Some Dragon Slayer, You Are

[Gilly Gillespie]

After her last great adventure on the Great Lawn, Gilly had taken to spending her free afternoons marinating in the sun and practicing her spells where the excitement was most likely to occur. Her Basic Hexes book was starting to get dog-eared already, and the first year Slytherin was already a dab hand at tripping jinxes, locomotor mortis and something that filled the victim's ears with jelly.

She'd kept her wand away as she read, this time, but if she'd had it out, the boy who was bothering her would've been her latest test subject. He had some sort of prop with him and was waving it around like a jackass, in her humble opinion. Gilly tolerated his poor form and irritating grunts for less than five minutes before she was shoving her book into her tote and forging over to tell him which way the cold wind blew.

"Hey, you!" Gilly shouted at him as she approached- perhaps a bit rudely, but she decided she'd been provoked. "If you're gonna faff about with a stick, could you at least not be such a numpty and put your dang feet in the right position? A stiff breeze'd take you out. You're embarrassing me."​

 

[Oswald Brigham]

Spells and magic were great, and everything, but in Oswald's opinion there was still no better way to while away the afternoon than out on the grounds, swinging a sword around and slaying dragons. OK, so the sword was made of wood, and the dragons only existed in his wild imagination, but they were as good as real to him. He yelped in pain, grabbing his arm as a Hungarian Horntail scorched his robes with a mighty breath of fire. "Take that," he said, in one swift motion jabbing the sword up under its chin. The dragon swayed, and then collapsed to the ground, the earth shattering under its impact. Oswald had just (unceremoniously) removed his sword when suddenly a yell made him reel around.

Who was that? Striding towards him was a girl he vaguely recognised from one of his classes, but whose name he couldn't place. She seemed pretty angry, though he couldn't figure out why. He hadn't been bothering her, had he?

She was quick to correct him.

Oswald stared at the Slytherin, and then smirked. "All right, then," he said, thrusting the sword at her. "If you know so much about swordsmanship, you show me how it's done." This girl being, well, a girl, and everything, Os was pretty confident she wouldn't hold a candle to him. He might not have been a master swordsman, but he'd been slaying imaginary dragons for years. He folded his arms and stepped back, giving her space to show how clever she was.