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Dominating the center of the Dueling Theatre is a large glass dome, inside of which lies the main dueling piste, the field where duelists go head to head for the entertainment of the masses. The glass is designed to be one-way, so that the crowd can see in, but the duellists' side is left foggy and opaque to prevent distraction and interference. Depending on the type of match, the field will either be left bare or filled with various obstacles like magical plants and steep rubble. Large sets of collapsible bleachers surround the dome, which when folded serve as smaller pistes for practice. Four small antechambers serve as locker rooms for each team, each denoted by their house's sigil carved into the door.
Devon shot a glance behind him as he was pushed backwards, the edge of the piste just behind him. Uh-oh, that wasn't good.
He quickly (so, so quickly) weighed his options, and in a slightly uncharacteristic move, decided to be cautious, moving forward in the time that Tristan was preparing his next move.
“I guess transfig is alright,” he said, rolling one shoulder as he spoke, his tone settling back into that easy rhythm he defaulted to. “But I don’t know, it kind of messes with my head if I think about it too long. Like… you’re supposed to just accept that it’s something new now, but it’s not really, right? Like, if you turn a teacup into a quill, does that actually mean it stops being a teacup? Or are you just… forcing it to behave like a quill for a while?” He squinted slightly, not at Tristan, but at the idea itself. “Because if it still is the teacup underneath, then what are you actually changing? And if it’s not, then where does the teacup go?”
He huffed out a quiet breath, shaking his head once as if to physically dislodge the thought before it went any further.
“Yeah, no, see, that’s what I mean. Headache,” he added, though there was a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth now, more amused than frustrated. He couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's optimistic view of "changing the world". "I guess you kind of are, yeah. Your dad's a wizard, right? Did he ever do magic at home when you were growing up?"
As frustrated as the challenger was, Devi was still able to make him laugh. He was right about all of that being confusing, but Verona’s emerald eyes had gotten accustomed to that confusing paradox. He didn’t really care to think about that kind of stuff anymore. Magic was incredible in every sense of the word. It wasn’t there to be fully understood, but used.
“You’re overthinking it, man! Even if a quill was a teacup before, the important part is if you are able to write with it or not, right? As long as tea doesn’t come out instead of ink, what it was before doesn’t really matter anymore. As far as the writer is concerned, he’ll be focused on the essence of what he’s writing, not the essence of the quill.”
Tristan hesitated for a second as he saw Devi move forward. A familiar uneasiness had come over the boy, which quickly faded away with his friend’s follow-up question.
“Dad prefers the quill over the wand. I rarely ever saw him do any magic, appart from a few special moments. Sometimes, his office was cleaned up a little quickly when Mom had been asking for days. Mom told me once that he used to do it more before, but that was before they had me.”A lot of things were different before that.
“There was always a bit of magic back home, but…” The young wizard stared at his acacia wand for a moment. “ Nothing like this”
“FLIPENDO”
Never like this.
Another strong burst of magic left the tip of his wand as Devi slid back from the impact.
“What about you? Do your parents use magic a lot?”
"Dad was a wizard,” Devon said, though there was a slight delay before he added anything else, like he was deciding how much of the rest was actually worth explaining. "I started living with my Grandmum Marion when I was pretty young though, so I don't remember much of that. There was probably magic, I think he had a gremlin or something, too. I dunno. Mum was a muggle, so's Marion. So this is all pretty new to me."
Devi didn't love talking about his Mum or Dad, but Tristan was his friend and deserved an answer. Pretty boring answer though, Devi thought.
"See, you've got the brain for transfig, mate. Thinking about that makes me want to throw up," he joked.
"Flipendo!" The spell came out rushed, the motion a little sloppy, his focus still half on the conversation rather than the duel. The result was exactly what you’d expect from that kind of split attention, but Tristan dodged it so expertly when he impressively [insert thing Tristan does next post here].
Devon blinked once, then let out a short, amused breath.
“Yeah, alright, fair,” he said, already resetting his stance, grip tightening just enough this time to suggest he might actually try on the next one.[/color]
“Must have been hard. I can’t start to imagine not having my parents around”, he lied. “But we do have one thing in common, you’re right about all of this being new. We’ve been here for months, and I’m still not used to it. There’s magic everywhere! Well, almost everywhere.”
The bloody full moon came to the forefront of his thoughts. Tristan had stayed far from that place these last few months. Spent most of his time studying and some of his time exploring. The castle grounds had more than enough hidden secrets to look into. Maybe he’d go back eventually if Raizel was there. Maybe he’d bring Devon one day as well, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that idea too long.
“I can always try turning your wand into a barf bucket if you want.”
The next spell came towards him fast, but the aim was off. It was headed a lot lower than it was supposed to. In a last minute effort not to get hit, he jumped forward with the spell soaring underneath him headed where his feet were just a second before. The ground came faster than the spell, but somehow, the flying duelist managed to tuck his head in to flow into a roll.
The roll led into kneeling knight posture with Tristan’s wand resting on Devi’s chest.
Tristan, breathing hard, looked up at his friend and parted drooping hair away from his eyes with his free hand. A small smirk painted his face.
Devi let out a breath through his nose, eyes flicking down briefly to the wand at his chest, then back up to Tristan’s face, clearly surprised (and a bit impressed) with the Modron boy's dodge.
“Alright, yeah,” he said, not even trying to hide the small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, “that was actually pretty clean.”
He shifted his weight, his grip on his own wand adjusted. “Bit dramatic, though,” he added, giving Tristan’s whole kneeling stance a quick once-over, "probably better to save that stuff for Quidditch tryouts. Flipendo!”
At this distance, there wasn’t much room to miss, and this time he didn’t. The force hit square, enough to shove Tristan back and break the neat little moment he’d set up for himself. Still, Devon was dangerously close to the edge, and all it would take was a powerful cast to send him flying.
“See, that one I meant,” he said, rolling his shoulder once like he was shaking off the last of the earlier miss, his heart now beginning to beat a touch faster with the pressure. Devon didn't particularly like losing.
His eyes stayed on Tristan as he grinned. “Guess I just needed you closer.”
"Aw come on, let me enjoy this! Besides, we both know you’re the better flyer after that night. Maybe this could be my thing! Flipendo!”
And once more, Devi was pushed back. Tristan was so close to finishing. This practice was gruelling, but he was becoming a lot more confident in his skills.
“See?!”
Every spell was efficient, and both the boys had found their rhythm. This was more of a dance than a battle. His frustration had evaporated after that last stunt and he was beginning to enjoy this back and forth. They made a great team, even when they were competing.
“Do you know if we’ll get to do some team fights? I’m sure we could do even better if we weren’t aiming our wands at each other.”
Tristan and Devon, a deadly duo to be sure. If only he could kick his butt first.
Devi let out a short laugh, though it came a little more forced than before as he caught himself near the edge. Alright, yeah, this was getting a bit close now.
“Team fights? Yeah, we probably would,” he said, still grinning, but with a little more edge to it now, his breath not quite as even as he’d like. “Long as you don’t get too cocky about it,” he teased.
He adjusted his footing quickly, almost too quickly, wand lifting again before the moment had much chance to breathe. Tristan was still too close, and Devi didn’t like how little room there was behind him. His pulse had started to hammer now, that same sharp little rush that always hit when things stopped being fun and started mattering.
“But you look way too comfortable right now,” he added. "Flipendo!”
The spell flew clean and hit Tristan square in the chest, enough to shove him back and give Devi the space he’d been trying to claw back. “There,” he said, the word leaving him with a quick exhale. Better.
His eyes stayed on Tristan, grin still there, though a little less tense now. “Don't let me get in your head now, Tristan. Don't miss! Don't miss! I'm right here!”
"Me, Cocky?” Tristan feigned indignation and responded in a formal voice. “Sir, I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else. You see, Luke has blonde hair and wears a purple robe.”
Devi’s shot had pushed the boy back to the center but he himself was still on the edge in a precarious position. One final spell was needed to finish this. A simple thing really, just repeat what he had been doing for the last few rounds.
“Don't let me get in your head now, Tristan.” The caster grinned back and rolled his eyes. Okay, that’s enough of that. His arm stretched forward with intention and let the spell fly.
“FLIPENDO”“Don't miss! Don't miss! I'm right here!”
Their voices intermingled as the Modron duelist tried to hit his nagging opponent before the taunts had finished trickling out.
Tristan almost snapped his wand.
He stayed frozen for a second, staring at where his shot had not landed.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”
Unbelievable! Devi had dodged it with impressive swiftness. His friend just didn’t quit.
“I swear, Devi, if I can’t push you over with a wand, I’m gonna come over there and tackle you myself.” He was only half joking.
Devi laughed at Tristan’s outburst, equal parts relief and adrenaline still buzzing under his skin. God, that had been close. Still was, but at this rate, Devon wasn't even sure if Tristan would be able to hit him again.
“Alright, alright,” he said, still grinning as he shook his head, wand never lowering, “you get one dramatic threat. Just one.”
His chest was rising a little faster now, the pressure of it all finally getting to him, but there was something lighter in him too, the kind of ease that only really showed up with Tristan. Even now, right on the edge of losing, this still felt more fun than frustrating.
“C’mon, then,” he said, smile tugging a little wider. “Don't let me distract you, bro. Say it with me... Flipendo!”
The spell left his wand, wildly off course. Tristan's move to dodge the spell, however was also wildly off course, and miraculously the spell hit Tristan square and pushed him back again. "Like that,” he said, the words coming out with a small, breathless laugh. That was lucky.
His eyes stayed on Tristan, warm and bright despite the tension still thrumming through him. “And no tackling. I’m serious. I like you, but I’m not letting you give up like that.”
"Dramatic? No one’s being dramatic right?” Tristan nodded towards his friend, still on the edge of the piste. “What about you? You going to front flip over my next one?”, he called out with a raised eyebrow.
Devi’s next shot hit him hard. The spell had gone in a totally different direction than he had expected. He fell to one knee as he lost his balance. It was a familiar motion, but this time, it had none of the elegance his previous kneeling position had held.
He slowly got back up to his feet. Tristan shook his robe and then looked back at Devi with a smirk. Any pretence of homework had dissipated in his mind, they had already practiced enough. Now, they were messing around with each other. It was the adrenaline of a challenge, the thrill of a taunt. You know, the fun part.
The boy bent his arm near his chest, released it momentarily towards his opponent before flicking his wand like a whip towards the ground. “FLIPENDO” The floor of the mat crackled with white magic and illuminated the caster with bright light as the spell was absorbed into the ground. For a brief moment in the flash, there was a barely noticeable flicker in Tristan’s eyes as they changed from green to black, back to green.
“What can I say? You have all my attention now, Devi.” The young boy lowered his wand expectantly. “Why don’t you take another shot?”
