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Post by OCTAVIAN CORVUS on Sept 17, 2023 2:32:46 GMT -5
There was some validation derived from sending the dueling tourney champion backward into the wall, even as Octavian worked to correct his footing, in order to avoid the crumbling stone around the hole behind him. He was now closer to Maeve, which meant the spells would pass between them incredibly fast, which was something Octavian had wanted. Being a skilled duelist required accuracy, speed and potency in casting; this would be an opportunity to see where the pair measured against one another.
"Apologies," Octavian said, as he glanced down to Maeve's feet as she recovered against the wall. "I must have applied the wrong amount of intent during class."
He clearly referred to the shoes.
With a final few steps, Octavian felt comfortable to be free of the stone damage, then prepared to continue. However, it was at that moment, Maeve decided to fire a spell the other wasn't familiar with. Vulnus Pertinax. A split second to consider options, Octavian whipped his wand and continued to sidestep as he shielded--
"Hm?"
--though, much to his surprise, no shield sparkage occurred. Instead, there was a pain felt, specifically across Octavian's left hip and left inner forearm, as though a slicing blade had passed between the space. Instinctively the older Slytherin clamped his hand against the hip, even as he gritted his teeth and pointed his wand - "Confringo!" - and fired a powerfully infused spell, much more than previously so far, into the wall above Maeve. The explosion was deafening, the debris went in every direction, and the purpose had been to allow Octavian a moment to see to his injury while his opponent avoided whatever wall started to fall.
Octavian looked down under his robe with his left hand, he saw blood soaking against the white shirt, and caught the drips from within his sleeve. Both cuts needed tending, quickly:
"Episkey. Episkey."
The older Slytherin said through clenched teeth, as he applied the healing charm rapidly to both regions, though didn't have time to check the result. Not with Maeve likely in a state of recovery and probably on the verge of continuing the bout; and if her sudden onset of serious spell casting was any indication, it meant Octavian needed his full attention, rather than being focused on the wounds...
Octavian kept his hand on his hip, as he pointed his wand to Maeve.
Post by MAEVE THORNE on Sept 17, 2023 3:27:54 GMT -5
His mock apology was infuriating but Maeve ignored it, simply adding it as another log to the ever-growing flames of her anger. Corvus could say whatever he wanted about intent, but she knew what the best fuel for it was - and she inexhaustible amounts of it...
...Until she saw the spell hit him, and remembered where they were - at a school that had strict rules about dueling outside of adult-supervised matches, and even stricter rules about employing Dark Arts. While her curse only caused a few cuts that did not look terrible by themselves, they would bleed. And bleed. And bleed. It would likely take several days for it to stop, and there could be times when the victim thinks it is over and decides to get some rest... only to never wake up. A horrifying future was forming in her mind's eye - one with metal bars, damp stone walls and dementors.
"Wait--" The explosion above her head made her crouch and cast a shield upward to protect herself from the falling debris. This, too, was a much more powerful execution of the spell than Corvus had displayed before.
The dust was still settling when she rose back into an upright position, breathing heavily. "You will need Blood-Replenishing Potions for that." She didn't want him to die, not even if it could solve a lot of her current problems - should she somehow escape murder charges, that is. Which wasn't likely, since he would probably just go to the Hospital Wing and tell the first faculty member he encountered all about her, the Room, the books, the lessons with Niklas...
"Expelliarmus!"
His life was not in any immediate danger at the moment, and she provided him with the required information to keep it that way. She was not going to call for a truce.
Post by OCTAVIAN CORVUS on Sept 17, 2023 6:18:31 GMT -5
Octavian heard what Maeve said, even as the stone portions and debris of wall crashed down and around her. It appeared the redheaded Slytherin knew exactly what spell she had performed, even possessing knowledge of the means to care for wounds, and had proved she practiced Dark Arts. There were no books at Hogwarts that Octavian had read through, which weren't all of them admittedly but still numerous, that outlined the spell or incantation or effects. He also hadn't seen it referenced in Maeve's personal collection.
"Was that a curse from Durmstrang?" the older Slytherin asked, eyes narrowed after she mentioned the potions needed. "It seems you cannot claim to not practice Dark Arts now, Maeve."
There was still pain in Octavian's side, as he pressed his palm to the hip through his robes. The bleeding from his sleeve told him all he needed to know - the healing charm hadn't worked. And with that understanding, the warning about Blood-Replenishing Potions made sense, as he estimated the curse caused some kind of lingering wound. Not mention being unblockable, as far as he knew from the rapid encounter, by a Protego.
A vicious thing, that curse.
Maeve renewed the attack, as she cast at Octavian. He whipped his wand in front of him - "Protego!" - as he deflected the Expelliarmus. It seemed his opponent wanted to push the advantage, knowing full well of the bleeding, though admittedly it was mostly staunched with robe for the moment; and part of Octavian could respect that, he supposed, but another part felt a growing anger...
"Pulsus!"
The spell was delivered with much more force, like the previous Confringo.
"Pulsus!"
Again, Octavian lashed out.
"Fight back, use more of your Dark Arts. Or fall, defeated."
Octavian didn't smile, as he instead narrowed his eyes and curled his lip. He knew he had to end things soon, preferably with a victory, to assess his wounds and go about a slow bleeding death...
Post by MAEVE THORNE on Sept 17, 2023 7:20:05 GMT -5
Her intent to inflict harm drained up once she finally succeeded at doing it. Maeve doubted she could produce so much as a Knockback Jinx right now, let alone repeat the curse she cast at Corvus. The thought of what might happen once he told a professor about her private studies, with his wounds acting as proof she was a danger to her fellow students, was causing fear rather than anger. Any Dark spell she cast at him now would only make the situation worse.
The chatter was welcome now, as she needed a pause to recover. "Perhaps it was, or perhaps you simply did not get all of my books." That was true enough - she had a much larger collection at home, the tomes she brought here were only light reading for those moments when she had free time on her hands.
"Protego!" She deflected the first attack with the shield. The second one was evaded by quickly moving away from the wall and to the side, where there was more open space and less rubble.
As she walked, she found her movements were not as easily produced as before. Who knew that arms were affected so much by simply making a few steps? Well, she did now, as her whole left arm felt as though it was on fire. Sharp knives were poking it after every minute action done by a body part that did not seem to be directly connected to the injured limb. She suspected it might be a fracture. Funny how after some five years of playing Quidditch, her first such injury - something caused by Bludgers on a regular basis - happened outside of the pitch.
The pain, combined with Corvus' comments, reawakened some of her anger. "Just remember that you asked for this," she hissed, contriving to sound far more determined than she actually was.
"Recumbus! Ignis Iunctis! Avis!"
The three spells were fired rapidly after one another, two colourful jets and a large flock of small grey birds of no particular species - her aim was to give them sharp beaks rather than a realistic appearance. The tiny avians would attack without being bid to do it, but there was also an awful lot of stone and wood fragments on the floor - it would be a shame to let that go to waste. She swished her wand around before aiming it at Corvus.
"Oppugno!"
Dozens of small debris pieces rose into the air and began swarming around the older Slytherin. None of these spells were particularly Dark, as magic went, yet she did not think he would find the time to complain.
Post by OCTAVIAN CORVUS on Sept 17, 2023 8:02:35 GMT -5
The idea that Octavian had not seen all of Maeve's personal books was intriguing. He smiled a bit at that. The ones he had read had been informative, though the task had been at a pace, due to the closing end of school year. Yet, Octavian fancied that, should things go as he hoped, he might very well see more of those personal collections. Until then, however, it was a matter of completing the duel and addressing the issue of his wounds; the very same that continued to bleed, even now.
As Octavian had spoken, trying to lure Maeve into action again, she had moved. There seemed to be a reaction, at least, followed by a flourish of casting that was entirely representative of a dueling club leader and tourney victor. And as the attacks flashed, it was up to Octavian to show his capabilities with a defensive tact, which wasn't exactly his strong suit, though he was still a sixth year student.
"Protego! Protego!"
The first two spells, the Trip Jinx and Conjunctivitis Curse, were deflected with effort. The protective shield flashed, with the second almost being too slow, before the flock of birds was summoned and sent mere seconds after.
"Depulso!"
And the flock that was before him, flying at him, was caught by the counter and sent flailing to smack into the wall around Maeve. The conjured creatures, an assortment of grey birds, landed with an impact against the stone - the collective splats was almost comical, if it weren't unfortunate to hear the chirps. Still, with the determination Octavian had seen in her all this time, Maeve brought to bear another spell that was impressive and showed a strategic mind.
"Heh." Octavian muttered, as he watched the debris and bits flying around before heading toward him. "Commendable. Finite Incantatem."
A wave of the wand, and Octavian watched as the dangerous swirl of projectiles went inert and toppled back to the ground, some with quite loud thuds. The potential injury from being hit by some of that was very realized. Octavian turned to look at Maeve, as he aimed his wand, and his features adopted a far more serious and cold appearance...
"Flipendo! Stupefy! Extendombrum! Expulso!"
The spells were cast in rapid succession, as Octavian utilized all of his skill and training, delivering an incredibly quick - and complex - sequence of attacks of high year level; his wand moved through the air like an orchestra conductor, his incantations immaculate, and the final explosive attack sent with an intensity and potency he hoped would decimate Maeve's shield.
But he wasn't done.
"Petrificus Totalus."
The final proverbial note in the crescendo of his spell casting, as Octavian stabbed his wand toward his opponent, and gritted his teeth at the pain in his side and arm.
Post by MAEVE THORNE on Sept 17, 2023 9:02:40 GMT -5
The four spells she directed at Corvus had drained her energy and significantly reduced what temporary resilience to pain she still possessed. Every motion was making it worse. She could feel something trickling down her arm, already reaching her wrist; the sleeve was sticking to her skin. Though shallow, the cut was still bleeding.
Sending more offensive spells at her opponent did not seem wise, or even possible. She readied herself for the incoming attacks, suddenly feeling quite calm now that the end of the duel was near - even with the crystallized awareness of her imminent defeat.
As jets of light filled the air, she dodged the two initial ones, flinching at the agony swift movements were causing to her injured arm. Her insides felt as though they had been set aflame, the aftermath of her evasive manoeuvres making it seem like getting hit with one of those spells might have been the better option. It was all she could do to not double up and retch.
"Protego."
The jinx was deflected, but a much more dangerous curse came. It appeared that Corvus intended to blast her to pieces, even though she did not direct any lethal magics at him during the whole duel. Well, not immediately lethal, anyway.
"Protego!"
Her shield was blown apart the instant it came up, the force of the explosion making her stumble backwards. She did not get a chance to steady herself - the final curse hit her square in the chest, forcing her body to go rigid and fall to the floor. The impact caused another jolt of pain to course through her arm, intense enough that she might have gasped - had she been able to produce sounds. Her wand was not in her hand anymore, or at least she did not feel it there. What she did feel, now that most other physical stimuli were removed, was the burning of her slit upper arm and the sharp stinging feeling in her elbow. Maeve couldn't be sure whether the bone was indeed fractured or not, but forcing the entire limb into a stiff straight position felt like torture. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Post by OCTAVIAN CORVUS on Sept 17, 2023 9:33:37 GMT -5
The defensive effort by Maeve had been stirring, she had blocked the Expulso as had been hoped, though in the end it had been too much and the final spell hit. Octavian watched as his opponent fell to the ground with a stiff thud, which almost caused him to wince, though he instead exhaled slowly and caught his breath. The duel had been invigorating, exciting, and the chance to use his magic to levels he actually could had been amazing... even if it came at the cost of Maeve, who lay frozen on the stone floor.
"An enjoyable bout," the older Slytherin said as he walked over, a limp evident from the hip wound. "You have certainly earned your accolades."
For a moment, Octavian stood over the rigid form of Maeve, looking at her with cool eyes. She looked so helpless now, as she was, the result of the conclusion Octavian had expected. He slowly bent down to one knee, the injured one, as he clenched his jaw against the stab of pain. There was much he could say, much he could gloat about, but all that seemed a faux pas to his end goals; and there was little doubt, in Octavian's mind, that Maeve would see any taunting or continued spite as to be remembered.
"I plan to leave you here, until the spell wears off. I understand you are in pain, we both are, though my wounds seem far more stubborn than your own..."
Instead, Octavian smiled, despite his slashes.
"Episkey."
The spell was cast at the injured arm, the one she had been favoring toward the end. Also targeted was the slice from the Diffindo, as the blood on her hand was evident on inspection. Octavian might have left her there, to suffer, but doing so wouldn't help his future plans or ideas. Far better to make an unexpected show of mercy, to lessen the disdain she likely felt.
"You are a skilled duellist, Maeve Thorne, there is no denying it," Octavian said as he pushed to stand, wincing, as more blood dripped from his sleeve. "However, you made a critical miscalculation: you displayed your power, to the fullest, for all to see. Far more dangerous is the power one cannot see, wouldn't you agree?"
Octavian offered a nod, before he turned and started to leave.
"Oh, and do not worry... I will leave all of this, your experimenting and books and our duel, as a personal experience between us. Take your time, Maeve, and I will see you when I see you."
The older Slytherin slipped his wand away, before he wrapped the forearm wound with more sleeve, and then reapplied pressure to the hip. He limped from the Room of Requirement, stepped through the doorway with a quick look down the hallways, then exited to leave Maeve to her own - paralyzed - devices until time came to move once again...
I had best tend to these wounds. And start preparing potions.
Post by MAEVE THORNE on Sept 18, 2023 0:36:44 GMT -5
After barely deflecting the Expulso Curse, Maeve was convinced this was not the end of her woes. Taunts were bound to come, possibly torture as well. She had very limited skill in non-verbal magic, and even less in wandless - yet her mind was stuck in an endless chant of Finite Incantatem, as though it could somehow free her. It did not.
Not a single muscle could be moved; she could not even turn her gaze to glare at the older boy in defiance, as her eyes were stuck staring straight ahead. Her heart was not paralyzed, however, and compensated for the lack of outward motion by pumping rapidly. Mentally, she braced for whatever might come next.
A few offhand compliments and a comment on the injuries both of them sustained had not even made the list of things she was expecting. The Healing Charm - even less so. The pain vanished, it was no longer an agony to be lying there - at least not a physical agony. What was he planning? Did he intend to make it seem like she alone was aiming to wound or kill, while all he did was try to harmlessly immobilize her? That would certainly remove any risk on his part; he would play the role of a responsible, well-meaning, heroic Prefect.
More praise came, entwined with criticism. By now she was struggling to zone out, to block his words from entering her mind - that was the only means of resistance she had left. It was unfortunate that with her body paralyzed, her senses were sharpened; despite her best efforts, she found herself hanging on every word Corvus uttered. The lecture was irksome. All he did was defeat her in a duel. That did not automatically mean hiding one's skill from others was the best way to go through life. It was only true in those cases when the skill in question happened to be above someone else's. That way, it was easy to manipulate the weaker opponent into entering combat, then gloat about victory. She refused to accept his wisdom - it sounded ridiculous to her. Any flickers of thought about him possibly being correct were snuffed out.
What took her aback was the promise to continue keeping her secrets, even after this confrontation. Why do all of it at all, then? Why blackmail her, threaten her, vex her? Just for some stupid mind game, or for a purpose she was not aware of? Before she could stop herself, she wondered what his final evaluation was, after all these months of testing her to the very limit.
It was several hours before the curse finally wore off enough for Maeve to regain control of her body. It started gradually, as she felt her fingers relax at first; a few minutes later, her limbs lost the tension that had locked them in place. She was able to move. But she chose not to.
For a long time, her only action was to close her eyes. She stayed still for about an hour after that, looking for all the world as though she was sleeping. Her mind was replaying all the interactions she had with Corvus since the start of this term, reevaluating them, seeing the falsehood and trickery in his words and doings. His game had progressed so far, and she was still hundreds of steps behind, trying to read the rules that were encrypted in a code she could not crack. Was he done with her, or had he merely started? If she refused to interact with him whatsoever, would he eventually lose interest? She would have to try that approach.
Eventually, Maeve sat up, her muscles feeling stiff and sore after the duel, as well as so many hours spent on a hard floor. She picked up her wand, which turned out to have been mere inches from her right hand the whole time. A series of healing, cleaning and mending spells fixed her appearance, so nobody could tell she had been in a struggle. It was well past curfew; she could only hope everyone in the castle was sleeping, and the party in the Slytherin common room had ended.
She opened the drawer that held her books and placed all of them into her bag before she left the Room, firmly resolving never to come back to it. At least not to this version of it.