The final lesson of the day was History of Magic, taught by a ghost - Professor Binns. The Professor didn't make any seating plan, but even sitting next to the people he wanted to wasn't enough for Blake to stay focused.
This subject is so so so boring. It's just memorisation, and it's not even relevant history. What the hell is a Snordelplob? The only semi-interesting thing is that the Diricawl is the Dodo.
Luckily, the ghost professor didn't seem to mind the class's obvious lack of focus or that the majority of them were having a nap, and so Blake and Tracey were able to successfully nap, but unfortunately, Zabini took the opportunity to use the Sponge Knee Curse, much to Charlotte's quiet amusement.
When the lesson was over, Tracey, eager to get to her room to enjoy her free time, tried to jump up from her seat - only to immediately crumple to the ground, groaning, much to the amusement of the class, and the satisfaction of Zabini, clear on his face for a brief moment. Tracey immediately whirled around (as best as she could) and started to accuse Zabini, who looked at her unbothered and uncaring, but it was obvious he was looking at Blake too.
Sponge Knee Curse, huh? Ok, he definitely got me too - so…
"Episkey!" Blake whispered to himself. That familiar rush of air came, and Blake stood up, unaffected, much to Zabini's chagrin, but the latter didn't comment.
"You won't get me anytime soon, Zabini," Blake said, mimicking his roommate's nonchalance, but Zabini barely acknowledged him, still getting shouted at by Tracey, while Charlotte looked on, still laughing. Blake just smiled.
After about 5 minutes, the curse wore off, and the Slytherins made their way back up to their dorms - apart from Blake.
Remembering McGonagall's stern warning about punctuality, he hurried his way to the Head of Gryffindor's office, dodging the lion house's members and questioning gazes and making sure no one was following him.
Finally, he arrived at her office, and knocked.
"It's open. Come in."
The woman was already prepared for the lesson, it seemed, having cleared her office to provide a decently large space.
"Now, Mr Renshaw. Let's see what you've remembered since yesterday. Assume your duelling position."
Blake got ready, and almost instantaneously, she was on him.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Blake barely had time to register the spell, let alone dodge it, as McGonagall continued.
"Impedimenta!" However, all it took was one spell for Blake to get warmed up.
"Protego!" McGonagall's spell hit the shield and failed, but neither of them were giving up.
"Incendio!"
"Aguamenti! Locomotor Wibbly!" The water hit the fire, creating a burst of steam between the duellists, and Blake's second spell continued onwards through it. That second spell is easy and quick to do - not much effort or wand movement. That being said, it's easy to counter too, but she still needs to counter - that buys me a fraction of a second.
"Confundo!"
"Protego!"
"Immobulus!"
"Protego!"
Oh no - I'm getting tired? Fine then - one last try. Blake waited for his opponent to make her move, as they slowly circled each other.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Finite Incantatem! Lumos Solem! Expelliarmus!" Perfect - I cancelled the disarm, blinded her and now-
"Stupefy!"
A dash of red light moved towards Blake, and faster than he could move, hit him squared in the chest, stunning him.
Damn it!
With a wave of her wand, McGonagall undid the spell, and Blake got up to his feet, groaning.
"You didn't teach me that last spell, Professor!" he protested, his tone slightly accusatory.
"Unfortunately, Mr Renshaw, when you're fighting, you won't always know what spells your opponent knows, nor the extent of their capabilities, will you?"
Upon Blake's silence, she continued.
"You did well at the beginning, dodging the body bind spell - however, it seemed that you got a bit excited afterwards, and fired far too many spells in such a short time - magical fatigue exists, Mr Renshaw - it grows with practice, just like physical fatigue, but it's very worth keeping track of in a battle. Dodge where you can, and don't fire spells for the sake of it - calculate every move, and then eventually, when you reach a certain stage, it'll become instinct."
Slightly disheartened that he didn't win, Blake muttered, "Yes, Professor." That being said, he wasn't about to mope around about it, as he went to pick up his wand. McGonagall picked up on his disappointment.
"That being said, you still did fire a number of spells - 8, I believe - and a number of them were beyond first year. And beyond that, apart from the Confundo and the Immobolus, they were all with good ideas - you used the wobbling legs spell because it was the quickest available one at the time, after countering the fire, correct? And that gave you some time to get off the backfoot and start attacking - but you lost that advantage quickly by firing off other spells that didn't make sense to use, but you realised that, and the last exchange was very good. Don't be ashamed - you are a capable duellist already, Mr Renshaw - a strong duellist, even despite your age. I believe you would already beat many second years, and perhaps even some third years, if you're lucky."
The Professor's words, although slightly uplifting, didn't do much to ease Blake.
"Thanks, Professor. But, well, I don't mean to be rude, or presumptuous - but how long will it take for me to reach you?"
McGonagall merely laughed at his question, having expected it. He is a Slytherin, after all. But that fire in his eyes? He certainly could be Gryffindor too.
"That depends on you, Mr Renshaw. How much potential you have, and how far you will go. The more you train, the more you practice, the more you fight - the better you'll become."
Blake agreed with her, but internally still worried. I need to do better. I lost my sense too quickly in that duel. But he put those thoughts aside. I only have 2 hours every day with McGonagall - I need to make the most of it.
"Ready, Mr Renshaw?" McGonagall asked, walking to stand next to her student. Blake nodded.
Whatever it takes.
—
"Where were you, Blake?" Tracey asked, her mouth full of food, much to Greengrass and Zabini's disgust.
"I was just talking to some Professors about something," Blake said dismissively. "Did I miss anything?"
"Nope, just Malfoy giving his usual speeches about his father and Potter. Think he needs to get a life, if I'm being honest," Tracey said matter-of-factly. As Blake dug into his food, Charlotte spoke up, for a change.
"Does anyone have any ideas of what we're going to do after dinner?" she said, still shy, but not as shy as before.
"Not sure," Blake quickly responded, not wanting the introverted girl to feel unheard. "Do you have any ideas, Charlotte?"
The girl shook her head, but someone else piped up.
"We'll think of something," Tracey said.
"We have 5 people, that's enough to do stuff."
"Where did you get five?" Blake asked innocently, side-eying Zabini, who was focusing far too heavily on the steak in front of him.
"Me, you, Charlotte, Daph, and Blaise!"
This time, Zabini didn't accuse Tracey of anything - he went straight for Blake.
"Stop instigating!"
"Huh?"
"It's obvious what you're doing. Stop it!"
"Not got a clue what you're on about, Zabini."
"Maybe you can discuss it later, when we're doing whatever we decide to do later?" Charlotte interjected, a small smile on her face.
"Are you getting involved too?" Zabini snapped at her, though much more gentle than his words to the others in the group.
"I don't recall Greengrass saying she would participate either," Zabini said, trying to change the subject. "So why do I have to?"
"Oh, don't worry, Daph will, won't you Daph?"
"I told you before, Tracey. If I have spare time, and you and maybe Rosier are free, then fine. But I'm not associating with muggleborns." Their group went silent at her words.
Well, that's awkward.
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