Ruben Lundqvist
Sharing my wisdom [Holland]
Tue Jun 5, 2018 00:57

As he was reaching the end of his explanation, the rising breeze tossed a section of blonde hair across his nose. Ruben took this as a sign that it was time to move on to their next activity (he would have found another sign if convenient wind hadn’t happened) and pulled a tie off his wrist, deftly sweeping the long hair back while he kept talking. “So you see, it is easy. Maybe not so easy to cast in a sneaky way,” he conceded with a smirk that was more sarcastic than genuine. When it came to magic targeting other people, Holland wasn’t close to his level or even Rose’s, but their delicate and complicated demonstration at last year’s talent show suggested that they could be as sneaky as they wanted to. “But easy after that. You won’t have to do anything.”

It would probably come as no surprise to anyone that Ruben had been enjoying their meetings. The initial surge of anger he had felt upon realizing, somewhere between Holland approaching him for advice-slash-training, his concerned probing, and general eavesdropping on school gossip, that his ex had been assaulted by their new boyfriend’s sister, hadn’t vanished. He was still angry. Some might say he was always angry, and they would be almost correct. But Holland had come to him, had trusted both him and his expertise enough to ask his help. That felt pretty damn great. And being able to do something for them helped him repress the urge to throw Claudia into a coma.

Well. Mostly. Would’ve helped more if he could tap into his full repertoire, but he knew Holland well enough to know without them saying that they wouldn’t be completely on board with learning how to, say, curse the brain to trigger a concussion, or ignite the neurons and leave their now stupid-in-a-new-way victim with ears smoking. As for detaching tendons or making fingernails grow backwards… Those were both effective short-term measures to slow an attacker and could be repaired by a Healer without much risk of lasting damage, as long as the Healer wasn’t totally incompetent. He might be able to talk them into it. Ruben mentally filed the thought away for later.

He was attempting to teach Holland a good mix of physical and magical tactics. The current theme for today’s magical topic was not body parts, exactly, but clothes. He’d started with a brief explanation of kläderätare, which he had put on Steven at the April Fools party. (Ruben assumed that the transformation of Steven’s wool sweater into a shoulderless, and later backless, top would make more sense to them now.) Then he moved onto its more interesting cousin, kläderkämpe. In contrast to “clothes-eater”, which simply unravelled clothing with the person’s movement, the “clothes-fighter” variant had two big differences. Första, it did not respond to movement, but rather to changes in the flow of magical energies. Whether it was cast in a Muggle or Wizarding setting shouldn’t matter, since the magic of the environment should remain constant or constant-ish, but as soon as the person on whom it was cast tried a spell of their own, it would activate and begin unravelling. Which carried him to the second point: the threads didn’t simply unravel and vanish, but heated up rapidly such that it would ideally feel like red-hot wires being dragged over one’s skin. Again, something effectively treated with burn meds, at least on the surface level, but very distracting and a great way to catch your attacker by surprise.

Theoretically, whoever you cast it on could shake it off with a well-timed Finite and only get a quick ouch, but the odds that someone would figure it out that quickly were small. It wasn’t a textbook jinx; it had been invented off the original by his sister’s former classmate, and Durmstrang graduates were nothing if not selective in their sharings. He had been selective in choosing this one to share with Holland. It seemed right up their street: defensive in nature, undetectable until their opponent decided to draw a wand, and entirely based off their opponent’s behaviour rather than damage inflicted by them. They would cast first, but only as a preventative measure, and as long as the other person didn’t have a sudden revelation that their anti-Holland sentiments shouldn’t stay inside of their own ugly head and instead be thrown at them in the form of a hex or curse or... technically it’d activate just with a Lumos, but this was about Holland’s safety and they could use their own judgement to cast it only when necessary och så vidare. As long as the other person didn’t act, they wouldn’t be hurt. And if they did act, then Holland had been in the right to take preventative measures, and their own spells in response would get an extra kick too by proxy. Ta-da. Loophole.

(Loopholes were great. Ruben didn’t yet have a loophole for the whole kiddie fight club thing, which was a violation of Durmstrang’s unspoken exclusionary code even without the notes he was preparing for them to use next year, but he didn’t give a frozen fjord about that because it was hilarious to think that soon they would all be kicking asses of the older students. Also he had preemptively put a curse on the binder so that, if anyone who wasn’t Remington, Dade, Drew, or Kalle-Anssi touched it, it would burst into a nice big column of flames. It had been a very careful process, collecting their fingerprints in the Passageways without accidentally getting any of Kit’s. He was still surprised that Kit hadn’t blurted out the secret, but that had zero effect on the question of whether she could look after his notes, which was not really a question so much as a snort and eyeroll. Remy would be the holder and the boys her backup. That was it.)

Arms folded over each other now, an exposed bicep curving out from under his shirtsleeve, his blue eyes fixed on Holland’s. “Now cast it on me. See how you do with it.” This request was not unusual, having repeated it to them (sometimes with more forcible insistence than others) during prior meets. The practicality of it couldn’t be denied: Ruben was best suited to determine whether success could be had with the spells he taught, and the only way to get a proper observation was by making himself the subject. Besides, everything he was teaching them, he’d been subject to already, and typically by people who were less… Holland. He wasn’t ignorant enough to argue he couldn’t be surprised, but it was unlikely here.

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