Potterverse TDN - Moon
Yew, 12", Manticore Scale
It was hardly the most pleasent day. Whipping October winds and heavy rain lashed against the windows. George wasnt truly excited, but it was clear the school was buzzing. First Quidditch of the year and it was a rival match. Gryfindor versus Slytherin. No one could think of a better way to start the year; besides a few of course. George was, as he had been for two years running, Captain of the Slytherin Duelling Team. He had a talent for it and a passion, perhaps having come from a house filled with Ministry officials. His own father from deputy head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement: an Auror. It was his destiny to follow in his father's footsteps and stray away from the stuff he actually enjoyed. Of course, he wouldn't have minded being an Auror, duelling for a job but there were professional duellists out there. He'd often considered joining them.
"Nott!" A whisper came from the table across. Charms class, a mix of Hufflepuff and Slytherin. "Oy." He looked over and rose an eyebrow. They had to be quiet of course, at least whilst the teacher wrote a million notes on the board and some spell a Seventh Year had taught George the year before. "You coming down to Quiddtich later?" Steven Travers, a hard set Beater with a certain passion for women and beating the hell out of Gryfindor. His family were not so notorious in their pure blood ways but he liked to show his own dislike.
"No one will want to practise duelling when it's us against them." He had a point. They got at least six chances a year to beat the living hell out of the house they were all meant to hate. "I've got fire whiskey for afterwards." George smiled.
As the lesson drew on, he felt something being poked against his back. "George." He turned and took the object. A copy of the Daily Prophet. 'Mass muggle murders. Dangerous wizard under questioning.' They'd be asking if he knew anything. Nothing other than the fact the wizard won't have been caught.
"It's nothing." He muttered back, handing the paper back. Travers soon joined in the conversation.
"Calls him Voldemort, apparently."
"It's nothing, other than an complete mainiac."
"Fenrir says he's done more murders than the Prophet says. Says he's recruiting an army-"
"Steven Travers! Will you be quiet!" The whole room jumped. "Nott, I expected more from you." The blonde boy rolled his eyes and took back to his notes.
The lesson ended. Thankfully. George threw his stuff into his bag and made like a bee for the door.
"Nott. A word." He was already sick of how much was expected of him. "You're wanting to be an Auror, aren't you?"
"I think so."
"I'd suggest you focus more on your studies then. You may have a talent for it but they won't expect you on name alone." Why did everyone expect so much from him? Just because of his own stupid parents! He muttered a 'thank you' and disappeared from the room. He'd make his way to the dormitory and calm down there. Perhaps it was dangerous to be paired with such a wand. He saw the look on his brother's face when he'd been given yew, of course it meant nothing to their parents.
Pine, 14 1/2 in, phoenix feather
The wind and rain made the day just perfect. The sun was annoying though its warmth was welcomed every so often. The cloudy day did nothing to kill her boredom. The upcoming Quidditch match held no interest for her. Sure, she liked supporting her house, but she found it a waste of time and ridiculous. She would much rather find a quiet area to study or to practice fencing.
Fencing was like a breath of fresh air among the chaos of classes. It allowed her to let go of frustration without the worry of someone judging her. That and her family permitted such an activity. She would so much rather be apart of the Dueling Team but her father believed a lady shouldn't duel. Elizabeth was very tempted to just curse her father and join.
A muttered voice from the back and to the left drew her attention from the notes before her. One George Nott and friend were conversing. She knew Nott from the Dueling Team and Nott's friend (something Travers, wasn't it?) was a beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Finding it annoying, she focused back on the notes at hand. It was all dull and boring. She had already read the chapter and practiced the spell before the previous school year. Some courses just moved so slowly. Charms was one of those.
Don't get her wrong, Charms was one of Elizabeth's favorite subjects. The other two were Transfigurations and Potions. The classes, though, could be the worst. So, she had taken it upon herself to learn at her own speed, thus her high scores on her OWLs. NEWTs were a different story and Elizabeth still not worried about them. She had learned enough and then some to do just fine at minimum.
"Steven Travers! Will you be quiet!" The whole room jumped. Elizabeth had merely looked up, having already expected it. Their conversation hadn't been getting any quieter. "Nott, I expected more from you."
Elizabeth felt the corner of her lips quirk up in a slight smirk. It was always entertaining to hear the dueling captain get into trouble because of his friends. The young man always had the most rambunctious group of friends. She returned to her notes, sketching on a separate piece of paper.
Her mother had encouraged her artistic abilities, to her father's distaste. Elizabeth had settled for the in between and sketched using charcoal or lead. She much preferred a lead pencil. It was easy to grip without getting messy and was so much easier to keep sharp. As class ended, Elizabeth gathered her things and left, overhearing a bit of what the teacher wanted with Nott. Honestly, the professor was ignorant to think that Nott would willingly interact loudly in a class that was required to be quiet. Even with barely knowing him, Elizabeth would bet her wand that he was not the kind to take things lightly.