RISE UP

Isabella thought about it a moment. “I think that part is still kind of a mystery. I mean we know that only certain trees can be used, but it’s even a small number of that specific type of tree.” They knew it worked but she wasn’t sure anyone knew for sure other than well educated guesses. “I would imagine some of the magic comes from the creature the core comes from and then combined with wood from those specific trees…” She shrugged. “I mean, where to people get their magical powers from? Someone had to be the first.”

Isabella frowned but she was sure he spoke the truth. Competition didn’t always bring out the best in everyone. “And that’s why you’re the Champion I would wager.” She told him. “It’s very noble and brave. With a touch of stupidity of course but I think you need that in the recipe for a Champion too.”

Sasha listened to her try and explain, and while he was still confused, he nodded at her reasoning. “I think that makes sense. Sort of.” He wasn’t sure what it was about all this talk of wood and cores that appealed to her but he wasn’t the type to question a person’s interests if they weren’t hurting anyone.

He went a bit red at her comments about why he was champion and shook his head. “Aw, come on. You’re too kind,” he said, smiling at her. He bit back a laugh, leaning a bit closer to her to faux-whisper. “It’s a lot more than a touch. I have stupidity in spades.”

“Most people don’t make sense to themselves either,” she told him with a nod. There were certainly days she did things that surprised even herself. “Yeah, it’s always been so fascinating to me. I mean how amazing is it the bond between witches, wizards and their wands?” Isabella knew most people didn’t think about it that much but it was something that was different for everyone and you never got quite the same results with another wand. “I am pretty lucky, you can say I’ve always known what I was meant to do with my life.”

Isabella shrugged. “I try to look at it like we’re all on the same team at the end of the day.” Wasn’t that supposedly why they did this Tournament? To foster relationships. It was a little naive, but she liked that view better. “Don’t get me wrong, I still want my team to win of course… I don’t want it to be at the cost of someone else’s health though. I don’t know how you did it though. I could never.”

He grinned. She seemed so enthusiastic about it. It was kind of nice to see. He had no idea what he was going to do after school, personally. He tended to take life day by day, minute by minute, focusing on what he needed to do in the moment over the big picture. “I don’t even understand it...what makes wands act the way they do? Like the - the - the awareness?” He wasn’t sure if that was the right word but he was going with it. “If I tied a unicorn hair to a stick it wouldn’t suddenly do anything so what males wands any different?” He asked her, curiously.

He laughed. “That’s what it’s meant to be on paper but between you and me, I think some of the other champions would kill their own teammates if it meant they’d end up on top,” he said, honestly. He stared down at his bed, a little bashful. “Mostly just entered because I didn’t want anyone else at my school to get caught up in all this and die, if we’re being honest. The fact that I got picked surprised me too, believe me.”

He felt a small surge of triumph at the other boy’s clear disgust as Icarus struggled under his grip, trying to get a foot under him in an attempt to throw Alexander off. He could distantly hear the shrill voice of the Hogwarts Headmistress trying to make it through the crowd to them, but that worry was at the back of his mind at the moment. His eyes darted back and forth from the boy in front of him to Rosaline, all the while fear and guilt flooding him, taking the place of his adrenaline, causing him to be painfully aware of of the aching pain in his jaw and torso. “She can feel it.” He got out through gritted teeth, propping himself up on one elbow, suppressing a grunt at the pain in his chest and back. “The bond. She can feel it.” Icarus wasn’t sure if Alex knew anything about said bond but hoped regardless he’d have enough sense to stop.

Alexander furrowed his brow, his grip still tight on Icarus as he processed what the other male was saying. He didn’t know what exactly he meant by ‘the bond’ but his other words combined with the look on Rosaline’s face was enough for his grip to loosen slightly. “Why would you start a fight knowing it would hurt her?” He demanded, incredulously, guilt flooding him. He hadn’t been pulling his punches, not even close. The idea of Rosaline feeling that....it made him feel sick to his stomach. Before he could do any more, a hand grabbed at the collar of his school uniform and yanked him up sharply, and he winced when he was met with the furious face of the Hogwarts headmistress. She’d somehow managed to make it through the crowd with another professor, who had pulled Icarus up too. Alexander ignored the yelling about detentions and consequences, and sought out Rosaline’s face instead, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to her once he’d caught her eyes.

“I don’t know if her family knows the true extent of it,” she admitted. “I mean you know how some people feel about their traditions or whatever. I think she’s afraid it’ll be seen as a failure on her part somehow. I don’t know..” The things people often did surprised her and she didn’t even try to understand sometimes. “Who knows, but hey, plus side as I tell her, she can be my first customer some day. I’d love to see her find a match with a maple wand.”

“You’re welcome,” she told him with a smile. “I like to help and support our Champions.” There wasn’t really much she could do in that aspect other than fetch things they needed. “I really do hope you feel better soon. It looked horrible in there.”

The longer Alexander lived, the more he realized how stupid most traditions were. Forcing people to use wands that hurt them, or marry people they really did not want to be with, all in the name of family honour or propriety? It was absurd. For all their differences, he knew Aunt Yuliya at least had his best interests at heart when she made decisions for him. It was sad that he didn’t think many people could say the same. “People don’t make sense to me,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you interested in wandmaking?”

He smiled at her. Champion. It was still strange to hear himself referred to like that. In his head he was still just plain old Sasha. “That’s nice of you seeing as I’m not even part of your team,” he said, genuinely. He shot her a reassuring smile. “It was but...we’re all going to live. I can’t ask for more than that.”

He had wanted to hit Alexander for years, enduring everyday living around him since they were young. They had never gotten around to learning to be civil with one another and the events that had transpired the last few months had only heightened their hatred. Icarus grunted as pain shot through his torso and jaw. He was left winded by the other’s blow, gasping a moment for air. It seemed to only to sharpen his vision, give him more motive to sink fists into any part of the other he could reach. “Maybe not, but breaking your fucking jaw will make me feel better.” He got out through clenched teeth before the other’s fist connected with his face, causing blood to flood is mouth. He subsequently spat it in Alexander’s face. Icarus was moving to dodge any other blows when out of the corner of his eye he saw Rosaline, doubled over a bit, hand to her face and he suddenly remembered their bond. She could feel it. “STop!” He choked out, hands moving to push the other from him. 

He grimaced as Icarus’s fist connected with his face again. The adrenaline was there, but the longer their fight went on, the more the pain started to permeate the haze of the rush. He pressed his lips tightly together, fighting the urge to gag as he was hit with the other male’s blood, and he hastily, wiped at his face with his sleeve, trying to get the copper-y liquid off his mouth and eyelids, feeling angry all over again. He grimaced, shoving his knee down to keep the other boy pinned, before his words fully penetrated his brain and his fist paused momentarily, inches away from colliding with his face again. Stop? Why? This was only the culmination of months and months of tension finally boiling over. “Why would you --?” He spat out, voice ragged and kind of nasally from the blood still seeping steadily from his face. His nose was probably broken, he realized dimly. Before he could question the boy further, he looked up, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, and he caught sight of Rosaline, staring at them with a pinched look on her face as if she’d just been in pain. He looked at her and then back down at Icarus. “I don’t --?”

“Nor does it change the fact that she may think said dementor is more worthy then say…. an idiotic ghoul with bright red hair.” Again, Icarus smiled politely. He found silently agreeing with the other. Rosaline was too good for him. Icarus was more than fully aware that she deserved someone better. Someone who didn’t have to be emotionally rehabilitated. Someone who wasn’t knee deep in beginning the next Wizarding War. But none of that mattered. They were bound, they were married, and the only thing that could change that was the death of one of them. He watched amused, as the other’s goblet shattered, causing a large pocket of people around them to turn their heads in their direction, including Rosaline, who had turned full around. Their eye contact had distracted him, eyes trained on her when the other’s words reached his ears. He didn’t even think, he swept an arm across the table, knocking dishes out of his way before climbing atop it and kicking the other square in the face watching him fall to the floor before jumping down after him, knees on either side of his torso, grabbing the other by the collar and landing a forceful punch to his jaw, fueled by all the rage he kept in for the duration of the conversation, fueled by all the jealousy and longtime hatred he felt for Alexander.

Interestingly, the other’s jab at him didn’t make Icarus flare with anger but instead it made his eyebrows raise slightly, smirk growing a bit. “Ah, I guess she hasn’t told you everything, has she?” He tilted his head slightly to one side. Of course she hadn’t, why would she delved into their past? As he continued to speak, Icarus’ eyebrows only seemed to raise higher, smirk turning more. “I see. You think she hates me? You and I both know she isn’t capable of hate. She finds the good in everything.” Icarus’ eyes narrowed a bit. “Besides, I haven’t taken her against her will, so Stockholm Syndrome wouldn’t apply.” He raised a finger, placing an elbow on the table. “Quick question, do they teach squibs to read on farms or are you just particularly stupid?” He adopted the facial expression of someone with a simple, polite inquiry, lacing his fingers and placing his chin atop them. 

Alexander's mouth twisted, but he shook his head. He didn’t need to know everything. He knew Icarus, and Icarus was a jerk. “I never said she hated you. I just said she doesn’t like you. It’s different. Just because she could see the good in a dementor doesn’t change the nature of them. Like I said before, she’s too good for you, even if she tries her hardest to see something worthwhile in you that doesn’t exist.” He was about to pick up his goblet and take a drink, but then Icarus’s next words made the rage flare up within him so strongly the goblet shattered, sending shards of glass across the table as Alex dug his fingers into the table to keep himself from throwing himself across the table to strangle the other male. “We both know I’m not a squib, Dolohov, and you can call me stupid all you want but it won’t change the fact that your wife is in my bed most nights, not yours.”

Icarus’ clenched fists were pressed firmly to the bench on either side of him, his fingernails digging half crescents into his palms. He was acutely aware of the students packed into the Hall around them, of the professors in a row at the front, gazing looking down upon them all. The other was right of course. Icarus had no right to be upset, that Rosaline was her own person, was allowed to do as she pleased, but that fact didn’t stop the hot burn of jealousy across his chest anytime the two of them were together. And it certainly didn’t stop him wanting to connect his fist with the other’s face. Instead, he adopted a strained smile on his face. “We’ll see how long that lasts. You’ve known her for five months, I’ve known her for twelve years. Don’t go getting too confident, now.” He again gave him an unimpressed once over. “You have no reason for it.”  Icarus’ eyes narrowed yet again as Alexander spoke. He leaned in a bit. “I don’t need to be told that by the likes of you. Believe it or not, I have no intention of harming her.”

Alexander couldn’t help the smile that flickered across his face and he shrugged, returning to his meal, aiming for nonchalant as he spoke. “I don’t know why you think that’s going to bother me. I’d be embarrassed if I were you, seeing as you’ve known her for 12 years and she still can’t stand you,” he said lightly. He didn’t feel like he even had to bother to mention the fact that it was his bed she sometimes snuck into and not the other boy’s. He was certain the fact was already bothering Icarus enough that he didn’t feel the need to rub it in. “It’s been so long now that if she changed her mind I’d be worried you’d Imperiused her...or she had Stuckhold syndrome or something.” He looked back up at Icarus, and met his eyes, not even blinking as their gazes locked. “I don’t. Believe you, I mean. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for her sake, not yours. I can be cordial, if I have to.”

The other’s reaction made Icarus’ grin widen a bit, feeling some triumph that his words had struck some chord with the other. “Nothing worthwhile has to come out of my mouth for me to use it properly if you know what I mean.” He tilted his head slightly. “Not that you would.” He leaned forward a bit, stage whispering in a patronizing way. Icarus’ gaze shifted a moment a few tables behind them, landing on the back of Rosaline’s head, eyed darkening as they flicked back to Alexander. “Or perhaps you do.” Icarus took a deep breath, willing himself not to draw his wand, or break the other male’s nose. Merlin knew he’s wanted nothing more for the past few years. The urge only strengthening in the past months as Icarus’ wife had clung to him. He scoffed, sitting back a bit. “She has to live the rest of her life with me whether she or I or you like it or not. Spirit doesn’t matter. As far as everyone else is concerned she is a Dolohov.” His voice got lower now. “And if we go down, if I do, so does she. You can’t separate us anymore. It’s a package deal these days, so If I were you, I’d stop blabbing about things you know jack shit about .” 

Alexander couldn’t help but look back to see what had caught Icarus’s attention, smiling when he caught sight of Rosaline’s familiar head of hair. He turned back to the other boy, and shrugged. “It’s not like you’ve got room to talk. Your neck looks like you lost a fight with a vampire. Besides, it’s not my fault Rosaline would rather be in my arms than yours,” he said, shooting Icarus an overly sunny smile out of sheer spite, knowing that he would be hitting a sore spot. He tightened his grip on his fork, trying to fight the urge to stick it into Icarus’s eye. He was right, as much as it pained Alexander to admit it, even internally. To the world around them, Rosaline was a Dolohov now, with all the baggage that entailed. Instead he narrowed his eyes. “Well then you better make all the right moves, Dolohov, because we both know she’s too good for you, and if you hurt her I will bury your body somewhere that neither she, nor your absolutely despicable parents will ever find it.”

Icarus kept his gaze steadily on the boy before him, swatting one hand to casually knock the plate to the side, causing the person next to him to jump slightly. “No thanks, I don’t accept food from squibs who spend their free time around farm animals. Could catch a disease.” The shit-eating-grin was still stretching his face, as he tilted his head to one side. “And we can’t have that with all the people I have to entertain.” His gaze shifted around them for a moment, his ring tapping stopping abruptly, his gaze flashing red. He stared at Alexander for a long moment, considering two extremes. His immedient desire was to hex the boy directly in the chest, but he wasn’t sure that would go over too well in such a public place. His hands tightened into fists. knuckles turning white. “Are you accusing me and my family of something, Petrov. A family that includes your ‘friend’?” He said in a low voice, an eyebrow raised, fingers air quoting around the word ‘friend’, a clear insinuation.

Alexander’s fingers tightened around his cutlery, his knuckles turning white. Usually he could ignore the squib insults, but from Icarus they made him furious, especially knowing full well that they were both aware that he was nothing of the sort. His mouth curled, but he kept his voice steady when he answered. “I don’t need to sabotage your chances of entertaining. You do that well enough on your own every time you open your mouth and everyone realizes nothing worthwhile ever comes out of it.” When Icarus’s hand froze, not moving, Alexander tilted his head up to meet his eyes, daring him to try something. He couldn’t help it, part of him wished Icarus would so that he’d have a reason to rip into him with magic or with his fists, he didn’t particularly care which method he used. He leaned forward slightly, raising an eyebrow. “What if I am? What exactly are you going to do about it? And it doesn't matter how old the ring on her finger is, or what her last name is, Rosaline will never be one of you. Not in spirit.”

Icarus couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the other, expression becoming cold as he saw who spoke to him. “In my way as usual, Alexander.” He adopted a sickly smile that in no way reached his eyes. Despite being able to keep expression mostly under control, he had begun tapping his ring, annoyed, against the table, the sound muffled slightly by a newspaper. Though the conversation had a different topic entirely, Icarus couldn’t help but think about the recent incident in the hospital wing. The thought made his eyes narrow farther. “A lot of people’ does not translate to ‘me’, now does it? I have no obligation to be sensitive to random people’s feelings.” He licked his lips, ring tapping  a bit faster. “Wouldn’t that just be a tragedy.”

Alexander rolled his eyes, going back to poking at his food, irritation flaring in his chest. He bit into his chicken to keep himself from saying something vulgar, despite how much he wanted to, knowing there were first and second year Hogwarts students seated at their table too. Once he’d swallowed, he instead pushed a plate of desserts over to Icarus. “You should have a lemon tart,” he said, evenly. “They’re bitter, just like you.” The tapping of the other male’s ring against the table was starting to get on his nerves, and it took everything in him not to reach out and force him to keep his hands still. Instead he shrugged, looking down. “Well I suppose she’s lucky in a way. At least now she doesn’t have to watch your family take her sister hostage.”

Alexander Petrov ↳ Family as of January 1st 2024

Father: Mikhail Nikolaevich Petrov (deceased), 32, wizard Edward Norton

Mother: Yelena Ivanovna Petrova (deceased), 29, witch Amy Adams

Maternal Aunt: Yuliya Ivanovna Rozovskaya, 34, squib Rachel McAdams

Muse: Alexander “Sasha” Mikhailovich Petrov, 17, wizard Alex Saxon

Maternal cousin: Dmitry “Mitya” Pavlovich Maslak, 12, muggle Jacob Tremblay

Brother: Nikita “Nika” Mikhailovich Petrov, 13, wizard Noah Jupe