Feathers and Talons [rufus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Lucas was never particularly given to asking for assistance. He rarely needed it in the first place and lets face it: Lucas was never given to asking for anything in a general sense. During those rare, rare instances when he did find himself in need of others, he always made sure that there was something he could give in return. Always. He'd never really thought about why that was, only that it felt right doing that. Besides, the responsibility of furthering his skill was sorely his. His tutors had made that perfectly clear since his earliest days of apprenticeship. Lucas had seen it as little more than an interesting challenge back then. Now, he found that he could think of little else. What would Lucas be if he were not trying to master some new spell or working on gaining some new ability or knowledge? Was there really anything else he would have liked to spend his time on? Why did these questions unnerve him so? The fifth year chuckled wryly to himself. He was starting to sound like a Ravenclaw. Not that they were an inferior house, but Lucas felt that Irvings belonged only in Slytherin house. True Irvings, anyway. His father proved that much. Rufus was the head of Slytherin house; something that justified his choice of occupation in Lucas' eyes. He couldn't deny that Rufus was a brilliant teacher. It made him just a little jealous that he had chosen to devote his time to teaching other children. The thought was quickly banished from his mind. Thank God he had found someone else to tutor him in legilimency. Thank God Rufus didn't practice legilimency. Lucas wouldn't have known what to do with himself had his father become privy to some of the things he kept in his heart of hearts. In Rufus' defence, it was a standard for the children of wealthy wizarding houses to be educated by hired tutors. He doubted he would have received any more of his father's attention any more than he already did even should Rufus be working as anything other than a professor. And it wasn't as though Rufus never spent quality father-son time with him. Which lead him to yet another puzzling question. Why had Professor Dunesworth refused him of animagi lessons? Well he wasn't denied, per se. To quote, 'As flattered as I am that you have asked for my tutelage, I think it would be more appropriate if Professor Irving were to guide you through the path of being an animagus.' Why on earth would the Head of Transfiguration suggest for the Potions Master to teach him one of the most challenging feats of Transfiguration? Sure, his father was an animagus but Lucas hardly thought it apt. Still, he made his way down towards his father's quarters. He'd sent Athena earlier with a note saying he would visit in the evening. In his arms, he carried a few heavy tomes -books that he'd ordered from various bookshops and had finished reviewing. They would be added to his father's personal library but couldn't be counted as proper 'offerings'. He did place them under his tab. Coming up to the portrait leading to the Slytherin Head's office, he greeted the painting. ''Lucas Irving. I've an appointment with the Professor." He watched as the willowy figure of Lady Gwendaline disappear out the side of the portrait and waited.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Rufus thought of himself, actually, as a rather alright professor. He wasn't the best, he was certain, but he wasn't the worst either, he liked to think. Just the same, he had similar views to his own position as a father. However, it still came to as a surprise -- and by that, he meant a pleasant surprise -- when he saw Athena waiting for him by his desk with a note from Lucas stating that he would like to visit this evening. Admittedly, Rufus didn't spend as much time as he would like with the youth. Not now, and not when Lucas was much younger. It was the British norm, really, for Lucas to grow up the way he did among tutors than family. However, it still posed a question if the norm was the same as the right thing to do. Gauging a child wasn't something that Rufus found particularly hard to accomplish. What other professors found perplexing and impossible, Rufus thought it quite elementary at times. That is to say, it wasn't difficult to guess how a child would feel because he saw them as what they were: human beings with feelings. With Lucas, however, it had always been slightly more... challenging. Perhaps it was because he wasn't the third-party onlooker anymore, and thus, couldn't look at the situation clearly. Thinking in that way, though, felt oddly like he was making excuses. And that was why he couldn't exactly pin-point what Lucas' motive for this evening's meet was. Make no mistake. Rufus would be just as thrilled whether his reason for meeting him was business or casual. Still, one couldn't help but wonder. "Professor," a feminine voice called his attention. "Lucas is at the door." Rufus looked up from the open book set on his palm. "Do let him in, Lady Gwenaline," he said. The lady in the portrait nodded and went around front again. A moment later, the portal swung open, admitting entrance to the person on the other side. "Lucas," he smiled, snapping the leather bound book in his hand closed softly. Letting go of it, the book replaced itself on the self on the far wall. A small grin teased the corners of his mouth. "New additions to my shelf, I see."

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] "Father," Lucas greeted, as soon as he entered the portrait hole. Even without looking at his father's face, he youth could sense the smile in his old man's voice. It was the usual greeting, and yet, it never failed to unseat him. If only a little. The amiable manner in which Rufus addressed others was enough to make anyone lower one's mental defences. However, Lucas Irving wasn't just anyone. He had always found interacting with his father a little more challenging than when he spoke with his other Professors. Perhaps it was because he had to act both the parts of student and son? There was a time when he struggled between the different levels of formalities when it came to treating Rufus. In the end, he decided it best to present himself always as the perfect little gentleman he was taught to be. That was likely why he had come to be so very formal with his father. A tiny grimace flickered but for a moment across his visage at the piles of 'organised mess' in the office. Setting the books down on guest's seat (the only free room as far as he could tell), he promptly undid his eye-patch and pocketed it. Here in the privacy of the potions master's office, there would be no need to conceal his discoloured pupil. Lucas lifted his gaze and met with eyes exactly like his own. "Remulous Lockemoor presented some interesting points that contradict the preparation of the Wolvesbane Potion illustrated in our textbook," he stated whilst indicating the book. "I haven't tested it out yet but I've highlighted them in both the margins and in my own textbook. I hope it's alright." Now this, to most, would sound like Lucas was merely asking if it was alright that he had scribbled in the brand new book written by a known dark wizard. What Lucas had truly meant to say was 'I hope you don't mind that I've purchased, read and scribbled in your new book written by a known dark wizard and will be testing his views. I hope you don't mind, but expect another new bill sometime in the near future.' But of course, Lucas wasn't here for small-talk. Neither would he have deigned to waste his father's time. Lucas took a short pause, as though collecting his thoughts. "Also," another pause. "I'd like to become an animagus. Please teach me." That... That wasn't quite what Lucas had planned to say... originally. At least, he hadn't planned on saying it in such a straightforward manner. But as it was, he was finding it just a tad... challenging to maintain his eloquence when seeking tutelage from the very man he wished to surpass.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] And there it was: the image of the perfect British gentleman. Lucas had never been anything short of that. While he was proud of that, somehow, Rufus thought that their father-son relationship was a touch too formal. And perhaps, he was wishing for both sides of the coin. It left to be debated on whether or not it was possible to attain both. Rufus didn't comment as his son removed the eye patch the youth always wore in public. A normal father, he supposed, would have fretted over Lucas' issue with his inherited trait. While he would have wagered against you on the 'normal' comment, he didn't -- fret, that was. It was an issue that Lucas would resolve by himself in due time. There was nothing about Lucas' outlook that suggested him being the Potions Master's son. All in all, he took after Genevieve. It was a fact that Rufus didn't mind at all, actually. If you asked him, he would definitely say that between the two of them, Genevieve was definitely more beautiful so of course, he had no qualms with their child inheriting her looks. It was ironic, to say the least, that all Lucas inherited from Rufus was scientifically known as a defect and flaw. Not that Rufus had seen his heterochromia as such. Lucas, however, was was his own person. "Remulous?" the older Irving reminisced in some degree of familiarity. While the world commonly knew Lockemoor as one of the most notorious dark wizards of this age for his interests in the research of less than savoury topics, he was a friend and occasional rival to Rufus. After all, with their similar interests in potions, it was bound to have happened. That, and really, all purebloods were inter-related somehow. Remulous was his... erm... seventh cousin, thrice removed... or something like that? No one kept accounts, of course. "That man has always found a sort of sadistic delight in contradictions," he said with a touch of amusement. Needless to say, a lot of those contradictions brought forth no few amounts of intelligent debates between the two. And of course Rufus wasn't ignorant to the semi-hidden meaning behind Lucas' words. "No, I don't mind," he said in reply. For a brief moment, he thought about adding something along the lines of 'I trust your judgement enough that you won't cause the need to look for stonemasons as a result of your experiments' but decided it was far too condescending. He did, after all, trust his son's judgement. He was, though, caught entirely off guard at the request, his surprise betrayed by the raising of an eyebrow. Not just the nature of the request but the way it was being requested. In all his years as a father, he had never heard Lucas approach any subject with such... bluntness. "Animagus?" Rufus echoed. It was... unexpected, to say the least, but at the same time, it was rather... timely. Rufus' surprise was replaced with a smile. It wasn't one of fatherly warmth like usual; it was more of a half-grin of amusement. "I had the idea as well. It was about your age that I learnt it after all, though I had rather thought you would have asked Professor Dunesworth instead." Formalities aside, or rather it was entirely for formal reasons that Lucas would do so, Marcus was the transfiguration teacher. "When would you like to start?"

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Lucas replaced the book back onto the pile. "He does, father. Although I must say, I find his views quite fascinating this time round," Lucas said without the slightest edge in his voice. It was common knowledge that his distant uncle rarely received welcome, let alone commendation, for his 'research'. Lucas found that such individuals were nonetheless necessary for advancing the knowledge of the wizarding world. Not everyone was bold enough to completely question the fundamental effectiveness of a recent breakthrough. After reading his article, Lucas himself thought it strange in retrospect that no one had thought to question the usage of a plant traditionally used to kill wolves in order to subdue werewolves. But then, the wizarding world had not traditionally expressed much love for the lupine half-breeds. It was Lucas' conclusion that Remulous' views occasionally warranted investigation, even if they should always be taken with a hint of salt. He brushed away his mental chiding but took extra care with himself after his little slip of tongue. It had had to be a first and Lucas wasn't about to let it be his un-doing. Granted, he could always approach Professor Dunesworth once more should Rufus refuse to tutor him. The fifth year's fail-safe did not stop him from carefully gauging his father's reaction, however. Perhaps it had been the potions master's choice of words. Maybe it was the tone that sounded somewhat unconvinced. Perhaps it had been the bemused grin that Lucas had found utterly condescending. But the normally calm and collected Lucas Irving could not help but feel himself bristle a little at his father's remark. For a moment, he considered relaying Professor Dunesworth's opinion regarding the matter. But then, Rufus proceeded to asking when he would like to start his Animagi lessons. Lucas took what he felt to be the most practical action: he calmed himself down. "If at all possible," he began the moment he had collected himself, ''tonight." It was short notice, he knew. But as it was, Lucas had already done what he could to become an animagus, short of the actual transformation which, according to the several volumes that he'd read, were best done in the presence of someone who had already mastered the art. Not only would it minimize... complications, studying as an apprentice would half the time it took to master the art. "If it isn't any trouble, father. I'm ready whenever you are." Lucas' eyes were alight with determination.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Rufus wondered how this subject came to spur in Lucas' young mind. It certainly never occurred to Rufus to try to learn to be an Animagus until his professor took the initiative to inquire his interests. And even then, he accepted rather nonchalantly because... well... he didn't really have a reason. It was done more on a whim. But then, Rufus didn't have a father who was an Animagus and he certainly lacked Lucas' drive to surpass himself. He was going to ask Lucas one day if he wanted to try his hand at the art of Animagi. It was just that he thought he might leave it out until next year, after the boy's OWLs. While Rufus didn't particularly see much importance in the fifth year exam as compared to the seventh year ones, he didn't want to overexert Lucas in any way. After all, Rufus only started learning this technique of advanced transfiguration in his sixth year, and even then, he was told that he was one of the youngest to grasp the art. Well... youngest registered one anyways. Leave it, of course, to his own son to break all the records he had set back in his student days. "Rather short notice," Rufus noted, "and you could have mentioned something about it in your note earlier." Briefly, his eyes flickered to a ticking clock on the wall. There was still a good few hours before curfew. Not that a simple note on his behalf wouldn't fix it if it were otherwise. "No matter," he said. "There's no point in delaying a good start." He gave his son a half-smile. "May I assume that you've done the necessary research on the theoretical part of Animagus?" After all, the phrase 'light-reading' wasn't something that did Lucas' hobbies and habits justice. "Though I do often believe that learning how to be an Animagus is rather akin to learning potions. It's more practical than theory." "As a side note, you don't need to rush mastery. It took me the better part of two months." Of course he knew what this would sound like to Lucas: a time-limit. Likely, the boy would endeavor to master animagi in half that time. With a wave of his hand, everything on top of his desk disappeared and the books that Lucas brought in automatically arranged themselves in the empty spaces of the shelf on the far side of the room, nudging the other books so that they would remain alphabetized. He knew his shelf well enough to know which books he hadn't read before. "Two things are important in Animagi: speed and precision," Rufus said, and suddenly, exactly eighty small wooden square blocks lined up on his desk. "I don't doubt that Marcus has done an amiable job at teaching and that you're talented in the subject. To serve as a marker though, try your hand at transfiguring all of these cubes into spheres as fast as you can and all at once."

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] The fifth year kept himself passive while his father commented on the abruptness of Lucas' request. Yes, it was short notice. And yes, he could have mentioned something in that note. But Lucas had always felt that such requests should always be made face to face. He had done so with Professor Dunesworth. His own father deserved no less. Among his tutors, he had known Rufus the longest, albeit it was arguable whether or not the man could be considered his first tutor. Nevertheless, Lucas respected him the most by default. Not only did they share the same blood, Rufus' magical prowess had been made known to the boy since... well, since he could remember. Rufus' dexterity at sorcery proved an immense wall; a wall the Lucas burned to climb and to surpass. He had never given much thought to what he hoped to find on the other side of that wall. But if he were to venture deep enough, he supposed he felt he would find his sense of self. "There's no point in delaying a good start." The words struck a note in the boy's heart - a delighted note. And it showed in a childlike flicker in his eyes that was accompanied by a winning smile. These were fleeting of course. A gentleman knew to contain himself. Lucas quickly placed a damper on himself and his face fell into a polite half-smile. The fire behind his eyes continued to burn nonetheless. "I have, father," he replied when Rufus inquired whether he had done the necessary research. And he did. Several volumes worth. The same volumes were still safely tucked inside his trunk. He would surrender them to the potions master only after he had master the art. However, he certainly agreed that Animagi was a practical pursuit. Hence, his presence in his father's office that evening. Lucas did not immediately react when Rufus told him the time period it took for him to learn the art. Despite the way it was phrased, the boy had interpreted it as it was likely intended: as a challenge. He could hope to accomplish the task within the week, but that would have been unrealistic even for himself. Had the art been so simple, Lucas would not have thought it quite as worthwhile a pursuit. He nodded curtly, implying that he understood. But when Rufus magicked the wooden cubes onto his desk, Lucas couldn't help but smile inwardly. Wandless magic was something he hoped to master one day. That aside, a quick scan told him the number of items that needed transfiguration. Eighty. He would have easily transformed twice that number and then some. Seventy-eight was the number of organs in the human body. The number of bones could be anywhere between 206 and 350 depending on the person's age. All of which had to be transfigured at once when one transformed into an animal. It was one of the reasons Animagi was often only attempted when one had finished growing. The number of bones that needed transforming would number the minimum 206. Less items to transfigure made for less probability of mistakes. But then, Lucas had never been one to back down at such adversities. He raised his wand and, in full confidence, spoke the incantation. It didn't take a second for the spell to complete its task. The blocks were gone, replaced by eighty perfectly smooth, perfectly round spheres. The number certainly wasn't a problem. He looked to his father for the next step.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] But of course, Lucas had no problems reading between Rufus' lines, to see whatever hidden meaning there was held behind a front of common words. He was an Irving, after all. If he wasn't able to, who would? The only other people who could pull said feat off were people who were not of his blood but he was still related to them by law, if nothing else: his long time rival, Marcus; and his wife, Genevieve. And naturally, Lucas was unfazed as he stood up to the challenge. Confidence in his stance, the Slytherin accomplished the first step on his first try. Of course... this was child's play for Lucas, wasn't it? "Admirable," Rufus smiled when his son looked up to him. "As you've probably figured out, being an Animagus means to transform yourself -- every part of yourself -- simultaneously, meaning transfigurating multiple objects at once. It doesn't end there, however. You need to be able to transfigurate multiple objects into multiple things. Let's raise the bar slightly higher." He motioned towards the sphere-turned-blocks of wood. Using his hand in a cutting motion, he indicated four different sections. "In the top left corner, eagles; top right, lions; bottom left, snakes; bottom right, badgers." Perhaps its was a little unoriginal to just take that animals that represented the four houses, but then, it served its purpose. Lucas would have seen those four animals enough times to have a good idea what they looked like. "Just the shape, Lucas," Rufus reminded lightly, "I can't imagine it would be particularly enjoyable to have lions in the dungeons." The corners of his lips curled up slightly in a ghost of a smirk at the half-pun. Of course there was nothing to read between the lines there. Complex shapes would be far more challenging and while Lucas would have to transfigurate more than just outward appearance when it came to actual Animagi transformations, this was just another mile stone. More than actual skill, it tested concentration and precision. Even Rufus stumbled a little at this stage, not that he was about to make that fact known, of course. No need to discourage the student with any more than the task itself, daunting as it was. Rufus, being the professor that he was, found himself subconsciously wondering just where Lucas' skill in Transfiguration ended. It wasn't his subject, but then, one still wondered. Marcus was, no doubt, one of the more competent teachers here at Hogwarts, and Lucas had always possessed that mortal drive to be better than what he already was. Rufus couldn't quite say the same for himself when he was younger. He supposed it was a trait he got from Genevieve. But then, was he entirely void of a competitive spirit?

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] To receive his father's words of acknowledgement was both gratifying and satisfying. Despite the cool front that the boy had erected for himself - in the name of upholding family honor - Lucas was very much a fifteen-year-old boy. Although it might come as a surprise, Lucas, unlike many boys his age, found great pleasure in remembering who he was as much as what he was. It was only practical that a fifteen-year-old remembered that he was a fifteen-year-old. More to the point, Lucas found that he was happier remembering the graces and luxuries that fifteen-year-old boys were due. In regards to magical dexterity, no one could doubt that Lucas' was well beyond his years. As for maturity and preferences for pleasure, Lucas himself delighted in how youthful he still was. "Thank you, father," he said. His tone formal, but not lacking in youth. There was definitely a small sense of delight in the mild but genuine smile that he offered his father. Rufus' next instruction had the boy's confident façade faltering, if only for a moment, before it was masterfully concealed. Eighty cubes to spheres was little more than a simple exercise that even a second year could perform.Twenty each of lions, eagles, snakes and badgers was quite another matter entirely. Transfiguration had never been too challenging a field from the aspiring young wizard but truly, Lucas had yet to perform such complex transformations at such a scale. It was a tremendous gap; an utterly ridiculous thing to expect of a fifth-year! Almost at once, Lucas' wand grew hot in his hand; blazingly hot, SEARINGLY hot. Lucas' wand went clattering to the floor. Caught entirely off-guard by the wand's retaliation, pain flashed across his calm and controlled visage. He made no sound, however, even as his hand disappeared instantly into the sleeves of his robes. His bottom jaw met his upper maw in a tight clench. Lucas' afflicted hand closed itself briefly into a fist. After what seemed like several long-drawn moments of agony, the throbbing subsided. The bumps he felt on his skin were not encouraging. He held up his uninjured hand, politely indicating that he was alright and bent to retrieve his rebellious stick, touching it lightly before attempting to pick it up and careful to keep the boils from his father's line of sight. "I imagine it'd be as enjoyable as having an Acromantula in the shed," he returned jokingly. Knowing full well how very protective his father was towards his students, Lucas quickly added, "I'm not done yet. Please allow me to continue." He made a mental note to whip himself a batch of healing ointments before the night was out. Lucas closed his eyes and collected his focus. He was Lucas Irving, eldest son of Rufus Irving. He was going to best his father in every way imaginable. And most definitely, he was up for the task. Rufus had thought so. There was no base for doubting himself. He felt a gentle warmth in his wand, a small assuring surge of magic and knew that he was ready. 'Transfiguration, in its most basic essence, is the translation of one's vision onto a physical medium.' Wasn't that what Professor Dunesworth had always said? If so, then there was no 'eighty-cubes-to-be-transformed'. It was one object, consisting of many sub elements. One object to be transformed, and only one. He pictured the eighty wooden blocks in his mind and imagined them on a grid. From that image, he conjured the image of twenty lions, twenty eagles, twenty serpents and twenty badgers, all in their respective section of the grid. He took his time to imagine the features and textures of each animal; each respective curve and angle. When he was satisfied with his vision, he held it in his mind for a few moments longer. So, when Lucas Irving opened his eyes once more, he knew exactly what sort of changes he wanted of the blocks. Confidence dictating his every move, Lucas brought his wand into its appropriate pattern of movements. There was no incantation required for such free-form transfiguration. The cubes glowed and faint white and shifted and, when the light finally died, Rufus' desk held twenty a piece of representatives for Hogwarts' four houses. And what was more, no two animals were alike, with the last figure of each group shaped to form a stuffed version of the animal. The last of which was a rare show of Lucas Irving's mischief in defiance of his failed attempt.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Bloodwood. It was a most peculiar wand wood, yet, he was not at all surprised when Lucas had obtained it. There were, how to say, "consequences" to being the offspring of Rufus Irving and Genevieve Nightingale... Rufus, ever since Lucas had first grasped the hilt of the red wand in Olivander's four years ago, had never seen his son have a problem controlling it. If he hadn't known any better, he would have suspected that Lucas owned an silent and obedient elm like himself. While there might have been times before this, this was the first Lucas' wand backfired on him in front of Rufus. And of course, considering his own companion, managing a temperamental wand one of the very few things that Rufus couldn't teach his students through experience. It hurt. That much was a given. And seeing his own flesh and blood in pain was never something that sat well with Rufus Irving. However, seeing that determined expression on his face that oh so reminded him of a certain woman, Rufus gave a slow nod. His weak smile was just a little forced at Lucas' return to his quip. Acromantulas... Indeed... Rufus couldn't decide which one he hated more. After all, the Potions Master had never really spared any effort into making his... 'fondness' for magical creatures known. He watched carefully as Lucas resumed his attention towards the table. Confidence once again returning to his stance, Lucas weaved his wand through the air in a flawless movement and immediately... Quite despite himself, an eyebrow lifted higher than the other, his eyes blinking as it did. The initial shock, though, was quickly replaced with a smirk that he found was mirrored in the features of his own son. How did Lucas put it again? I know what is expected of me and I indulge in surpassing those expectations, was it? And surpass said expectations he did -- cleanly. "Executed like a true Irving," Rufus smiled, chest puffed out just slightly in fatherly pride as he placed a hand on Lucas' shoulder. Of course, even in the grandest of moments, Rufus could hardly forget the pained expression that Lucas wore just moments ago. His almost smug smirk subsided into a pleasant smile. "That's enough for today, I think. You're far more talented in Transfiguration than I was at your age. How about we schedule our next class to three nights after this." Adequate time for Lucas' wand hand to heal, he thought.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] There was no doubt that Lucas was pleased with himself. Thoroughly pleased, in fact. He had just performed a feat that had far exceeded what he thought himself capable of. It was, by no means, a fluke that Lucas had succeeded the transfiguration with this level of precision. All it took, was the understanding of a theory and the confidence to perform it. His wand had reminded him of the latter. But perhaps what made him most happy, was that he had succeeded in impressing Rufus Irving! Oh yes, he'd noticed that expression of genuine shock, however brief it was. The delight that resulted was just barely contained. He grinned broadly. He felt himself tremble, just a little, when Rufus placed a proud hand on his shoulder and awarded him a praise that - between the two of them - was likely the highest compliment the father could give to his son. And quite in spite of himself, he felt a little bit of colour rise in his cheeks. "Thank you, father," the boy replied with a deliberately controlled tone. The message was clear (to Lucas at least): he was still a boy; a boy who delighted in his father's acknowledgement and praise. Yet, it had been a while since Lucas showed his true feelings around his dad. Then again, it had been a while since Lucas asked for tutelage from his dad. Perhaps he ought to remedy that... There was, however, another matter he would have to attend to presently. His hand smarted from his wand's assault. Was that puss he felt leaking from the boils? Lucas managed to hide his grimace. He pocketed his wand and kept his fingers slightly curved to keep the pus from dripping. Rufus was right, of course. It was a good time to end the lesson. He did raise his brow in surprise at the mention of the next lesson. "In three days? I had imagined that you would want the rest of the week to yourself," he said. It was the reason he'd insisted to start the lessons tonight. The full moon was in eight days, after all. And no amount of discretion could have hid the fact that there were werewolves in the school. Lucas could go so far as to name them. Rufus would be kept busy. Well, Lucas would be kept busy. Ever since he perfected his skill in brewing the potion, Lucas had been anonymously leaving vials of Wolvesbane in the potions lab after hours.It was unknown - to Lucas - whether or not his father put them to use, but it made Lucas feel better to supply them. The thought of his father having to spend the night of the full moon in the company of semi-crazed creatures caused him no small discomfort. Would he ever tell his father about any of this though? Never. Whether or not his father had suspected him was something he had yet to pursue. "If it really is alright, we could have it a little later in the evening," he said. It wasn't an offer he would pass if possible and studying past curfew wasn't altogether a novel notion to him. Lucas waited for his father's confirmation before he bade his leave. "Also," he said, "I might need to peruse your lab past curfew tonight." He didn't want to worry his father. But he'd decided it wasn't something that could wait until morning. Neither did a trip to the infirmary this late seem appealing. After bidding his father good night, Lucas left the office with his eye-patch still neatly folded in his pocket. Just for tonight, he decided he wouldn't mind being called his father's son.