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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1893. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.

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Vanishing Patience
October 15, 1893 — A Random Classroom
Killian Claxton

Charles was finding it very difficult to concentrate this afternoon, for reasons he hadn't worked out yet. After lunch, he'd gone back to the common room to work on Transfiguration, but there had been too many people about. He'd come down to this empty classroom to do his work, but so far he wasn't having any more luck than he had before. He was meant to be working on vanishing, but the only thing vanishing at the moment was his patience. The quill he'd picked out of his bag to practice on was still stubbornly sitting on the desk, mocking him.

When the door opened, it was almost a relief to have a distraction, but still Charles sighed, saying without looking up, "Sorry, I'm already using this space."

Killian found himself tailed by a group of eager first-years, their eyes wide with curiosity about the ins and outs of Hogwarts—an unexpected "interrogation" orchestrated by his youngest sister, Blair. Such episodes had become customary, a consequence of having siblings attending the same school.

In an attempt to dodge the incessant questioning, he slipped into the first available classroom. As he laid eyes on Charles' fatigued and noticeably irritated expression, Killian's own exhaustion transformed into mischievous amusement.
With a quirked brow and a heavy Irish accent lending weight to his dark voice, Killian broke the silence as he stepped further into the room. "Look at you, all by yourself, wearing the face of a man who just lost a duel with a quill," he remarked, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Must be a riveting battle you're having there, Whymper."

The rivalry between the two students crackled in the cool air. Killian might argue that he had nothing in common with the Ravenclaw student, thereby giving way to his animosity towards Charles. However, many would probably argue the opposite—that the overlapping traits, like ambition and competitiveness, were precisely what had them at each other's throats.

Killian's back pressed against the massive oak table at the front of the classroom as he casually let his eyes roam the familiar space. Routinely rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt and loosening his green tie, he took a moment to appreciate the silence, away from his sister and her possy.

"Look," he refocused his gaze on the dark-haired boy before Charles started repeating himself, "...I'm not here to steal your peace, Whymper. Just taking a breather from..." He came to a halt and glanced at the door. No, there was absolutely no need to disclose the fact that a bunch of first-years had him cornered in a classroom. "Well, the 'why' is not as important as the fact that you’ll be stuck with me for a little while."

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Charles let out a very put-upon sigh. He shouldn't be surprised, he thought, that his interruption would be from someone difficult. That did seem to be how his day was going, after all.

"You can't take a breather somewhere else?" Charles asked, peering at Claxton skeptically. As far as he knew, there was nothing particularly special about this classroom, after all. That had rather been the point--it was an unlikely place for him to be interrupted by anyone. Theoretically. Sighing again, and perhaps with just a bit of an eye roll, he said, "At least be quiet, then, if you're going to stay." He turned back to the quill that was vexing him. "I did come here to avoid distractions."

Charles did not appreciate his company. A hefty sigh escaped him, a palpable sign of annoyance. Despite this, Killian seemed undeterred, making himself more comfortable instead of taking the hint to leave.

"Always so welcoming," Killian countered with a teasing glint in his eyes as he slipped into the seat behind the massive table, propping his legs comfortably on the wooden surface. He arched a brow. "You know, I expected better from a Ravenclaw—aren't you supposed to be the friendly bunch?"

There was no denying that this wasn't Killian's ideal way to spend his time either. He had a long list of places he'd rather be, but circumstances had him stuck here, and he intended to make the most of it. Clearly, Charles had his own opposing agenda, instructing him to keep quiet—a request that Killian deliberately chose to ignore.

"Avoid distractions,"
he echoed in his Irish lilt, feigning thoughtfulness as he frowned. "Quite the bundle of joy, aren’t you” he continued, arms crossed comfortably behind his head. "Ever contemplated having fun? I reckon it might do you some good." The words were playfully delivered, a light-hearted jab at Charles's stiff attitude.

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"How do you know this isn't how I have fun?" Charles asked dryly. He gestured at the desk in front of him. "What about this doesn't look like a party to you?"

Charles shook his head. He didn't expect Claxton to actually leave immediately of course--that would be too simple, and not at all like how his day was going currently, after all. "I'd think you'd understand the need to focus on studies, Claxton," he said. "Don't you have NEWTs this year? Aren't you concerned about them?"

It was an unexpected question, but Killian shouldn't really be surprised that this was Charles' idea of fun – sitting in an almost deserted classroom with a wand and a quill. "Don't know, suppose it wouldn't really surprise me if it were," he answered honestly, casting a contemplative glance at the door leading to the hallway. In comparison to this, his sister's relentless questioning was gradually starting to seem like the more favorable option. "Do ye truly want me to respond to that question?" He looked back at Charles with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle.

Many people had asked him the same question before. It seemed like they believed the only way to learn was by staring into an old book all day. Killian's grin persisted as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I do, but I don't use it as an excuse to be a killjoy," he replied with his usual straightforwardness. He shrugged casually. "No, why would I waste time on that?"

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Charles shook his head. He couldn't understand Claxton, honestly. Though, he supposed, they came from rather different backgrounds. Charles couldn't begin to imagine what he'd be like under different circumstances.

He shrugged. "It's your funeral, then," he said. "If you want to waste your time, that's your business."

Killian cracked a smile, not feeling the pressure that Charles obviously was experiencing. Suppose they did come from rather different backgrounds. He’d been through a lot worse than a stack of papers filled with questions.

“Maybe, maybe not” Killian opted for the diplomatic answer. Not one he usually went for, but arguing with Whymper was not his idea of a fun time. Instead, he sought to change the topic to something more in alignment with the studious Ravenclaw student seated in front of him “So, what are ye working on right now?” he nodded towards the feather laying still on the table.

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"Vanishing," Charles answered, this time with a sigh directed at the quill in front of him rather than at the other boy. "I don't know why it's given me so much trouble." Well, aside from the obvious answer--that he was working himself too hard. The thought had occurred to him. He just didn't see a way around it.

“Evanesco,” Killian said, nodding in understanding as he leaned back slightly. “It’s a tricky one, that.” He remembered mastering it during his fifth year at Hogwarts, recalling the extra effort and time it had demanded. “Ye seem bright, all right… so, if ye’re struggling, odds are ye’re trying too hard,” Killian offered, then quickly winced at his own words. Had he actually just complimented Whymper? Goddamn. That was his cue to leave. Feeling a sudden restlessness, Killian glanced towards the doorway. “Well, I should be going,” he stated, rising to his feet and stretching as he headed for the exit. “Good luck, Whymper,” he called out as the door swung shut behind him.

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Charles watched Claxton leave, shaking his head with a sigh. Well, now at least he had the peace and quiet he'd wanted again. Turning back to his work, he went back to his efforts. Unfortunately, knowing he was trying too hard was not at all the same as relaxing, so he'd probably be at it for a while longer.

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