations and on where I focus my efforts, but one of the hardest things for me to do is to give something up. I don’t mean to give something up completely, I mean- to even just cut myself some slack. Anything less just somehow feels like failure.” He was thinking of violin, here. Somehow, he felt like he needed to continually reprimand himself for not keeping pace. Even if he knew he wasn’t going to be able to balance it all, logically. Somehow, he just couldn’t let himself off the hook, scott-free. It was like he had to berate himself and suffer for it if he couldn’t keep up, even though it was very unlikely that he would keep pace. It was just so difficult to simply. let. go.

The wheels continued to turn in his mind, half-thoughts forming amidst the emotions that somehow bubbled to the surface into half-formed words. “And when it comes to my parents… I think tempering their expectations is the second difficult part.” In his mind’s eye – whether it would be true or not -- he imagined his parents angry and disappointed when he would suggest delaying his exam. He paused, gears turning. But somehow, speaking aloud to Evelynn seemed to help him form his thoughts better than he would’ve when swimming among his doubts alone while clutching an unplayed violin mid-practice after making error after error, fighting his inner demons and disappointment, wondering how to face his parents and what he should do. “But, it seems that it’s more important for me to learn how to let go, first. That I believe I can succeed by redirecting my efforts and expectations. And by doing so, maybe I can become a better advocate for myself when dealing with my parents’ very different expectations.” Perhaps, if his parents could just see for themselves that he was still the same Avery who was willing to work hard and strive for success, no matter where he went or what type of life he decided to lead, they would receive some comfort. And if he believed he could find success for himself, his confidence will propel him to new heights.

It was now that his faraway gaze refocused on Evelynn, and he offered a small sheepish grin when he realized he was almost talking to himself. “Sorry if I’m not making much sense right now. I’m kind of just… thinking out loud.”

What was it about this year's new students? When Evelynn stopped to turn in the descending stairwell, it was mostly to make a connection. The sentiments she had shared, the words she'd had to say, they held a certain weight to them that was better delivered on a level eye to eye. But there had been a small part of that movement that had meant to keep the boy on his toes. Literally in some sense of the notion. Part of the prefect had held to the belief that she might have caught Chen off-guard, that his mind may have been wandering like so many others before him at the drone of her near-lecturing.

Instead, the gaze with which he had returned hers had been entirely attentive. As she spoke, his visage had betrayed almost a sense of awe, or so she had interpreted by the way he had parted his lips. It was as though he were transfixed by her words. The cobra to a snake charmer. Not even her own team mates on her quidditch team granted her that level of attention. In a strange way, it left her feeling internally flustered. She had become too accustomed to those who would flippantly dismiss whatever advice and observations might have been useful to them in favour of their own notions—which usually only served to further their own egos and did little to improve their futures. But this was different. A warmth of appreciation for the boy spread through her in a way she wasn't expecting.

As he shared his own gratuity, all she could do was offer a solemn dip of her chin. Even his overly familiar use of her given name went uncorrected. Through the journey of his response, she just stood. How familiar it was, really. With every spoken sentiment, she could see another half dozen swimming behind his eyes amidst the cogs of turning wheels. The colours of those irises may have been different, but in the relative darkness, they were not so dissimilar. In many ways, it was looking into a mirror at a kindred spirit. He could feel understood by her because she did understand. The weight of expectation, the drive to aspire to a level of success paved by the progenitors that had come before. Failure was never an option. But over-reaching—the typical reactionary effort to span those seeming chasms—rarely led to success. There was a fine balance to navigating the path between the two worlds in which they both had one foot. A balance that was only found with time and practice.

"You are making more sense than perhaps you might realize," she responded kindly, the register of her voice tempered to match the rare moment of reverence she felt for the emotional growth of the young serpent before her. "Come on, then," her voice beckoned as she pivoted again, nodding towards the base of the stairs. A cleanly extended step would skip the vanishing step above which she had stopped to the safety of the step two below hers. "You are more than welcome to continue thinking out loud if it will help. It is not an easy path, the one you intend to walk. In many ways, I feel those born into this world have the easier journey. They have the advantage of prior knowledge, of tutors in some cases, and of having the natural fluency of their immersion in the culture of the magical realm. They know the rules, of what to expect."

"You... you are a foreigner to this world, as I am," she continued, gracefully descending the stairs without compromising her upright posture. Fingertips of her right hand would trail along the stonework of the wall, but for no particular reason. They would fall to her side as they emerged at the base into a corridor on the second floor, skipping the third altogether.

"Not only do we have to expend that much more effort to close the gap with our peers and catch up with knowledge we ought to have had since birth, but we have to reidentify ourselves," she continued, redirecting her path along the hall. "That or struggle perpetually as we try to fit into this foreign land while clutching to our histories. What you are attempting, and in many ways succeeding even if you do not always believe so, to do... it is a difficulty that your parents will never fully understand. Not unless they, too, were immigrants to a new world. But my understanding is that in such cases, they usually trade that from which they run for their new opportunity."

"But I think you have it right." A faint smile accompanied a cant of her head in his direction as she expressed her thought. "It is hard to stand up for yourself if you do not believe in yourself. Find your footing and your confidence. You may be surprised to see just how readily others will concede to your will if it is presented from an unrelenting and unshaking ground. When you learn to stand up for yourself, others will come to respect you for it."

The thoughts within his mind seemed to blend together as he mulled through them and spoke; it was that feeling of grasping for words to illustrate emotions and half-formed ideas that may or may not yet be there. However, if he even had an inkling of an idea, he resolved to grab onto it, and see where it took him. It seemed that one thought led to another; maybe he was getting somewhere… And so, it was with cogs furiously turning over and over in his mind that he came to these conclusions that he strung together into the words that took shape in the space between him and Evelynn. At the very end, he stopped, and gazed hesitantly back at Evelynn, as if resurfacing from a trance within his own mind. Would anything he said actually make sense, or was he simply grasping at straws with an overly-optimistic mind, simply hoping for some way to push through the emotional obstacles that he faced?

"You are making more sense than perhaps you might realize," Evelynn responded, and his breath almost caught at the sincerity with which she affirmed this. He gently let out a long exhale, the doubts within his mind slowly dissipating with the air that flowed from his lungs, and couldn’t help it as his lips curled into a soft smile. Those words were good to hear… perhaps he had made more progress than he thought.

He followed as Evelynn beckoned to him, and he skipped the same step in time with the prefect upon their descent, listening intently to older girl’s response. True, it seemed that many of his classmates tread upon an easier path. He could see this with the way pure-blooded Liana Kerr sped through her assignments, even offering additional information outside of their textbooks during their study sessions; he could see this with the way Hildegard Schneider mastered her spellwork with ease during Charms class; he could see this with the way Vale Ashwood and Hunter Argentum seemed to know almost everything about the ingredients during Potions class. In turn, Avery would find himself confused during class, even after taking copious notes or listening carefully to the professor’s every word. Sometimes, he didn’t even quite know what part of the lesson he should be focusing on – which parts of the lesson were additional background information, and which parts were key to the subject at hand? His notes would sometimes be a mess.

"You... you are a foreigner to this world, as I am." At these words, Avery gazed at Evelynn with fresh eyes. Here she was, telling him that she was a muggle-born, just as he was. He knew that it was often a difficult subject to broach for many, especially with people they had just met – sometimes, one didn’t know who to trust, in case word got out to people who were sensitive about blood purity. Other times, people preferred not to discuss their blood type as if they were touchy, personal subjects like socio-economic class; he never quite knew how to navigate topics like this, either, but he was glad that Evelynn felt comfortable enough to share this information and connect with him on this level. Now, it seemed clearer as to why he felt that Evelynn truly understood him. “Oh, I had no idea,” he said, half-surprised, musing absent-mindedly, almost to himself. “I-I mean, it’s just that you seemed to really excel at what you did, so I just assumed that you came from a wizarding family…” but knowing that she didn’t, he only found that he admired her for her achievements and her grit even more. It now – almost – seemed wholly possible to do well at Hogwarts, despite being muggle-born. It was at this point that he found himself believing in his potential a little more.

He listened as Evelynn continued. Indeed, perhaps his parents would never truly understand what it meant to enter a new world one never expected to exist, at the ripe young age of eleven. But, then again, they had similarly left their lives as they knew it back in China, and made the trek to London for a university scholarship in a foreign country, using a language they had briefly studied but was still very different from their native tongue in which they could speak and write so eloquently, desperately searching for jobs that would sponsor visas so they could stay. “I suppose they might actually know some of how it feels,” he mused. “To be honest, I never really thought to draw the connection, now that they’ve adjusted to their lives in London, and I see how well they’re doing. And it’s so difficult to imagine that they were also young, once,” he chuckled lightly. Could his father, so strong and steadfast, ever have questioned his own future? Could his competent mother really have felt that things were too difficult to balance at one point? They would say that ‘times were very tough, but we got through them’ without getting into more detail, with faces that were already hardened and strengthened over the years. In this way, their immigration struggles seemed like bygone days that no one ever remembered; they were parts of his parents that Avery never knew. In Avery’s eyes, his parents had always been successful, and that was that. As such, it always seemed difficult comparing himself to them or living up to their expectations. But that shouldn’t be the case, right? “I don’t know – I’m scared of admitting I have too much on my plate, but maybe they would actually understand what I’m going through more than I thought they would.” It was definitely something to turn over in his mind.

"But I think you have it right. It is hard to stand up for yourself if you do not believe in yourself.” That’s it. He should believe in himself more. He will trust that he could learn to adapt to the ways of the magical world – he would learn everything he could and enjoy the ride along the way; he would explore the opportunities that were available to him, and find out what he was good at. He was a young boy of eleven with his life ahead of him and plenty of optimism for the future. So, it was with a fresh smile of renewed determination that he turned to Evelynn in the darkening corridor. “You know what? I think I’m starting to get it. I’m going to do my best in my classes, keeping an eye out for what I want to pursue more seriously in the future, and explore what I can. I’ll save blocks of time in my schedule to study hard and practice quidditch, but also set aside time to hang out with friends, relax, and practice violin. I’ll ask for help when I need it. Maybe I should communicate with my parents each break to tell them where I’m at with my interests, so they know how I’m going to prioritize each semester. Maybe that way, they’ll feel involved and know that I have a plan.” With small fists clenched, Avery glanced up at the older girl while keeping pace, feeling that the more he spoke with Evelynn, the more inroads he made, and that he had finally gotten somewhere.

Little did he know, his surroundings were becoming more and more familiar to him.

The simplest things could bring such a great level of satisfaction. Blood and purity were subjects that were not commonly discussed. At least not by Evelynn or those with whom she cared to share conversation. A single interaction with a particular pureblood on her boat ride across the great lake night one had been enough to caution her about spreading such information. Since then, she had preferred to keep those little details to herself, allowing carriage and action to set the tone of who she was as a witch. Let the pieces fall as they would and the public to draw their own assumptions about her. She would neither confirm nor deny whatever it was they chose to think.

More often than not, they would make the same mistake as Chan. Great care had been taken to cultivate an image of dignity and grace, one that would allow her to integrate herself seamlessly and respectfully into a foreign society. It had become something of a personal challenge to fool society into thinking her wizard-born, if not entirely pureblood. It never failed to leave her a touch smug.

"Good," she had replied simply to his assumption, smirking slightly. "Then I am successful in how I mean to present myself."

"It is rather easy to forget, is it not?" she echoed when he had responded to her commentary about his folks. It was a sentiment that she often found even herself trapped. To her, her mother had always been something of an eternal being. Always wise and youthful in a strange mix of sophisticated and playful, and it never really seemed to change throughout the years. She was an exceedingly lofty paragon of personal expectation, unreachable. "But..." She pulled herself from the depths of her own reveries as they veered off from the second floor corridor to descend a set of stairs. "They have a history and a childhood not unlike our own with lessons and wisdom and experience."

But it wasn't his realization about his parents potential level of understanding and parallels to his situation for which she was most internally pleased. It was the plan he had outlined. Like the last puzzle piece of a challenging image falling into place, she had the pleasure of watching it all click into place for him. They had spent all of a trek from the rehearsal room to nearly the ground floor, minutes really, and already a perceptible change had overcome him. A smile broke across his face, dispersing the worry that had marred it, and confidence laced itself through his words.

"I think you are understanding quite well, in fact," she replied gently, glancing briefly to the side long enough to appreciate the determination in his features. "That seems like a very reasonable first step. You would be balancing your time in focused activities; limiting obligations from spreading too thin and exhausting yourself; ensuring time to recuperate and provide rest for your mind with scattered recreation; and involving your parents. After all, they have no way of knowing just how much dedication and time is required for all of this if you do not show them. I imagine many may think that 'this is magic. We can do anything with but a flick of a wand. How lazy not to have to expand any effort at all for all of our gains'. But you and I both know it mentally taxing in a way that few have likely experienced."

It made her appreciate her own mother in that respect. While she might have been hesitant and initially opposed to the entire idea, she had eventually come around. And when she had warmed to the idea, she had jumped in with both feet asking questions, sending care packages, and being involved in every way she could. Superficially, anyway. Evelynn could never tell her about the more dangerous aspects of the school. That would have resulted in a swift removal from the school, she had no doubt. But.. academic things, she could share.

Their steps had carried them across the small hall and through an archway that led to the dungeons. A familiar path to everyone starting in their first year given the location of the potions' class, but to Avery it would be even more familiar. "Had you any other questions at all?" she wondered as they passed through the passage. Here, the air seemed several degrees cooler already, a certain level of dampness hanging in the air that made it feel slightly heavier to the breath.

"Good. Then I am successful in how I mean to present myself," Evelynn responded, and Avery caught a hint of a smirk, so he couldn't but help share the mirth in her success and grin back. "Absolutely!" he concurred. "And that's a pretty smart way to go about, I think." Wow, it really was possible, then, wasn't it? Perhaps he ought to just shut his big mouth about his own status. Thinking back to the time when Hildegard Schneider called him that derogatory term, Avery knew that he didn't want to re-live the same experience again. Now, if Evelynn had navigated the academic and social norms of Hogwarts so successfully as a muggle-born herself -- even to the point where people would've thought she was wizard-born -- perhaps he could take a page out of the prefect's book and make it possible for his own experience, too.

It was undoubtedly true -- his parents would've lived their own childhoods. Perhaps they had each struggled to grasp their own futures, and tripped once or twice before getting back up. They were just stories that he simply had not heard before, likely due to their lack of communication; he had never asked, and they had never willingly offered to discuss the mental and emotional struggles they had as children. His parents seemed to only focus on the 'here and now': Their child had to do this, and study that, in order to be successful. However, their method only left Avery feeling blind-sided and unheard, with no voice in his own future. Thinking about this now, and focusing all his mental energy on the issue, Avery felt that his conclusions and next steps were becoming more clear.

He smiled in response as Evelynn indicated that she thought his next steps reasonable. Yes! He was really starting to get it, and it really felt like a revelation of sorts... "I think I've realized that a lot of the issues I'm experiencing right now is actually due to the lack of communication between my parents and me." He considered the idea further. "You're right, they don't know enough about what's been going on in my life at Hogwarts, and they don't know how much mental and emotional energy I'm putting into my studies and extra-curriculars, combined. Sometimes, I actually tend to put up a front, like telling them 'yeah, I'm handling everything, it's no big deal', just so that I seem smarter or more capable in their eyes--" he blushed here as he admitted this point about his pride out loud to Evelynn "--and I don't want them to worry and ask more questions, or whatever. But, it's probably not doing me any good, since they might read it as 'oh, he's not doing enough, and not trying enough'. So, I guess, if I actually took the time and effort to communicate what I've been busy with, and explain the basics about why it's important to learn what I'm learning, they'll begin to understand my motivations and efforts a bit more."

Perhaps, communication with his parents was a two-way street: The more he shared with them in confidence, the more they would be willing to empathize, hear him, offer their opinions as constructive criticism and suggestions instead of orders, and give him some more free rein. Feeling the almost-exhausting effects of his brain dump, Avery inhaled deeply, letting the oxygen fuel his brain from working diligently overtime.

The next step was to have the courage to communicate, after being silent for so long -- that had simply been the status quo for him over the years. His parents told him what to do, and he did it. His whining was shut down as a young boy, so he learned to only complain silently, and grew up in this manner -- silent and outwardly obedient, but struggling internally -- over the years. "I haven't really tried this before, but I think I know the importance of this type of communication now -- enough to try it. And it's just being honest, really. Explaining my plans and opinions in a mature, thoughtful way. Not whining, because I'm not a toddler anymore," he chuckled at this. He was turning twelve soon, and it was a big deal. Time for adult conversations, not the tantrums and arguments his parents had always expected and promptly shut down with an iron fist before. Now, he was going to blow his parents' minds with the way he eloquently, reasonably, and confidently expressed his own point of view like a mature adult.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the dungeons, and his over-worked mind took some relief in his familiar surroundings and allowed itself to relax. Just in time. He felt that he had actually learned a few of his most important life lessons during this thoughtful walk from the classrooms. "Umm, no, actually," he said in response to Evelynn's question about whether he had anymore questions. "I think I've learned so much, really, just by talking to you. It's kind of hard to describe in words, but... thank you so much, Evelynn," he said earnestly. How was a kid even meant to express in words the type of gratitude he had for Evelynn, for her guidance, time, and wisdom? Our small boy didn't really know.

"Well, I guess I better get on that, now," he continued awkwardly, meaning writing a letter to his parents (first and foremost), holding his left hand out as if it were paper, with a scribbling right hand mimicking writing with a quill or pen. "Thanks for walking me back. I guess I'll see you around?" With that, he gave a grin and a small salute, and descended the steps into the snake pit, somehow feeling like a different person from when he emerged from it earlier that day.

Wow, Evelynn Decipio was really someone, wasn't she?