February 17th, 1895 — Dueling Club Classroom, Early Evening

"Incendio! No! Incendio, Stupefy! Oh, blessed - grr!" Anne's snarl of frustration was animalistic, her patience non-existent, her temper hot, and her frustration peaking. Sweat soaked her hairline, her sleeves shoved to her elbows; Anne sucked in deep breaths, her hands clasped over her head as she paced the dueling hall. She glared at the test dummy across the way, the damned thing mocking her.

She'd picked one of the NEWT dummies that was charmed to shield when attacked, trying to work on her speed. Anne didn't question the strength of her spells, and, until the dueling final, she hadn't questioned her speed. Anne was one of the fastest in the dueling club, but she lost the title to one of the few people who proved faster. The loss hurt more than any spell could. It also presented a problem: what sort of auror could she be if she wasn't faster than her opponent? It sounded like a quick recipe for death or failure; neither interested Anne.

Her body ached, her muscles reminding her that she had been here every night for the past twelve days. The cramp in her shoulder also reminded her she'd had multiple quidditch practices since then and took a bludger in the last one. The first few nights had been easy and she quickly moved from the OWL dummy to the NEWT dummy, but here she'd ground to a halt. She could beat the dummy and get around its shields, but not consistently or how she wanted. It made her need this more.

When her next spell rebounded off the dummy's shield, Anne punched the air with a snarl. "What am I doing wrong?" She demanded of the lifeless training aid glaring back.

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Gus Lissington

  

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

Gus had watched every duel, although he hadn’t been front and center in case a spell backfired and hit the crowd. It didn’t matter to him who won or lost—he was proud of all of his students for having the gall to enter the competition in the first place. What did matter was having a starting point for what each of them needed to improve on, or at least those who were a part of the dueling club.

He’d been on his way to set up the dummies for the club to have an impromptu meeting later when he heard the frustrations from the hallway and couldn’t help but peer in to see what the commotion was about. Gus leaned against the door frame of the dueling classroom, his arms loosely crossed his chest as he silently watched Ms. Moony battle against the dummy. Gus could point out a few different things that might help improve her spells, but she seemed far too in the moment to interrupt; he didn’t want her to accidentally fire the spell at him, even if he wasn’t worried about not being able to deflect it.

When there was a pause, Gus cleared his throat to gain her attention. “For starters,” he said, pushing off the frame to enter the room, “You’re getting inside your own head. Nothing kills speed like frustration. Your movements get sloppy when you get frustrated.” He tipped his head at her, one brow arching. While he wasn’t sure she wanted his advice, Gus was going to give it anyway.

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Anne Moony

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   Anne Moony

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Anne whirled at the interruption to her thoughts. Aurors also didn't get ambushed. Bloody good work, Anne. When she slowed her breathing and could see past her own rage, Anne recognized Professor Lissington and quickly chose not to voice the first words that came to her startled brain. This was bloody embarrassing.

Anne might have ground her teeth loud enough to be audible, but she kept her mouth shut all the same. The last thing she needed was someone witnessing her mistakes; she also needed help. Reluctantly, Anne shook out her shoulders, her firm nod the first indication she was listening. Squaring off with the dummy, Anne tried again.

"Stupefy! Stupefy, Incendio!" The first stunning spell went wide, but Anne's rebound was quick enough to beat the second shield, the dummy engulfed in satisfying flames. She watched, feeling almost vindicated, as the dummy smothered itself and stood ready for another onslaught. Turning her attention back to Professor Lissington and forcing herself not to slouch in embarrassment, Anne tried, "I have to be good even when I'm frustrated. I'm supposed to be good. Full stop."

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

Gus gave her a subtle nod in return before he watched her fire off a couple more spells. He watched in silence as the flames curled against the dummy and then vanished as it put itself out. “Nice adjustments.” Gus said, tipping his head toward the dummy where there were still some scorch marks steaming faintly across its chest. He smiled then, stepping further into the room, his attention turning back toward her.

“If you weren’t frustrated, I’d be worried. It’d mean you didn’t care enough to want to do better.” Gus didn’t mean it as a jab. It was just the truth, plain and simple, and he could only hope that Miss Moony would appreciate the honesty. He’d taught enough students by now to know the difference between the ones who went through the motions and the ones who actually gave a damn. The ones like the young Slytherin, well, those were the ones who cared, and the ones who cared are the ones that grew.

“People say it like it’s simple, don’t they? ‘Be good. Do good.’” Gus shook his head. “But most of the time, what they actually mean is, be what they need you to be at that moment. It’s a moving target.” He glanced toward the dummy again, at the scorch marks fading on its chest. Then Gus looked back at her.. “So here’s the real question, Miss Moony, what does being good mean to you? Because if you’re chasing someone else’s definition of it, you’ll burn out before you ever get there.”

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Anne tried to accept the praise for what it was, even as her frustration kept track of all of the failures before Professor Lissington arrived. She took in his assessment and managed to mostly agree with him. "I always want to be better," Anne told him honestly. It made her wake up too bloody early every day and go to bed far too late at night. "And I lost at something, I have to be better." Anne's self-loathing burned like acid through her words. She wasn't the sort that did competitions for the fun of it. They were fun because she won. It was that simple.

Anne smirked in agreement. "A lot of people say silly phrases when they're covering up their own laziness. Nobody who has to try says that." It was more honest than she was used to being with professors, but Lissington was one of her favorites. Anne didn't understand how a Hufflepuff became a curse breaker, but she wouldn't doubt his skill. She wasn't that stupid.

She also wasn't ready for his question. Anne's brow furrowed, her lip between her teeth as she pondered. She wanted to be honest without sounding like she cared one bit what her feelings had to say when it slowed her down. "It's my definition with other people informing me, I guess." Anne offered aloud, very unclear how to proceed. Her head of house didn't spend much time considering her motivations, unless it would have served him somehow. It was the Slytherin way. Maybe, sometimes, it was good to be a person instead of a Slytherin.

"Being good used to mean making sure that nobody that mattered got hurt, but that wasn't enough. I can't be everywhere and protect everyone all the time." Anne's rage simmered near the surface at the acknowledgment of her own limitations. "But maybe, being good means I never question my skill in a fight. I can't protect everyone, but if I'm there, I should know I can stop anything. What other point is there, if you aren't fighting to make things better for the people that count?"

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   Gus Lissington

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

Gus tipped his head as he studied her – really studied her. There was something almost surgical about the way she dissected herself, each statement almost sharp enough to draw blood. Gus had seen this kind of drive plenty of times before; it either spurred the person to greatness or made a wreck out of them. Hell, sometimes it was both.

“You’re not wrong.” Gus said as a slight grin tugged at the corner of his lips. He, of course, did not want Miss Moony to burn out before she was able to make something of herself. He enjoyed seeing his students succeed. “But you’re also not entirely right, either. There’s a difference between fighting to win and fighting to improve.” She was chasing perfection that didn’t exist, or at least that's how Gus was seeing it; Miss Moony had the kind of motivation that most people wasted time chasing, and he really didn’t want to see her burn out before she even got comfortable in whatever career she chose for herself.

“You want to be better because you lost. Fair enough. Losing stings like hell, I’ve been there plenty of times.” Whoops, maybe he shouldn’t have used that kind of language, but if the Slytherin wanted a frank conversation then she was certainly going to get it. “You’re right that you can’t be everywhere and protect everyone. No one can. But being good isn’t just about control. It’s about choice. You just have to decide who’s worth bleeding for and make peace with that.” For Gus it was his friends, his family, and after now, his students. There wasn’t a thing in this world that would stop him from protecting any of them.

Stepping forward then, Gus kept on talking. “But tell me, Miss Moony, what happens when you win and it still isn’t enough? When you stop the curse, save the people who matter to you, and yet something still slips through? What do you call yourself then? Still good? Or just… not good enough yet?” He lifted his gaze toward her. “Because if you keep chasing being good, no matter how you define it, you’ll never stop running. I would rather you build something, make yourself the witch I know you can be, than burn out trying to catch the impossible.”

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