A Final Lesson
tutoring: @Esme Hestridge, @Isa Flores, @Amelia Lerelle, and @Milica Vranekova
Surprisingly, Della was a bit nervous. Teaching those younger than her to ride a broom and race past the thunderous Whomping Willow was now second nature to her. But feet firmly on the ground, only a wand in hand, she felt disarmed. The fifteen-year-old was mostly past what she deemed her awkward phase, but who knew what new insecurities a group of tweens could suss out? She would most likely tower over them, being quite tall for her age and gender, so there was nowhere to hide.
Yet, it wasn't like she did have a firm grasp on the intricacies of defensive spells. That's why she signed up to tutor in the first place. She remembered an older student here or there nudging her along her first year—there was even that whirlwind of a dueling game where she was the only lion in a sea of Slytherin snakes (and she lasted way longer than anyone expected, thank you very much, only able to utilize the tickling charm as a weapon no less)—and she wanted to return the favor to those younger than her. There were many more spells in her bag these days, and the knockback jinx was child's play at this point.
When the students assembled in front of her in a shadowy corner of the dueling club, hopefully empty so the group had room to spread out, Della began her speech.
"I'm going to show you how to use the Knockback Jinx. It's straightforward, and you may have already started to cover it in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It does what it says. It knocks objects … well back. You know, like away from you. Behind me, I have a little stack of pillows you can practice on. I don't recommend knocking each other back, even with a stack of pillows behind you—the force is stronger than you think. Though I'm not a professor or prefect, so I'm not going to stop you. We do way worse to each other in dueling or broom racing."
Della regretted saying that last bit. Having students physically harm each other would really put a damper on her day. But that cat had left the bag.
She continued, "I'll demonstrate. You need to move your wand like this. It's down, then back up, with a flourishing flick at the end. The incantation is flipendo." She grabbed a pillow from behind her, ensured there was no one in its path, and firmly said the incantation with the wand movement. The pillow shot out of her hands, flying across the room, landing with hefty plunck against the opposite wall.
"Simple as that. As you've heard in class, intention matters, so you have to really mean it. Okay, go ahead! I'm here for questions if you have them."
Please post 500 words in this thread after one calendar month to receive your spell! (You can write it all at once, or within multiple posts.) Have fun, and feel free to keep roleplaying as much as you want.
Last edited by Della Barfield on 5 Nov 2025, 22:20, edited 1 time in total.
sta 8 - eva 16 - str 5 - wis 11 - arc 5 - accuracy 13 |||| Parselmouth - Evasive Maneuvers - Beast Master
also Ruckus Weems | Quentin Gagné
A Final Lesson
Just a friendly reminder that there's around two weeks left to earn your spell!
@Esme Hestridge, @Isa Flores, @Amelia Lerelle, and @Milica Vranekova
sta 8 - eva 16 - str 5 - wis 11 - arc 5 - accuracy 13 |||| Parselmouth - Evasive Maneuvers - Beast Master
also Ruckus Weems | Quentin Gagné
A Final Lesson
| E | ✧  ✧location. the dueling club. date. 13th of october. mentions. @Della Barfield.  If there was one thing that Esme valued more than her routine, it was peace of mind. It had been about a month and a half at Hogwarts, now, and she had developed a strict schedule. She had plenty of things to attend to — her classes took up the majority of her days, and to allow herself the proper time needed for all her other pursuits, organisation was of paramount importance. Chess was an activity she had always reserved a time slot for, as was her vocal lessons (those though had been, admittedly, suffering, thanks to Esme's distaste with some of the other people who frequented the rehearsal room). With all her activities considered, she had little time for extracurriculars. It was fortunate that for the most part, she did not have much of an interest in any of them. Flying had made her queasy since she was a child on a toy training broom; Quidditch and broom racing were quickly off the table. The toad choir was more in-line with her musical interests, but Esme was not the most interested in the handling of amphibians while she sang, so that club was also quickly crossed off the list, along with gobstones, which required inordinate amounts of free time to spend in the courtyard. This left Esme with two options, really: the Hogwarts Headliner and the dueling club. The Hogwarts Headliner was, for a brief moment, the one grace she considered. Writing was the work of academics, after all: a place she could make connections that lasted, that were based on more than small talk and proximity thanks to shared classes. Her hopes of any intellectual environment in the Headliner offices were quickly thwarted when Esme came to learn of the Editor-in-Chief's identity, however; instead of some sensible choice of a respected upperclassman, whatever faculty member was in charge opted to make Silas Norwood the boss, and, in the process, killed and laid to rest whatever interest Esme had in the project. Dueling club sounded promising, then. Her father lauded it as another great place to find friendships, and Livia Machavariani, who Esme had grown close to in the past few weeks, also spoke highly of it. Still, Esme's enthusiasm was quickly tempered by all the tedium that it took to speak with one particularly elusive dueling co-captain, and by the far more recent realisation that Esme's father had no clue what he was talking about. The friend he spoke so highly of from his dueling days was, of course, none other than Theodore Merrick — the same Theodore Merrick whose daughter Esme was forced to meet only a few days before. It was safe to say, Esme valued her routine, and over the past few weeks realised that no extracurricular would be worth destroying it for. Each had downsides and annoyances that made them far too unpleasant to even consider. Esme didn't even have to think of the pros and cons for each, she was just sure of it all. She would be just fine with the activities she arranged for herself. Esme's father, unfortunately, disagreed. Having heard his daughter was no longer planning on signing up for dueling, he lamented the decision with every passing letter. Frankly, Esme was resolved not to let it get to her, and let him wail over the matter until Thomas Hestridge got tired of himself, but quickly realised doing so took up a lot of paper. Every response she had gotten from her parents in the past few days had mentioned at least two dueling club anecdotes, and the amount of genuine conversation she could get out of them dwindled. Esme had been considering signing up onto the stupid waitlist just to pacify her father, when, during an idle look at the Slytherin bulletin board, she noticed her saving grace. A lesson, taught by some upperclassmen, of important charms to know — available to all Hogwarts first years, and, more importantly, taking place in the dueling club room. It was perfect. Esme could sign up, flaunt it to her parents, and come back with a letter detailing everything. If everything went right, she would provide just enough information to get her father to snap out of the period of grief, and she would be free to go back to her meticulously arranged schedule. She didn't need to think twice about signing up. And so, on October 13th, Esme found herself in the dueling club's room, gently bouncing back and forth on her feet as she listened to the upperclassman in front of her. She was tall, though Esme supposed any fifth year would be when compared to a bunch of eleven year olds — with wavy blonde hair that hung neatly above her shoulders. Nothing special, but perfectly fine. Frankly, the bigger issue Esme had was standing in a little group with Esme herself. Pitch black hair, pale skin, and an aura of death around her, it was none other than… … well, M-something. Esme had not learned her name during the Fall Ball debacle with Cecilia, Maisie, and the googly-eyed boy, and she did not intend to do so now. She could still feel the texture of algae in her hair, and immediately wanted to scrunch her face up in distaste. She didn't, of course, far too dignified to do so in front of possibly important people; besides, any friend of Merrick's, especially one so uncouth as M-what's-her-face, was not someone important enough for Esme to lose face over. The upperclassman in front of them explained that she would be teaching them the Knockback Jinx; something Esme had recognised from Defense Against the Dark Arts, but was yet to master. Perfect. Perhaps if circumstances allowed, she would be able to use the spell on a certain redhead — or, Esme thought, glancing to her side, a certain redhead's black-haired friend. Amused sufficiently by the thought, she turned back to look at the older gryffindor in front of them, paying close attention to the demonstration she was putting on. Esme's eyes were glued to the girl's wand. Down… back up… and a flourish at the end. Down… back up… the words repeated in Esme's head, and she found herself nodding along as they cycled through once more. Down, back up, and a flourishing flick at the end. Down, back up… It became a mantra for the next few minutes. Esme did not find herself feeling up to wasting time, and once the Gryffindor blonde finished talking, she was quick to grab a pillow to practice on. As much as she would have preferred a different target, one that was in the room with them, even, this would have to do for now. Admittedly, getting the spell right took… a few tries, for certain. Esme found that her wrist was annoyingly stiff when it came towards the flick at the end; failing at the flourish meant that her wand just let out a pitiful, weak spark, or just barely pushed the pillow. Esme could feel her eyes roll into the back of her head involuntarily, frustration beginning to simmer within her gut as her shoulders raised. She was not in the mood to embarrass herself, especially not in front of M-whatever. Merlin only knew if she wouldn't report back on this to Cecilia, and then Esme knew she wouldn't hear the end of it. Perhaps, however, that sort of frustration was just what Esme needed. Down… It forced her to clear her head and focus; made her realise the state she was in and actually center herself, push her shoulders back down into a resting position and relax the white-knuckle grip she had on her wand. Back up… She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, before inhaling deeply and speaking the incantation, the words leaving her mouth clearly, though still with a slightly biting edge. … flick. The pillow shot back, as if by a strong gust of wind, and Esme felt pride swell inside her chest. Her chin lifted, glancing at the pillow triumphantly; tempted to take a discreet look around to see if the others in the group had had any similar success, but quickly schooling herself. The polite, respectable thing to do would be to take it in stride, and take her leave, and that was exactly what Esme would do. Putting on her best humble smile, she did not linger, thanking their tutor politely on her way out. Only later in the day did Esme allow herself a small celebration, treating herself to a slice of angel cake after dinner.  thread left. thank you for setting this up! ♥ wc. 1436 notes. super sorry about the delay on this! life has been hectic, haha. hope it's ok to post now! ✧✦✧ |
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thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |
A Final Lesson
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It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!