Meetings ((Dylan and Cavan))

[Dylan Cooper]

Setting himself for another hour or two of working on this interminable Transfiguration essay, he located a vacant table in the corner of the library’s main section and set his things out around him. His satchel on the chair beside him, open and easily accessible for any reaching hands of his, his parchment set before him on a slight angle to the left and his quill poised and ready to go. His Transfiguration textbook was laid onto the table just to the right of his half-filled first page of parchment, open at the desirable page and not difficult at all to read from his current vantage point.

His eagle-feather quill moving to the slightly crumpled parchment below, his eyes flicked almost continuously toward the textbook as he tried to pick up from where he’d left it the night before. Generally he didn’t like to disperse an essay between sessions, but he’d been so exhausted from practicing his Quidditch keeping skills in the heavy snow and had only managed, in about two and a half hours, to get an introduction and first paragraph down. Those two paragraphs, admittedly, had not even been particularly eloquent or long, but he had struggled to get them down nevertheless.

Emitting a breath that may have even sounded like a slight sigh, Dylan searched the text once more before completing his sentence. The information seemed to filter through him like nothing more than water, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t really retain any of it; once the words had hit the page, he would not be able to recall them even in the next hour. Continuing nevertheless, he managed to complete a second paragraph before setting down his quill and leaning back in his chair, tensing his shoulder blades and stretching his arms and fingers out.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

Cavan had been worried for several days now, unable to find D’rorah or the boy called Mallan, he’s only chance in trying to figure out what might have happened, and see if there was anything he could do, was to seek out Mr. Cooper. He didn’t often use honorifics, but he didn’t know the other boy, and when D’rorah spoke of him, it was as Mr. Cooper. So he’d been looking all over the school for the Ravenclaw boy, finally giving up, he’d decided to continue his translations in hopes that at least that would be helpful.

He was rather surprised when he entered the library, ready to get back to his studying and immediately saw the one person he’d been looking for all day. He rolled his eyes at himself, having no idea why he hadn’t looked here earlier. He pulled the book D’rorah had lent him, having read it at least a half dozen times since she’d given it to him. He knew Mr. Cooper could be trusted, because otherwise D’rorah would not think so highly of him, was his thought. And so he approached the older boy, hugging the book to himself tightly, taking a deep breath for courage.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cooper? I’m sorry to interrupt your studies, but if I could speak with you for a moment.” So eloquent, as always, but there was a tense tone in his voice, worried and tired. There was no bright smile on his face, his eyes looked more haunted and since his mentors disappearance, he’d made no attempt to hide the fact. He took naps between classes during the day, but it made no difference.

[Dylan Cooper]

Determinedly proceeding through his third paragraph, he stopped at the end of expressing a particular thought and got out a small measuring tape from the front pocket of the backpack beside him. Extending it out directly beside the parchment before him, he measured how many inches he’d done and a small grimace came onto his features. Eyeing the parchment distastefully, he leant back once more and, after a moment or two debating, sighed and went back to work.

A sound catching his attention, he looked up and found the young boy D’rorah had been working with before him. Unsure of his name, it really mattered little at this point, given the seriousness of the boy’s tone. He didn’t think he’d ever actually had a conversation with Cavan before, nor formally met him; in fact, the only interaction he’d really had with him had been in classes, simply due to the fact that they both sat beside D’rorah whenever possible.

His eyes on Cavan, he gently set his quill down, noting just what his tone might mean. Whatever it was, it was clearly important, despite the polite manner in which those words had been spoken. “Of course,” he replied quietly, indicating his now free hand to the seat opposite of where he himself was sitting. His attention averted completely from his work, he saw for the first time the haunted look in the first year’s eyes. “What’s going on?” he questioned in a light voice, leaning forward slightly in his chair, his eyes intent.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

Cavan took a deep breath and took the preoffered seat. He looked around to make sure no one was paying much mind to them, reassured he handed the book he'd been clinging to, to Dylan. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath and as turned his attention from the book he'd given the older boy, to his face. "D'rorah gave this to me to read the other day. She said she'd talk to me about it more the next day. But I haven't seen her sense and I was hoping you knew something. D'rorah trusts you a lot Mr. Cooper and so I do..." He shifted in the chair and looked around again. "I've read this book several times since she entrusted it to me, and I have a lot of questions. Thankfully it answered most of the ones I had but didn't realize I had at the time... I'm hoping you can help me... Or I could help you..." He wasn't sure what he was really saying, he'd been trying to figure out what to say all day, and it had just kind of rushed out of him.

[Dylan Cooper]

His eyes lingering perhaps overlong on the book, he took it in one hand and felt his hand clench around it automatically, as if he should never let go. His jaw tensed at the unpredictable situation, for he quite disliked the unpredictable when such terse tones were involved. Still eyeing the book in his hands, he raised his gaze only when Cavan began to speak about what was on his mind.

Finding the younger student’s own eyes on him, his normal reaction of embarrassment whenever someone looked at him didn’t seem evident at all. In fact, for the first time in a while, he might not have even known a large scar currently adorned his cheek. Focusing on the boy’s words, his mind alighted to the mention of D’rorah. As he continued, however, he became steadily more worried. Doing his utmost to keep it from showing on his face, not wanting to alarm the boy, he unconsciously licked his lips as he thought.

Surprised, to say the least, that Cavan apparently trusted him, he supposed that since they had never met D’rorah’s own opinions of himself must have transferred. The two had to be close for the Hufflepuff to feel that way about him, and he found himself wanting to smile as he thought of what Dee might say about him to others; perhaps she didn’t even need to say anything for someone to pick up her feelings. Pushing that thought aside, not knowing if it was anywhere near the truth or not, he looked down and surveyed the book within his grasp.

Seeing nothing too apparent at first glance, he looked more carefully at it and opened it to a random page, handling it with care. Seeing D’rorah’s neat handwriting scrawled all across it, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Closing it once more, he kept it firmly within his grasp in case of anyone bold enough, and curious enough, to try and take it. Granted, it was a long shot, but if anything happened to it D’rorah would skin him alive. His eyes raising to regard the first year once more, he spoke quietly. “What questions do you have?” he queried lightly, thinking to cast a Muffliato charm around the table. Given his recent wand abilities, or lack thereof, however, he decided against it and instead packed up his things.

“On second thought, Cavan, we’d better find somewhere else to speak.” Going over the list of his favourite haunts, he immediately discounted both the kitchens and Myrtle’s bathroom for the possibility of being overheard either by the elves or the miserable ghost; neither of which was a chance he was willing to take. The Quidditch Pitch would, of course, not do, and the Room of Requirement was a little bit too surreptitious should anyone happen to notice them either entering or leaving it. Cavan being a Hufflepuff, he also didn’t think that his own common room was suitable, but then again he had seen members of other houses in their before; usually brought in by Dee. That settled, he headed up to the fourth floor, the little notebook in his hands and his satchel hitched onto his back.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

He had taken the seat offered to him and explained as best he could, without revealing much, what he knew and that they needed to speak. He made no effort to get comfortable, sitting on the very edge of the chair as he watched the slight change in Mr. Cooper’s eyes as he took in all the information, processed it, and looked at the book for a moment on confirm. It happened rather quickly, but Cavan had caught it all and understood. He felt rather bad that he’d had to come to D’rorah’s Mr. Cooper for assistance, when he knew without a doubt, the other boy was already struggling, though the reason was not yet clear to him.

He stood as Mr. Cooper gathered his things, not even considering answering the question before it was revoked. After the way D’rorah had acted before giving him the book, and what he’d read and learned from the book, he understood that it was not something speak about in common place, even if you could ask a silencing charm. Following the boy out of the library and carefully up the stairs to the fourth floor, he couldn’t help wondering where he planned to talk with him. He was a little surprised to find them outside the Ravenclaw common room entrance. He smiled, even considering the circumstances; he was excited to be able to even be this close. He’d really wanted to be a Ravenclaw, but the hat had thought him better suited to Hufflepuff.

He managed to calm himself down, wishing that he knew where D’rorah was and that it were her bringing him up here. He knew that it was like any other common room, full of places to study and sit, that it was going to be nearly the same as his own common room. Thoughts such as these calmed him and he was able to start thinking about everything he’d read the past few days. He tried to organize his questions so that he could ask the more relevant ones first and work his way back.

[Dylan Cooper]

Hesitating at the entrance to his own common room, the door knocker before him seemed to take extreme pleasure in taunting his inability to think as well recently. Narrowing his eyes at the annoying thing, he searched his mind to answer the riddle and took the opportunity of a blank mind to scowl at the blasted thing. Finally, thankfully, remembering the last time he’d been given this riddle, he responded and was held up still when the feminine voice badgered away for the Hufflepuff beside him. “Just open the door,” he said roughly, his expression mutinous.

Stepping through the doorway, his eyes immediately scanned the common room and found it relatively full at this time of day. The curfew was about to come into effect so he assumed it had only just filled up and, without returning anyone’s friendly gestures towards him, filed directly toward the stairs. Rising to the fifth level, he opened the door to his dormitory and, leaving the way open for Cavan, closed the door behind the younger boy.

“Have a seat,” he said quietly, noting that Alessandro wasn’t present in the dorm as of yet. Double checking he was not in the bathroom, he turned to the door and locked it manually, not trusting his spell casting abilities one bit. “Alright, Cavan, what is it that you wanted to speak to me about, exactly?” he questioned lightly, moving to his own bed beside the window and taking a seat, facing the other boy. Unlike D’rorah, he often lapsed into speaking a person’s first name, where appropriate, in situations like the one he currently found himself in.

Raising one leg to sit up on the bed, the knee was bent and his foot was set underneath his other leg, which was currently hanging over the edge of his four-poster. Leaning one elbow on his knee, he rubbed his head gently and sighed before his eyes flicked up to Weiss again as he waited for an answer. His satchel lay abandoned on the floor beneath him and the notebook was still in his other hand, clasped tightly.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

He stood a few feet behind, containing his excitement and organizing his internal questions as he wait. He missed the riddle given, he did however, notice the time between question and answer and the tone the knocker used, all of which caused a small frown to appear on his face. It was gone before Mr. Cooper would have had time to turn around. As it was, once the door swung open, the Ravenclaw prefect started inside and Cavan, not wanting to be left outside, quickly followed after him.

Stepping through the doorway, he noticed the common room was relatively full. He wondered absently what time it was and found that he’d been lucky to find Mr. Cooper for curfew had come into effect. Much longer and he would have had to give up the search for one more night of worrying and odd nightmares of place that did exist, though not in this dimension. He followed the older boy up the stairs to the fifth level, not dawdling as he made his way into the dormitory, the door being closed behind him.

He stood just inside the room as he watched Mr. Cooper checking the rest of the dorm to make sure no one else was present. Once the door was locked, he then took stock of the room, confirming to himself that the only difference between his and these was the coloring which was of rich blues and silvers. He finally took a chair from one of the desks in the room and pulled it so that it was closer to the bed that the older boy had decided to occupy.

Upon the first question, Cavan took a deep breath and shifted in the chair, pulling his right leg up so that his arms were wrapped around it, his chin comfortably resting on his knee. “There were reasons that D’rorah gave me that book. The book answered most of the question I had, but it also gave me so many more. I don’t know what I could do to help… D’rorah says I seem destined to be a scribe, but really I’ll do anything to help. I know that even if all the warriors and masters are gathered, I don’t really know the situation now, mostly just the history and theory, but they’re going to be spread thin with so much to do. I’ve seen how tired and frustrated you and she are…” And once again word vomit had caught him unawares, his sentences moving more quickly than need be, with more excitement, seriousness, laced with fear and a deep understanding than he’d planned.

He took a deep breath and watched the other boy, he was putting a great deal of trust into the prefect before him. He already knew that at least the rumor about the forbidden forest was true, or close to true. He’d been listening more closely to the rumors now, dead students, the headmistress being more than she seemed. He was ready for anything, and what was even better, he had more resources at his disposal, should he need them, than most would expect. He was determined to help, and he couldn’t help thinking that the best way, was to be up front about it. He was hoping that, if he could help, then maybe D’rorah lack of appearance wouldn’t bother him as much. It was always easier to deal with something when you knew what was going on, or at least, that was his theory.

[Dylan Cooper]

His eyes on Cavan as he pulled a chair closer and sat himself in it, he waited on a response. He didn’t bother to wonder what it might be, because it could be any number of things and guessing would get him nowhere, not to mention that it was pointless when the nature of Weiss’ question was about to be revealed anyway. Regarding the boy with solemn eyes, the Hufflepuff began to speak.

Unconsciously licking his lips once more, he wasn’t aware of the light fiddling of his fingers or the small bouncing of his raised leg. After a while, he realised exactly what he was doing and the bouncing stopped; the fiddling did not. His nimble digits intertwined and played about each other, the middle fingers on each hand predominant in the action. Listening all the while, intently listening to every word Cavan was saying, he was slightly confused about exactly what it was the boy wanted from him. Perhaps he was missing the point altogether; perhaps one wasn’t being clearly made. Whatever it was, he remained confused as ever, not having any answers.

Gathering, after a while, that he probably just wanted to help them; them in this case being the lightfighters, he ran over Weiss’ words and his own opinions in his head, wondering. As he made a quiet note on the state of both him and his girlfriend, he raised his eyes to view the boy once more. As unprepared as he had been for that particular admonition, it shouldn’t really have surprised him; it was true. He knew the same was true for D’rorah as well, though perhaps the two had slightly different reasons for such states of being.

He hadn’t heard Cavan talk more than two words before tonight, and now he was running his words like tap water. His tone made Dylan, if possible, warier than ever, and he tread carefully. As he trailed off, the Ravenclaw thought for a moment or two about the information he’d just received. “You want to help?” he questioned simply, not in the mood to play games or dance around what he meant. Quite honestly, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to deal with any such thing at the moment, and the quiet-spoken query was almost directed toward himself. “I know you’ve been helping her with researching… Anything in particular or are you just translating the texts and making notes?”

The word ‘scribe’ had caught his attention, but for the moment he let it be. “Alright…” he mused, speaking once more. “I’ll answer any questions you have to the best of my abilities, Cavan, because I know D’rorah trusts you and that’s good enough for me.” It might have been foolish; he almost knew it was, but he did trust the young Hufflepuff, so did Dee, and he obviously needed help with something, or else he would not have sought out someone who was practically a stranger to him.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

Cavan found himself blushing slightly at the flow of words he’d flung at Mr. Cooper, he leaned a cheek against the side of his leg, continuing to hold in against his chest as he listened. A glimpse at the older’s boys face and he could tell that he’d utterly confused the boy. Had he even really asked anything? He sighed to himself and finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t very clear a moment ago. I’ve been out of sorts of late, and everything came out all at once. Yes, I wish to help in any way I can, even if it’s just helping with homework for whatever warriors and masters are having trouble keeping up with their school work and everything else they happen to be dealing with.

I hadn’t been asked by D’rorah to assist her with her translations, but she was teaching me, or rather supervising my learning of several dead languages. I’m still working on learning the entire codex, which will probably take me about a month. If the texts and notes are still lying about, I could start translating where she’s stopped and take notes like I’ve seen her doing.

My only real question, other than the obvious, can I help, is this. I want to know how bad it is. I know the history, I know how bad it could get, but I want to know how bad it is now. I want to know how I can protect myself and those people who are as of yet completely unawares. Are there any spells that actually work other than the patronus or is that the only one.”

After reading the notes, he’d understood better, though not completely, why the older boy had been so upset in charms class. Having trouble with something that effected the shadows was not a good thing, and if Mr. Cooper was as involved as D’rorah, and he was almost positive that he was, then it was even more important for him to succeed with the spell. He waited, hoping that now that his voice had calmed and his words were more slow and deliberate, he wouldn’t sound like some eager, naïve child who didn’t truly understand the severity of the situation.

[Dylan Cooper]

Waving away, figuratively speaking of course, Cavan’s apology, he took in what the boy was saying. Helping with homework might seem a little thing, but it would actually help a lot; for him anyway, but he supposed that the other fifth years in their little group were having masses of work piled upon them too, given the O.W.L’s were approaching. The seventh years perhaps… though mostly the work for them was revision at this point, given the class groupings that included several years.

Thinking about it for a moment, he found himself actually slightly impressed by the work Weiss was putting in for their benefit. Though, of course, it was for the benefit of all of them, and as dramatic as it sounded, the world. As he mentioned the words ‘where she’s stopped’, Dylan raised his head sharply. “What do you mean, she’s stopped?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing in wary curiosity. That didn’t sound like D’rorah at all; she put sleep and even food aside in order to continue her research, why would she just stop? He had to have been mistaken.

Disregarding it before he got worked up, his eyes were slightly less complacent now. It was a minor change, but internally it marked a lot. They averted from Cavan to the floor beneath his chair when he asked what, to Dylan’s reckoning, had been on his mind when he’d made the decision to seek him out. “How bad it is…” he mused, almost to himself. Raising his eyes to assess the boy before him once more, he thought to nod but kept himself from it, and continued.

“As it is, at this point, people are disappearing regularly; sometimes showing up, tortured and confused, sometimes not returning at all,” he said quietly, his eyes attempting to look in Cavan’s own. If he was going to ask such a question, it was important that he get the correct answer. Not stopping to so much as sigh, he looked piercingly at the younger student. “Even some of the lightfighters…” he expanded in a quiet voice. “To protect yourself… You only really have any kind of chance against weak shadows. Wraiths are too advanced for wand work, and so are powerful shadows. But against the weaker ones, all you can do is produce the most powerful patronus you can and run to safety,” he explained. “You’re only a first year, and while I know you’re intelligent, that doesn’t really matter in this scenario. Unless you have the abilities that the Shadow Warriors do, you have no chance of defeating or even harming these things. Work on your patronus like there’s no tomorrow, because it might give you that one chance to get away,” he advised, knowing just how useful a truly powerful one could be.

“However… There are other ways to protect yourself. Not everything on the side of the Mage is a creature… Do not trust anyone, Mister Weiss,” he said, lapsing into the formal type of address he so often heard from D’rorah. “Even your friends might not be so; the only person you can really trust is yourself.” He quite deliberately left out the lightfighters because he knew not all of them could be trusted. Wondering if he would understand… if he could understand, he thought it was best to be safe. “Even some of the lightfighters are not to be trusted, and certainly don’t trust anyone just because they’re an Elemental Master or Shadow Warrior. Do you know how I acquired this scar, Cavan?” he asked lightly, touching one finger to his scarred cheek.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

Cavan saw the immediate change in Mr. Cooper as he misunderstood his wording. He was quick to respond to the obvious worry of the other boy, “I didn’t mean I knew she’d stopped, or really anything. I just meant, well, you said yourself that even lightfighters have disappeared. I’ve been worried since D’rorah didn’t contact me the next day, but I don’t jump to conclusions easily, which is why I am only now coming to you. If she’s just busy with research, I’m sure she’ll ask me to help when she thinks I’m ready, but if she’s gone missing, there is a possibility that her work wasn’t taken with her. That is what I meant.” He frowned at the thought of D’rorah being taken to that horrible place, something inside him knew that part of the reason she knew it was real was because she’d been taken there before. He hoped that his worries were unfounded.

He watched as the older boy’s eyes became slightly less complacent before they averted from him to the floor beneath his chair. He sighed inwardly as Mr. Cooper mused to himself, barely audible across the small space that separated them. He gave the other boy a small smile, much less cheerful, almost a sullen smile, if that were possible when he finally raised his eyes to him again. Everything he was told, he’d already assumed, what with so many teachers coming and going, so few students enrolled the rumor of several deaths of both. He was actually a bit surprised that the older boy seemed to think that the lightfighters should be able to escape the shadows. He knew from his dreams that no one person no matter what, could withstand those creatures alone.

He returned the gaze as it was given to him, trying to understand, not so much what was going on now, but to how this other boy was feeling, how he was thinking, so he could assess the situation more clearly. “I honestly refuse to believe that the patronus is the only spell that will work, or that no one has a chance against these wraiths unless they’re lucky enough to be a Shadow warrior, maybe. I’ll ask my parents to research spells that work like the patronus spell, but more powerful. I image there are tons of spells that can at least keep them at bay, they’re probably just really unorthodox.”

He listened quietly as he was told that he couldn’t trust anyone really. He knew what was meant, but he really had no worry about being fooled. He could feel the shadows when they were near, he’d always had an incredible sense when it came to people. But he knew he should be extra careful, just to be on the safe side. He listened, understanding that at least one if not more of the lightfighters had chosen then wrong side and the wrong realm to fight for. He frowned slightly, thinking of how wasteful and greedy a person must be to be tricked into helping destroy the world. Then came a question he’d been expecting, but hadn’t been expecting, he of course knew the answer before the question was fully out of Mr. Cooper’s mouth. He paused, his frown growing for a moment as he spoke, a completely serious tone, with no question at all in the words. “Someone you trusted, when your guard was down.” That much at least was easy to read from the surface, the story behind it was the older boy’s to tell, should he want to.

[Dylan Cooper]

Attempting to calm himself down after his irrational little outburst, he felt something that seemed surprisingly like shame creep through him, but his sudden worry for D’rorah overcame all of that. “If she’s gone missing…” he repeated in a slightly dead voice, his eyes becoming lost as his mind ran over a series of decidedly disturbing scenarios. Seeing once more the images Keaira had projected toward him in that deserted classroom so long ago, he saw a weakened and bloodied D’rorah slumping through the Hospital Wing doors and shuddered openly, unable to contain it.

No. She was alright… She was just busy, surely. She was a capable witch and she knew very well how to protect herself. He couldn’t help, however, the knowledge that she could not overcome anything seeping through his resentful mind. Turning his thoughts away from it and back to the present moment, his jaw tensed as he looked back to Cavan, his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. “If she is not working on her translations for any reason, the texts she uses should be up in her dorm room,” he said, sure of it and easily finding his way around the stairs that automatically turned into a slide soon after a male touched them.

At the Hufflepuff’s confirmation that he did not believe the patronus to be the only spell available to anyone not a Shadow Warrior. “The patronus works because it is solid light… it cannot be defeated but for the will of the caster themselves failing. It will rid someone of Death Eaters, Shadows and Wraiths if you’re incredibly lucky, but you’re failing to understand that these things in the forest… The Shadows and the Wraiths, and worse, are not affected by wand magic aside from the patronus. They simply aren’t. They aren’t the same as a dark wizard or witch… they are something else entirely, and nothing but the most powerful of patronuses can even come close to repelling them. No-one should need to have a chance, no-one else should be fighting this war, Mister Weiss. Your aid… Your aid can only be in research, scribe work, and helping to fight against other dark wizards or weaker beings that follow the Mage. The Shadows and Wraiths are only to be encountered by the Shadow Warriors and Elemental Masters, because no-one else stands a chance.” He didn’t know how long it would take for Cavan to accept it, but that was the way things were. He would do what he could to convince him, because he simply didn’t want the boy to run headlong into something from which he could not escape.

As Cavan responded to his final question, his eyes lowered. “I didn’t trust them at all. I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and yes, I let my guard down; I stopped paying attention. It was not who I did or did not trust. Allies of the Mage are everywhere; in your classes, eating beside you in the Great Hall. They are everywhere, and if you let your guard down at the wrong time you might have to pay for that.” With a small voice and a distant look in his eyes, he continued. “I was alone in a hallway… out after curfew, and I didn’t bother to protect myself at all because I wasn’t in the condition… All in about the space of one minute, I was put under the Imperius Curse and marched into a room in which I could not be heard or seen by anyone other than my captor, and I was tortured for nearly half an hour. In my own school, in a corridor I’ve travelled down hundreds of times throughout my stretch of education at Hogwarts.” He didn’t enjoy expressing these things at all… But Cavan needed to see, needed to realise, and he would do whatever it took to make him see that.

[Cavan Mikal Weiss]

(I got confused, let me know if they're on the move now and I'll fix it...)

Cavan felt bad, making this boy worry about D'rorah, he hoped that both their worrying was completely unfounded. He nodded as Mr. Cooper told him exactly what he'd suspected, if she didn't have the notes and texts, they'd be in her dorm room. He wondered if the older boy had a secret way to get up there, or he knew someone well enough to trust them, except that he'd just finished saying to trust no one.

He was told that the patronus works simply because it is solid light, that it cannot be defeated unless the caster's will weakens. It works against the Dementors, Shadows and Wraiths because they were the exact opposite for solid light. So if he could figure out how exactly the patronus charm worked, then he would be able to figure out a way to make it more powerful against the stronger creatures that didn't leave the caster exhausted and drained. He listened to everything that was said, taking it all in, half his mind already working on using the information to better the Yin side's chances.

He was right of course, no-one should need to have a chance, no-one else should be fighting this war, but if something happened, those people who don't stand a chance had a right to at least try to protect themselves, even if they failed. He understood, maybe better than Mr. Cooper that sometimes there is no place to run, sometimes there is no hope, and knowing even a patronus charm could help gain an opening to run. He had no problem with the idea of only aiding in research, scribe work, and helping to fight against other dark wizards or weaker beings. He knew he was probably just one of many people who didn't stand a chance, which was all the more reason to find a way to at least stay alive in those circumstances.

Then Mr. Cooper's voice seemed to change slightly, it seemed to get more serious and at the same time just a little softer, it was very personal. He listened just as intently now, even pausing his other thought process to take what was being said with out mental interruption. He was shocked to say the least as he was told that Mr. Cooper had been attacked in Hogwarts, walking down a hallway. Sure it had been after curfew, when one should remember to be extra careful to begin with, but maybe as a Prefect it was harder to remember, since they wouldn't be in trouble for patrolling the halls.

Through all this he sat in silence, first too busy thinking of new ideas, then to shocked by the idea of people being attacked in this school, this castle that he'd quickly become so comfortable in, his second home. He was even more intent on making sure he was in his dorm, doors extra locked by curfew each night. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to imagine how horrible it must have been for Mr. Cooper. Then trying to decide which defense books he'd be checking out of the library the next day to perfect all the spells he knew and learn more.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, he managed to find his voice, "That's why you're having trouble in classes." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and Cavan looked at the older boy with new respect, everything falling into place in that moment for more than one thing. "I meant it, I'll help with homework too." He offered his services again, in a more serious tone, one that almost didn't leave room for refusal.

[Dylan Cooper]

((No, no, it’s alright, I didn’t intend for them to be on the move at all))

Wondering at the significant lack of words in the form of a response from the boy, he supposed it shouldn’t surprise him much given the usually quiet nature in which he observed the Hufflepuff. After sitting in silence for some time, since he had nothing left to really say and Cavan seemed lost in his own thoughts, the other boy finally spoke once more. This time there were no more questions, and Dylan wondered if he’d had any more and was withholding them or if he’d simply run out for the time being.

Considering the tone, the factual voice with which he stated it, he supposed that his abysmal performances in classes were quite obvious to any who weren’t too absorbed in their own work. Causing a glass vial to explode over his hand and transfiguring brooms into ropes instead of snakes was hardly unnoticeable, he supposed. “Yes,” he replied simply, confirming Cavan’s statement.

As the younger student offered his services for homework once more, Dylan’s own pride seemed to block the most sensible statement from his tongue. Of course, it would leave much more room for training and preparing himself for the battle ahead, but it just felt so wrong to allow someone else to do his work for him. No matter how long it took him to complete each piece, no matter how far behind he was, he tried to delude himself that perhaps writing an essay about exactly where he’d gone wrong in transfiguration or why Inferi were so dangerous might be useful, they really weren’t; not in the long run.

He couldn’t be absorbed in school work simply because he was too proud to accept the willing aid of someone else; here was the perfect chance to exclude himself from the monotonous task of completing homework that was currently quite clearly above his level of performance, and he was considering refusing it. At what seemed to him an uncharacteristic tone of seriousness and finality that had come with the comment, however, he found himself swayed with both that and the idea of losing someone close to him simply because he’d been working on a potion of shrinking when he could have been training for something more important. “Thank you,” he said simply, giving it as both a sign of thanks and an acceptance of his offer.