(1938-12-16) Deaf Dummies
Details for Deaf Dummies
Summary: Lulu attends a meeting of the duelling club and gets advice from Lea on visualising the dummy as someone you dislike.
Date: 1938-12-16
Location: Club Room, Ground Floor, Hogwart's

Perhaps one of the few perks of using the Club Room is that it suits the need of each, without having to drag materials here; the magic does all that. Edgar, being a member of the Duelling Club only, is staring thoughtfully at a conjured training dummy, his wand in hand. He takes in a deep breath in concentration and points the wand at the straw 'creature'. The first attempt to wordlessly cast fails, but then the second hits, and the Expelliarmus charm knocks the dummy back, to some satisfaction from the Carrow. "Too slow, Edgar," he murmurs to himself. "Too forceful, too."

Variel bumps the club room door open and backs with it, hands full of books. "-so then, I had Avery start putting the book places, judging by what the book said. Out of sight was fine; no hints but in view was fine; he had to put it somewhere I couldn't see -and- out of sight before I couldn't make the incantation work anymore." He stays where he's standing, holding the door for someone.

"I should really quite like to know what you are talking about, Weasley. Because to be frank, I have not the faintest of clues and I must say that it is almost as confusing as it is annoying," Lea plainly states; the Ravenclaw Ice Queen strolling in casually behind the ginger haired bow. A slight bow of her head given in appreciation for the fine art of manners in holding open the door. As usual, the girl has not a hair out of place, chiffon traded in for something soft and warm, in a shade of dark blue with buttons from collar to hem, a wide belt, perfectly alined for symmetry emphasizing her waist. Poor dear, Lea was not a lithe girl, the gods had blessed her with the figure of an hourglass and the proportions to go with it. No beanstalks here.

Well, the arrivals distract Edgar from his mark, and what might've been a well-aimed shrinking charm instead hits the far wall and turns the torch on a sconce into a mini-sized mockery of what it should have once been. Edgar lowers his wand, then, and turns to regard the new arrivals. Weasley earns a nod, while he spends some time looking at Lea. He is wordless for just a moment before he intones, politely, "Weasley, Rashley. Here for duelling practice as well?" He asks, since, hey, they are also in the Domestics Club. As opposed to him. "I evidently need to work on my Transfiguration," he remarks afterward, wry.

"Well- like I said, I was practicing in the Great Hall. And since the Summoning charm is easier or harder depending, I was using that to just work on the mindset to use the charms in general. Avery was-" Before he starts repeating himself, Variel turns to catch Edgar's nod- and stare, and grins. "Hey, Carrow. Mind some company?" He lets the door close behind himself. "If you put as much effort into your Transfigurations as you do enjoying the sight of well-dressed beauties, you might impress yourself!"

Unfortunately, Lea does not entirely understand the look. It promts a moment of self examination, at which she smooths a hand at her skirt, both against the front and then, to be clear doubly sure, against the back in the event of unwanted debrise. When she finds none? She simply stares back, with a look that suggests his staring was unwarrented because there wasn't anything dirty at all on her dress. That Variel suddenly decided to use the term beauty, was decidedly unfortunate. "There is absolutely no call to speak of me in such a fashion. Now, if you will, we may start with the basics. Do you have a firm grasp of Charms yet from first year, Weasley?"

Oh, boy. Edgar Carrow is very difficult to phase, except when it comes to very attractive girls. Thankfully, the rage from being embarrassed wins over being shy. He clears his throat, and apologizes with, "Forgive me. Regardless, I do not mind company at all, Weasley. You are both welcome to join me at practice." He pauses and then states to Lea, but not after mustering quite a bit of willpower, because it's hard to state something without a stutter or some sort of speech impediment when you are this shy, "I was beaten to the point, but you look impeccable, as always, Rashley." Perhaps a poor choice of adjectives, but then, in some ways, she is like him. Except in the oblivious spectrum of things. "As for Transfiguration, you do have a point, Weasley. I need to focus. Perhaps enter a different mindset to cast the spell than Charms."

The redhead is left blinking a few times. He was the one getting snapped at? It takes him a second to gather that it might have been the comment itself- especially, as he considers, that she didn't seem to really even process the look from Carrow at all- that it might have simply because he had brought it to her attention. "I owe you an apology, Rashley. I don't mean to make you feel ogled or anything, especially not when you're taking time to share your talent." He dumps his books on a chair, freeing his hands and fetching his wand. "It's definitely a different mindset. One's sorta… I dunno. Commanding? As opposed to manipulative?" He starts towards the others. "And yeah. I DID pull Os and Es in Charms up until this year, you know. I'm not a -total- loss," he remarks to Lea, lifting his wand to indicate the shrunken sconce. "Reparifarge."

The torch pops back to its normal size!

"How else should I appear?" The question was inquired of Carrow, though softened by Weasley's apology before her brow had time to properly climb for emphasis. In the end it spared him a look equalivent to that of a school marm out to watch a student squirm. "You are forgiven, Weasley, for all that you will refrain from using the term 'ogled' about my person again." Short clipped and remarkably to the point, before Lea drew her elm and with a remarkably delicate flick of her wrist, aimed the piece at Carrow's test dummy, offering an outlet for her annoyance in a demonstration that could be excused as a lesson, rather than upset. "Confrigno." There's no shouting with the word, just the quiet force her will flowing through it, in a tone so remarkably level that it was impossible to miss precisely how much satisfaction the girl gained from watching the wood splinter into a shower of pieces that rained down across the other half of the room.
Her eyes turned to Weasley once it was done. "Now. Duplicate it."

"In no other fashion, Rashley. It is merely a statement which shows appreciation for how presentable you are on a consistent basis." Being analytical helps, although Edgar has a bad case of red cheeks for a moment. He turns away from the two and then hears 'Confringo' —- which, naturally, makes him raise his hands to shield his eyes from the inevitable shower of splinters as Lea explodes the dummy to smithereens. The torch's transfiguration back is also spotted. Then, of course, Carrow considers the next targets, on the other side of the wall. "Reducio," he intones with an almost unsettling calm as the wand is pointed towards his target.

And it fails to take the intended effect. To Carrow's intense displeasure.

Variel nods agreeably. "Consider the word blacklisted. Now. About that spell…" His eyes lock on the torch he'd just repaired. It was plenty far away from them all! So when, after he whips his wand into place and, unlike the others, intones the spell, "Confringo!" with no small amount of conviction or satisfaction, the torch detonates in a burst of light and flame, there's a particularly satisfied grin on his face.

"Ah. Well." A smile then, small as it was rewarding. "Thank you, Carrow, that was quite kind. It pays to be presentable after all." Of course, he promptly proceeded to struggle with his spell, which left her with a somewhat perplexed expression but at least she schooled her tongue and focused on Weasley for the moment instead. "Well done."

"Reducio." Carrow states in a slightly more decisive tone, with a set jaw and a half-flourish of the mahogany wand, which, funnily, has a handle that looks like something you might find on a flintlock, only smaller and without a trigger. The dummy decreases and he lets out an audible sigh. "I have got it," he states, with what might be a triumphant smile. It twists a little uncertain when he looks to Rashley again, then nods once when Weasley achieves success at his spell.

"Wouldn't argue with you in the slightest on that, Rashley." Variel flourishes with his wand and lowers it, glancing towards the other two, tossing a grin at Edgar as he succeeds. "Rashley, I meant to ask- you've clearly got fashion sense, and a predilection for dressing well- when are you going to let me tailor something for you, hm?" He peers at the miniaturized dummy and flicks his wand again. "Mobilicorpus."

And nothing. He spends a moment reciting the word under his breath, as if trying to figure out what he did wrong.

"So you do, Carrow and rather well, might I add," the girl complimented, with a faint bow of her head before an almost dismissive gesture was given the debris that her previous spell had left scattered. "Reparo." As orderly as one could desire, the various splinters returned to their original shape as if it'd never been the subject of disaster at all and a small pleased smile for order restored doted on her features. Yet Weasley's proposition of.., "When you have established yourself as a fashionista who maintains a shop of his own." The answer was simple, but suggested a world of implications, the lest of which being a student would never dress her.

"Thank you, Rashley. As do you, evidently." Edgar replies after he witnesses Lea's rather successful repair spell. "You need to focus on intent, Weasley. That is how charms work. It is not manipulation so much as the desire to make the intended effect. Elsewise it is more difficult to concentrate on the intended task." This advice being given, he approaches the Ravenclaw. "Very skillful Blasting Curse, speaking of which. I favor the Disarming charm by a bit but blasting has more than its fair share of uses in a duelling context."

"Fair enough- considering that after I decide to retire as a Curse Breaker, truth be told." Variel's giving the lesson his full attention. Granted, it could be easier if the instructor wasn't quite as naturally distracting, but he's got a talent for tuning out obstacles. He orients on the larger, repaired dummy, imagining it punting away the little one that had ignored his spell and, locking on that fierce flicker of delightful revenge, snaps his wand towards the dummy, almost spitting out the word. "Mobilicorpus."

ClitterclatterCLACK. The foot of the suddenly animated target dummy smashes into the reduced target and knocks it several feet away, much to Variel's apparent satisfaction.

"Thank you." A measure of satisfaction was in the tone, before the young woman returned her wand to its sheath. She listens as well, while Carrow explained, her head bobbing in occasional agreement as if to second and therefor reinforce his statement without the need for talking over him. There was no need to repeat anything twice, after all. Not when Weasley seemed to be managing with his listening. "Well done," Lea compliments. "Though you'll find the sensation is somewhat different when used upon a person rather than a practice dummy."

"The mindset you bring into it determines how harmful the spell is, but you know that, from the DADA classes." Carrow states as he, too, sheathes his wand. He looks to Lea and nods after adding that particular detail. "Nonverbal spells are really daunting to grasp, thus far," he affirms, in a sudden change of topic. "That is what I was trying to do, when you came in. I find it to be good exercise, however. Can make for unpredictability against a skilled adversary."

"I suspected it probably would, yeah," Variel responds to the advice about live puppet-body spells versus dummies. "You know what I've always sort of wondered? We can't do it on grounds, obviously, but wouldn't Apparating make for a remarkably useful defense in a duel?" He fishes around in his robes for a moment and pulls out a small clay bottle with a cork. He uncorks it- and drops the empty bottle into his pocket. The cork, it's revealed, holds a large number and variety of sewing needle, locating the punted dummy before snapping the phrase, "Oppugno!"

It's an entirely all too prim fashion, that the young woman, whose wand was previously sheathed is now withdrawn, in the wake of Weasley's failure. "Oppugno." Clipped, precise and the boy's needles swoosh off to harass the training dummy with the kind of narrow minded focus that seems to linger about the sofer portions of the body; eyes, neck, groin. "You must mean it, Weasley. Particularly when attempting the use of a jinx or a curse, the main goals of which are specifically to harm. There must be no doubt nor question in your mind that the end result is the see the victim brought low and clearly, unarguably," a sweeping gesture of Lea's hand indicates the dummy, "In pain. If you are unable to do so, then you may as well give up on the notion of perfecting them."

"If you want to see something odd," Edgar unsheathes his wand and cautions, "Step aside." But even then, he doesn't do anything that does an immediate area blast. He points the wand at the moving dummy and states, "Bombarda," which, well, results into a loud boom and a violently shredded dummy. Thankfully, it is a spell with contained effect. "To illustrate what Rashley said just now, I wanted to obliterate the dummy. It barely did the job, see, but it did it, which is the most important of all." He smiles at Lea, then. "I see we are of the same mind when it comes to the discipline of Charms."

Variel gets more and more frustrated as the others perform their spells flawlessly. It doesn't stop his listening in the slightest, his eyes flicking to them as they speak, then back onto the dummies. His frustration is visible, and growing, and as Carrow finishes up his example and discusses his and Rashley's approach to Charms, he wordlessly slashes his wand through the air towards the intact dummy. A wicked jet of red light crashes into the target in the unmistakable effect of a particularly well-formed Stupefy charm.

"Now fix it," Lea replied to Weasley, with a look that was as expectant as it was pleased. "You can. I have faith in you." Did she? Who knew, but at least it sounded encouraging, which was the intention and he hadn't come across yet like a complete and utter waste of time, which meant that she in turn was not wasting hers. That was most important. For all that, while she was speaking, her eyes flit once towards Carrow with a glimmer of appreciation for the destruction that the boy was capable of.

Edgar's eyes meet hers for a moment before he nods in thanks, also favoring her with a bright smile. He sheathes the mahogany wand and offers, to Lea, "If you need someone to be a target for your Glamers, I would gladly volunteer for it. It is necessary I understand the defense of that, as well." He pauses, then, and asks, "So what are you doing over the holidays?" A pause. "That was a very well done non-verbal, Weasley."

Variel retains that fierce intensity in his expression as he flicks the carved vine wand in his hands like the handle of a whip, lashing it through the air as the incantation for the Mending spell flows from his lips, carefully controlled as he gathers the splinters of the wrecked dummy into a coherent target yet again, the pieces spinning into place rapidly and the seams flaring with magic as they seal over. He finally lets out a tense breath and relaxes his expression as both of his tutors praise him. "Thank you. Both of you. The, ah… the intent makes a big difference. It doesn't feel like bargaining or coaxing when you feel it. You just… sort of inform the magic what it's going to do. Not what you -want- it to do, what it's going to do, definitely."

Lucretia walks into the club room and finds herself a spot to hangout, off to one side. "Oh nice!" she can't help but call out when Variel pieces the dummy back together. She's a relatively new member of the club herself, so any practices once heard about get eagerly hurried to. Levering herself up to sit on one of the tables with feet placed on the seat of a chair pulled before her, she wraps her arms around her knees and watches.

When Weasley succeeds, Lea returns her wand to its sheath, a complimenting nod for the way that the mess was tidied up and a glimmer of appreciation in her eyes for it. It was as close to warm as Lea came. It's Carrows invitation that has her gaze snapping back in his direction, an assessing look given before her lips purse and eventually, "An offer that I accept," comes replied, with a faint bow of her head. Praticality was easy to deal with. Things of a more presonal nature? "I have been invited to Blacks," there's a familarity with the name, not warm but an association never-the-less. "Christmas Party. While I admit that such social functions are not typically my style, he has a cultured taste and as such, I may attend. Yourself?" It's an expected question, one that she provides on cue, before offering another little nod towards Wealsey, perhaps indicating that it was a question for both or perhaps just in praise.
Lucretia's presence draws the Ravenclaw's gaze however and a measure of a smile that's matronly, of all things. "Miss Black," as with all things, Lea is formal, precise and fails to mince words. "You are most welcome to join us any time that you desire. It's refreshing to see such youth take an interest in what is a decidedly important foundation of tradition and custom. Else without interest such as yours, how are we to keep such traditions preserved. Would you like to practice? Myself or Carrow would assist you, if you like."

"It depends on whether he invited me as well or not," Edgar is honest. "No plans thus far but I will try to attend that party, if, well, you are attending. It seems like it could be a fun occasion, nevertheless." When Lucretia is invited, he simply nods affirmatively to Lea's offer on instruction or duelling.

Lucretia sits up straighter, shoulders instantly pulling back from their previous dropped forward position. "Really? You wouldn't mind if I took a turn against one of you?" The Black girl's eyes travel from Lea to Edgar and then to Variel, as if trying to guage their own particular reaction to her joining them. It really doesn't take much encouragement, ever, for Lu to take advantage of an invitation however and she quickly slithers off the table, preparing to … be prepared. Or whatever.

Variel looks up as Lucretia arrives, smiling out of one side of his mouth when she compliments him. He still seems agitated, and while Lea speaks, he flicks his wand at his books. One, another- an attentive eye might catch the flare of badly subdued irritation burn in his expression as he twitches his wand again to get the last book to flit into the air and into his arms, all without a spoken incantation. "I'd be glad to attend if invited, but I haven't been yet. I'd be glad to practice with you another time, Black, but I've got scrollwork needs tending to tonight." Annoyed as he is, the sincerity in his words makes it pretty clear that he does have to go and isn't simply blowing off a younger student. "Carrow and Rashley are great teachers, though- more than worth your time to see what they've got to share." He looks to the named pair again. "Thanks, you two. I really appreciate the time and effort. I won't waste it."

"Your of the proper breeding and caliber." Is the every steady response offered to Carrow, a mixture of compliment to blood line and purity. Yet, she does not invite him to accompany her. There are far too many implications in such a thing. Instead, "If you are there, however, I would not decline your company. You do, after all, provide enjoyable conversation." A slight nod then, before she looks back to Lucretia, offering a nod of acknowledgement and dismassal both to Weasley as she settles into the notion of helping Lucretia. "I would not mind at all, no. Though, I might suggest that you took a turn against one of the training dummies to perfect those spells which might be beneficial. Theory is just as important as practice, for to practice one must first have the knowledge to draw upon. It would please me to help you with either." Why? Because Lucretia as well, was of proper family and more, status and Lea made absolutely no secret of her own purist views.

Lucretia gives a small nod to Lea, her wand already having found its way into her hand. She holds it lightly, almost reverently, and looks at the dummy so neatly put back together by Variel. "Any spell at all?" she asks, looking back to Lea to check on that. Despite the usual over-abundance of confidence that Lu usually displays, here in duelling class she's quite the novice still and she'll naturally defer to those more experienced and seemingly willing to tutor her.

"Any spell at all," Lea reassures, watching as Weasley departs before going over to stand just slightly back and to the right of Lucretia's right side. "And remember, you must mean it. Absolutely or it won't work. Think…think of it as someone stubborn, who won't listen. Take away any possibility of it not doing precisely what you want it too," the sixth year encourages. Tutoring is something she's all too familiar with doing and more, at ease with; even with many of the younger classmen.

Lucretia sucks in a breath, her mouth pursing with the effort as Lea gives her advice. Its one thing to practice spells and charms in a classroom full of her peers, but a different matter to do so on a dummy she's assigning a name and character to. A frown forming briefly on her forehead, it clears when someone comes to mind; someone who's annoyed her particularly of late. "Huh. Call me Baby Black? We'll see about that…" Addressing the dummy, she lifts her wand and there's an up and down almost imperceptible movement of her wrist. "Aliumauro!" There's that moment where she's not too sure whether she's done it right, whether she's concentrated hard enough or disliked with enough intensity the target, but then the dummy rocks forward, taken off-balance by the weight of two enormous leeks that sprout from its head.

Lucretia giggles, she is only thirteen after all, and leeks in ears? Just so funny!

There is the faintest arch of a brow, when Lucretia makes that murmur about 'baby black' for all that Lea does not remark on it. Instead those dark eyes follow the movements of her wrist, through the casting, even as she listens keenly to the pronuncation of the trigger word itself. All important working parts to perform the function as a whole. "That's perfect," Lea breathed the compliment with a measured amount of pride. "Very well done, Miss Black, very well." Lea is not one to giggle after all, it would be unseemly. "But I might refrain from elaborating on the…frustration that leads into the spell in the future. It gives others a glimpse of where your mind is and allows them a moment to prepare for the possible nature of your spells." Which…didn't seem condemning, did it? Just a faint warning to keep maliciousness private.

Lucretia stares at the dummy, the poor thing looking almost like a vegetable plot with leeks wedged in its ears. The things have grown quite large and fat, the tips still sprouting another inch or two before finally slowing their growth. A glance to Lea. "I see. No… verbal hints in future." A delightful smile melts Lu's face and her nose crinkles. "I will try. I really will. I think perhaps I allowed that particular annoyance to build within me and it all just bubbled up. I hadn't even realised that it was brewing. Now that its out, however, the irritation it caused me has gone. She could likely call me that 'til the cows come home and it won't bother me now. After all, I won't be thirteen and small forever. She, on the other hand, will just grow sour with age. Sourer."

"No hints at all," Lea agreed, offering a smile to the younger Slytherin. It was the closest thing to a warm expression that the often icey Ravenclaw possessed. "The idea is to have them at a disadvantage, always." Easily explained, before she listened to the girl explain a measure of her upset. Because it would be condescending to crouch to speak to Lucretia and because she hated when her mother crouched to speak to her as a child, Lea remained standing as she continued but attempted regardless to offer a measure of assistance. "I can tell you how I deal with frustrations, if you like, for I am frustrated often by circumstance and undesirable. I play chess. Which I admit," was that a hint of a smile? "Sounds rather boring, but every time one of the pieces gets crushed and shattered, I find myself imagining it is someone for whom I have no care. It's rather satisifying."

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