Hogwarts: 6th Floor - The Dueling Arena ~ Hocus Pocus?

Sabriel couldn't contain his gasp of surprise as Tremaine was bound by his ropes. The boy had been attempting to utilize the element of surprise, yes, but he did not expect his technique to work. He anticipated Tremaine to deflect attack. He expected to be on his knees by now, trembling with the effects of some hex, but such things didn't happen.

Tremaine released himself from his holdings ("finite!"). He offered a small comment or two. With one final reprimand at Hiss, Tremaine refocused his attentions to his Veela disciple.

Sabriel had a moment of displacement. Something did not feel right. His teachings nitpicked at the back of his mind like festering hungry chicks, but it was a while before he grasped the issue. In his brief moment of shock, he had drew a hand up to his lips, expressing his surprise. His wand-hand held his magical instrument across his chest. He had thought Tremaine would be angry that his attack had worked. Although such notion was asinine, he had recoiled out of sheer instinct. He had put himself in a completely vulnerable position, and there was no doubt the next spell would hit him if he stayed that way.

Sabriel put his arms back down and relaxed. He needed to be prepared. No more distractions.

Tremaine's muscles tensed. Less then half a second later, he had flicked a spell in Sabriel's general direction. The boy's eyes widened ever so slightly. No incantation? His father had trialed him on nonverbal spells since he was twelve. He was never, of course, able to defend himself magically before.

Everything went in slow motion. What was the spell? Was there any clue?

There was no time to figure it out. Just as the conjuration reached its halfway point, he dived to the side. He felt its warmth fly by his shoulder. Sabriel had narrowly missed it. It ricocheted twice of the walls, before finally absorbing into the ceiling.

Sabriel blinked. "What was that?" he asked. He was lying on his side. Gingerly, he stood, making note to check for bruises later.

(( Notif: I posted! ))

OOC: I am SOOO sorry. I did miss this. but I'm back on it now. *apologizes profusely*

"Nice! Very nice indeed," Michael laughed warmly. "Nice incarcerous. Good and strong. And you were able to avoid my small charm with evidence of practice and skill. Brian will like you a good deal. You have the potential to be a strong dueler. In our ministry's history, it isn't always the strongest who prove to be the most formidible. Muggles have to think that way. Not with us magical folk. For us, its your speed and skill with a wand that often can make the difference in how 'strong' you are seen to be. You have every reason to think, with your genetic makeup, that you will be faster than most wizards without the veela advantage. You, my boy, have amazing potential, and that pleases me to no end. Let us try one or two more, just for the heck of it, and then perhaps we'll bugger off back up to my rooms. I refuse to eat what they serve downstairs unless I must. I far prefer cooking my own downstairs. So, I send my owl downstairs to the house elves, and they deliver up the supplies for me to do my own cooking. And you do need far better nutrition. That begins today."

He studied the boy for a moment, and his pause was designed both to give Sabe time to recover briefly and also time for him to think. "Take a moment for yourself. This is just designed for me to see how well you function, and I do believe I have seen enough. But lets try one or two more. When you feel ready, go ahead an return fire."

(( OOC Perfectly all right considering how long it's taking me to reply at Hogsmeade. ^_^ ))

Sabriel blushed heavily under the professor's praise, fidgeting uncomfortably on the crescent star. He was unused to such praise. Tremaine's voice held an excited, affectionate lace that startled him as much as it warmed him. He nodded.

"That is a good idea," the boy assented. "My road to fulfillment should begin straightaway. Good health comes first before anything."

Sabriel closed his eyes and breathed. His thoughts were somewhat restless, swelling and warm. They beckoned him with various spells and conjurations to cast upon Tremaine. He willed them to get in order, and quietly sorted through the ones he liked best. Finally, he found one he deemed apt. Extending his wand, the boy said,

"Titillando!"

Titillando - Hex that provokes uncontrollable laughter

Michael loved to laugh anyway, so for him, he had made an attempt to deflect the charm but he didnt' know where the charm might have started and stopped and where his own laughter began. But it had made him laugh. The fact that he was able to stop told him it was his own laughter.

"Oh, well done. Well done indeed. Creativity is sometimes our best weapon. People don't often think of the smaller annoying charms in a battle, but they are immeasurably handy. Alright. Enough. Let's go upstairs and get some breakfast. Come along then. I don't want you to be late for class because you've been 'horseplaying'--as they would call it--with me. Hiss, how does the hallway look?" The rope slid back in and nodded at him. "Come along then," he told the rope. It slithered up to his shoulder and coiled around his shoulder to be easily carried. MIchael motioned for Sabe to follow him back downstairs.

Michael went back down to his suite of rooms and motioned for Sabe to simply make himself at home. Hiss slithered off Michael's shoulder and coiled up on top of a bookshelf. Michael went to the desk and picked up his quill and a piece of parchment. He filled out his supply list just as there was a tiny knock on the door..

"Come in, Ed," Michael said. A house elf came in, looking like he truly wanted to rebuke Michael for calling him Ed. "Not more than ten minutes, now, Ed," MIchael ordered. "Look sharp." The elf snatched the parchment of the desk, read it and left grumbling under his breath.

"You'll have to ignore Ed," Michael said. "He's just generally a grouchy old fart. Its just his nature. Now, while we wait, what questions do you have?" Michael flicked his wand towards a trunk beneath a worktable not far from the fireplace and it began assembling all the necessary cooking equipment for him.

Sabriel followed Tremaine back to his quarters. Excitement and relief coursed through him. Tremaine had thought he'd done a good job! It settled his nerves completely. You've passed, he thought privately. It was all quite wonderful. Never once during his spars with his Father he was given such outward praise. A nod, an advancement or two. If he successfully remembered what to do in a certain event, they would move on to the next lesson. The greatest pardon he would receive is being capable of going home without any bruises, and perhaps skip a day of practice or so.

Finally, back in the office, Sabriel fetched himself some tea and curled up in an armchair. He was generally pleased with himself. A moment later, he berated himself. There were still challenges ahead. A mere mediocre lesson was just a tiny step in his advances to become an Auror.

Tremaine padded over to his desk. He extracted a quill and a complementary piece of parchment and started to write. A moment later, there was a small knock at the door, but Sabriel had been so wrapped up in his tea, it startled him all the same. The boy timidly settled down, hoping Tremaine did not notice his little jump.

Their guest was a house elf. Ed? Ed begrudgingly 'accepted' the letter from Tremaine and made a hasty exit.

"You'll have to ignore Ed," Tremaine told him. "He's just generally a grouchy old fart. It's just his nature. Now, while we wait, what questions do you have?"

Sabriel thought for a moment. "You were an Auror, correct? As a profession? What did it take?"

Michael smiled, pleased with the boy's intellect, as he took his own tea mug and refilled it. 'Here it comes,' he thought to himself. "And there is the rub. I have danced around that point rather well, haven't I?" he laughed. "First, am I an auror? No. But in my line of work, I did have to know nearly all their skills. I work almost entirely and exclusively for Khaat's father--our rightful minister of magic. And I have been working for him for many years. My specialties are stealth, espionage, and...well, I'll say it outright. Theft. I am a catburglar by trade. In both the muggle and magical realms. Truth be told, though, I didn't start out as a lad thinking that was what I'd be. It was never my life dream. If I'd had my way, I have most likely been a chef. Or a firewhiskey brewer.

"I had to do it to provide for my family when I was a kid. I had to learn to pickpocket at first. And shoplift. And I was quite good. It fed my family for a long time. And, as the years went by and i got involved against the dark arts followers, the more those who were fighting for what we call the 'greater good of our world' had desperate need for someone who could go into the dark and shady places they had never been and would most likely be killed in. So all my desires and life plans went up in smoke because someone always needed me to swipe something away from someone evil. Just for the record, I have never handed over anything to a dark arts practioner and I would die before I did so. And the only time I have stolen for my own gain was if it meant the difference between my own death or survival. I have made what cash I had by being remitted for my services by either the muggle british governmenet or our own.

"I won't ever ask you to be anything you don't want to be, so if your kneejerk reaction is to run, that's understandable, but I won't ever ask you to train for what I do. You do have advantages that might help you for that profession but you also, at least at this point, have some disadvantages to that, and I would never put you there unless it was your own free will. Your path for your life has to be completely your own choice. And if I can help you get to what you want, I will. That, and my goddaughter has taken a strong shine to you. There is very precious little that I wouldnt do for her and her family. They're the only famiy I have left.

"So--bottom line. Am I one of the good guys? Yes. Do I look like it? Anything but. But therein lies my advantage," he grinned. "I can get into places my famous and righeous friends cannot. And I do--for them."

"Thank you," MIchael said, feeling a bit like he was free of carrying that burden with Sabe now. But Sabe had triggered a fond but twisted childhood memory. It made him smile and he stoked the fire in the hearth. "Actually, stale bagels can be rather tasty if they're toasted. If you get them early enough, they're edible and might just keep you alive."

The house elf arrived with a large basket of foods and Michael tipped him with a couple of galleons and the house elf left again, satisfied with the payment. Michael looked over the basket and made quick work of chopping fresh vegetables and dicing bits of cooked ham. He scrambed some eggs and tossed them in a well oiled cast iron skillet and slid it onto a cooking grate on the hearth. "Frittata," he announced. "Less work and very healthy." He flicked his wand at an array of fresh fruits laying beside his chef's knife. "Fruit sald, and dont' make a mess," he ordered the knife and fruit. The knife began chopping the fruit and scraping it up and tossing it into a serving bowl. He drew out a platter of fresh breakfast pastries and a pitcher of orange juice. Just then the knife made a banging on a sugar bowl. Michael looked at the knife. "Just a tad, perhaps, please. The oranges smell a wee bit tart this morning." The knife saluted and flicked some sugar into the fruit bowl and then kept working.

"So," he said. "Your dueling skills are sufficient for now--unless we suddenly go to war--which by what I can gather from the street talk in Diagon Alley, might well be a reasonable expectation. If we do find ourselves unable to escape a fight, I expect you to follow my orders to the letter, no matter what you see or hear. I will make sure you have someone to fight alongside you. No one needs to feel that they are in something like that alone. I would suggest that we do our best to boost your immune system and start helping you improve your own natural agility and flexibility. Let's capitalize on your assets first rather than to try to overcome those things that are perhaps a bit harder to achieve, shall we?"