SEVEN: The art of arguments

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Evelina Valentine slammed her quill onto the table, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Remus Lupin, if you interrupt me on more time, I will personally hex your notes into confetti," she snapped, leaning forward across the debate club table. Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

"You can't hex what doesn't exist," Remus shot back smoothly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "I've already memorized my points. Unlike you, I don't need a stack of parchment to hold my hand."

Evelina's cheeks flushed, and her grip on her quill tightened.

Across the table, Sirius Black let out a low whistle, nudging James Potter. "They're going to kill each other one of these days," he said in a mock seriousness.

"Or elope," James added, grinning as Evelina and Remus turned to glare at him simultaneously.

"Focus, Potter," She snapped before turning back to Remus. "Unlike some people, I prefer my arguments grounded in solid evidence, not overinflated ego."

"And yet my overinflated ego still manages to win against your so-called solid evidence half the time," Remus retorted.

"Alright, alright," Sirius interrupted, clapping his hands together. "This is entertaining and all, but if you two don't stop arguing over every little thing, the rest of us are going to start charging admission."

"I've got an idea," James said, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let's make this interesting."

Evelina raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm listening, but only because I'm morbidly curious."

James grinned. "We'll keep score for every debate you two have until the end of the month. Whoever wins the most debates gets to choose a prize. Remus, if you win, you have to take Evelina on the worst date imaginable."

"A date?" Evelina echoed, her voice incredulous.

"Yes, the worst date ever," Sirius interjected, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Think Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop but worse. Pink ruffles everywhere, awkward conversations, the whole shebang."

Evelina's glare was venomous. "That's not a prize; that's a punishment."

"Exactly," Sirius replied, looking far too pleased with himself. "If you win, you get to assign all of Remus' prefect duties for the next month. No limits. Endless patrols, carrying messages for Filch. . .the works."

Remus rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. I accept. But don't get your hopes up, Valentine."

"Oh, I won't," Evelina shot back. "You're going to lose so spectacularly that I'll have you dusting the Trophy Room every night for a month."

Before their banter could escalate further, the door to the club room creaked open. Professor Sikander, their debate club advisor, swept in with his usual air of calm authority.

"I see the two of you are as lively as ever," he said dryly, glancing between Evelina and Remus. "Good. You'll need that fire for your next challenge."

"Challenge?" Remus asked, sitting up straighter.

Professor Sikander nodded. "The upcoming inter-school debate tournament. Hogwarts has been invited to compete against Beauxbatons Academy."

Evelina groaned audibly. "Let me guess. Ella and Elliott Delacroix?"

"Correct," Sikander confirmed, folding his arms. "The Delacroix twins will be representing Beauxbatons, along with two supporting partners. You'll be our primary representatives, with Mr. Black and Mr. Potter as your supporting team members."

"Those preppy French brats?" Remus exclaimed, slumping back in his chair. "They're insufferable!"

"And smug," Evelina added. "They act like they're better than everyone just because they've won every time we've faced them."

"Then it's time to change that," Professor Sikander said firmly. "The tournament is in two weeks. You have until then to prepare your arguments and refine your teamwork."

Evelina and Remus exchanged wary glances.

"Teamwork?!" they said in unison, their voices dripping with skepticism.

"Yes," Sikander said, clearly unimpressed by their lack of enthusiasm. "If you're going to defeat the Delacroix twins, you'll need to work together. No exceptions."

As Sikander left the room, the silence that followed was heavy with tension. Finally, James broke it with a laugh.

"Well, this is going to be fun," he said, slapping Sirius on the back. "Can't wait to see how this plays out."

"Fun?" Evelina muttered. "This is going to be a disaster."

Remus smirked. "For once, we agree."

The following week brought more chaos as Hogwarts prepared to host the Beauxbatons team. On the day of their arrival, Evelina and Remus waited in the Great Hall with Sirius and James. When the doors opened, the Delacroix twins swept in with their usual flair, their robes pristine and their expressions radiating condescension.

"Ah, Hogwarts," Ella drawled, her French accent dripping with disdain. "Still so. . .how do you say. . .charmingly medieval."

"More like depressingly drab," Elliott corrected, flicking imaginary dust from his immaculate sleeve. "Do they not believe in proper lighting here?"

Evelina crossed her arms. "Charming as always, I see."

"And punctual," Remus said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "We were starting to think you'd gotten lost."

Ella's eyes narrowed. "Hardly. We were simply ensuring we made a proper entrance. Something you lot wouldn't understand."

Elliott grinned. "It's not their fault, Ella. They lack the. . . je ne sais quoi." He spoke, looking around the Great Hall with an exaggerated grimace, clearly not impressed by the scene before him. The long tables, the towering ceilings, the faded tapestries — it all seemed to gross him out rather than inspire any sort of appreciation.

Sirius chuckled under his breath, clearly noticing Elliott's discomfort. "Au moins, invente une insulte," he muttered, crossing his arms with a smirk.

The twins were taken aback by Sirius' sudden switch to French, exchanging surprised glances. Ella's eyes widened in disbelief before she turned to Evelina with a teasing grin. "Oh, so you've brought a French person to help you win?" she teased, arching an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

Before Evelina could fire back, the Delacroix twins' supporting partners trailed in behind them. A tall, gangly boy with a perpetually vacant expression stumbled over his robes, nearly tripping on the threshold.

"This is Hugo," Ella said with a wave of her hand. "And that's Colette," she added, gesturing to a petite girl who was busy examining her nails.

"Bonjour," Hugo mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Colette glanced up briefly. "Ah, oui, bonjour," she said dismissively before returning her attention to her nails.

James leaned over to Sirius. "I take it back. This might not be as bad as we thought."

"At least their backup makes us look competent," Sirius whispered back.

Evelina turned her attention to the twins. "You might want to start focusing on the debate instead of your entrance. This time, you won't win."

Ella raised an eyebrow. "Bold words for someone who's never beaten us."

"There's a first time for everything," Remus interjected, stepping up beside Evelina. "And I wouldn't underestimate us." He crossed his arms.

Elliott smirked. "Oh, we're not underestimating you. We're simply acknowledging reality." He shrugged.

Hugo nodded enthusiastically, though it was unclear if he understood what was being said. Colette, meanwhile, yawned.

Evelina clenched her fists. "We'll see who's acknowledging reality when we wipe the floor with you."

"On va voir, mon ami," Elliott said smoothly, his voice laced with mischief.

"Looking forward to it," Ella added, her smile icy. "Try not to disappoint us too much."

As the Beauxbatons team sauntered off, Sirius let out a low whistle. "They're insufferable."

"And they're not wrong about one thing," James added. "We've got a lot of work to do."

The soft hum of page turns and quill scribbles filled the library. It was intended to be a fruitful meeting, a cooperative attempt to get ready for the argument. However, Evelina's voice would always break the silence with a scathing comment whenever Remus attempted to concentrate on their research, and vice versa. There was a lot of tension and frustration rather than a sense of togetherness.

"Valentine, you're completely missing the point here," Remus muttered, flipping through a textbook with little enthusiasm. "If we're going to argue that modern Muggle advancements don't make magic less relevant, we can't just cherry-pick a few flashy examples and call it a day."

"And you can't keep burying the debate in overly complicated theories that no one but you cares about," Evelina shot back, her quill tapping a quick, sharp rhythm on the desk. "We need practical, relatable examples, not some long-winded spiel about how Muggles invented the typewriter."

Remus looked up, his brow furrowed. "The typewriter? Really? That's your idea of a modern advancement worth debating?" He doubted her.

"Why not? Everyone loves a good typewriter. But I was thinking bigger—computers, airplanes, telephones. The things Muggles see as revolutionary. And before you say anything, no, we don't need to know how they work." Evelina smirked, leaning back in her chair.

Before Remus could fire back, Sirius, lounging in his chair with his feet up on the table, let out an exaggerated sigh.  "Honestly, if you two keep at this rate, we're not going to win anything, let alone beat the Beauxbatons twins." He took a look at both of them and asked; "Do you two ever stop arguing long enough to get anything done?"

James, who had been fidgeting with his quill in a desperate attempt to focus, glanced up and nodded in argument. "We need a solid strategy. Not just endless bickering."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not even close to having a strategy, James. She's not listening to me."

Evelina's eyes narrowed. "You're not listening to me."

"Okay, okay," Sirius said, his tone mockingly calm. "We've been at this for hours, and nothing's getting done. I think it's time we go to the common room for a bit. You two can hash it out without us."

James grinned but didn't look particularly happy. "I'm with Sirius. You two are like a never-ending quarrel machine. We'll see you in a bit, alright?"

"You're not staying?" Evelina shot them both a raised eyebrow. "Not even to witness the magic of our—"

"—constant arguing?" James finished with a grin. "No thanks, we've seen enough."

With that, the two of them got up, gathered their things, and left the library. As the door swung shut behind them, Evelina and Remus were left in an uncomfortable silence.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"This is your fault," Evelina finally snapped, breaking the silence as she slammed her quill down onto the table.

"My fault?" Remus shot back, his eyes narrowing as he pushed his chair back just enough to cross his arms defensively. "You're the one who turned every single suggestion into a critique."

Evelina threw up her hands, her voice rising. "Because your suggestions were rubbish, Lupin! Honestly, you think you're the epitome of intelligence, but—"

"But what?" Remus interrupted, leaning forward, his brows knitting in frustration. "At least I'm trying to make sense. You're too busy competing to notice that half your points are barely coherent!"

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in mock disbelief. "Coherent? This from the boy who tried to argue that using riddles in a formal debate would somehow 'confound' our opponents."

"Because it would!" Remus countered, his hand gesturing animatedly, as though physically forcing his point into existence.

"You're impossible!" Evelina stood abruptly, glaring down at him, her fingers splaying against the table for balance.

"And you're exhausting!" Remus shot back, matching her glare as he remained seated, though his posture was rigid as if he were ready to spring to his feet at any moment.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, their heavy breathing the only sound in the library. Evelina finally sat down with an exaggerated sigh, her fingers rubbing her temples. "I can't believe they actually left us."

Remus smirked faintly, his voice low but laced with dry humor. "Can you blame them? If I had the choice, I'd leave too."

Evelina rolled her eyes but couldn't help the slight twitch of her lips. "Right, because you're such a joy to work with."

"Compared to you? Absolutely," Remus quipped, his tone lighter now, though the competitive edge still lingered.

Evelina rolled her eyes, though the edge of a smirk betrayed her. "Merlin, I hate you." She  muttered, but there was no heat behind the words.

"The feeling is mutual," Remus replied, though his expression softened ever so slightly.

For a brief moment, the room fell silent again. Evelina leaned forward, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her parchment. "But I hate those Beauxbatons twins more."

Remus replied, "Now that is something I can get behind," with a cunning smile on his lips. "What a pair Ella and Elliott are. They truly are insufferable.

"Insufferable doesn't even cover it," Evelina said, her eyes narrowing as if picturing Elliott's smug face. "Elliott, with that stupid smirk, always acting like he's already won before the debate's even started."

"And Ella," Remus added, a wry smile spreading across his face. "Does she even have opinions, or does she just parrot whatever Elliott says with a yawn and a hair flip?"

Evelina snorted, "Oh, Hugo and Colette. they're like their personal mascot. I'm convinced they don't even know what we're debating half the time. they're just there to nod and look pretty." She said leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table.

Remus chuckled, his head dipping as he tapped his quill against the table rhythmically. "It's almost impressive, really. They've mastered being obnoxious as a team. Meanwhile, we can't even get through one sentence without fighting." He said low and genuine.

Evelina didn't reply immediately. As much as she hated to admit it, Remus was right. Her fingers stilled on the edge of the parchment, tracing the faint indentations left by her furious scribbles. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it out loud, but the truth settled uncomfortably in her chest.

The Beauxbatons twins had mastered the art of working together, an infuriatingly polished act of harmony that made their insufferable smugness even worse. They weren't just talented debaters—they were a seamless team. Elliott's sharp wit and Ella's somewhat cool composure balanced each other perfectly, and even Hugo's and Colette's clueless enthusiasm added an odd kind of charm to their dynamic.

Meanwhile, she and Remus couldn't go a single second without snapping at each other. Every word between them felt like a jab, every glance a challenge. It wasn't just about the debate—it was about proving who was better, who could win the argument, who could emerge on top. And in their relentless battle of wills, they were completely missing the point.

Her gaze flicked to Remus. His hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled something on his notes. He had this infuriating way of looking both determined and disheveled like he was completely in his element even while everything felt chaotic.

For a moment, she felt a pang of something unfamiliar—was it guilt? Regret? It didn't matter. What mattered was the sinking realization that the twins' biggest strength wasn't just their debating skills. It was their ability to function as a team. And if she and Remus couldn't figure out how to do the same, they didn't stand a chance.

Taking a slow breath, Evelina leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You might actually have a point," she said grudgingly, her voice laced with reluctance.

Remus's head snapped up, his quill pausing mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did you just admit I'm right?"

"Don't push it, Lupin," Evelina retorted sharply, though there was no real bite in her tone.

"Noted," he replied, the smirk lingering as he turned his attention back to his notes.

She huffed, shaking her head as she returned to her parchment. The twins might have mastered being collectively unbearable, but if she and Remus could somehow channel their endless arguing into something productive. . .maybe, just maybe, if they had a shot.

Suddenly, a spark ignited in her mind, illuminating a realization so simple it was almost ironic. They did have a shot—because Elliott and Ella's strength wasn't just in their polished synergy; it was in their shared obnoxiousness. Together, they were insufferably cohesive, wielding their combined arrogance like a weapon. That was their art, their strategy, their edge.

And maybe, just maybe, arguing was hers and Remus's.

The thought twisted her lips into a wry smile. If the twins could turn their worst traits into their greatest advantage, why couldn't she and Remus do the same? Sure, they couldn't go a minute without clashing, but this wasn't a disadvantage—it was their forte. Debate wasn't about harmony or politeness; it was about conflict, about the art of arguments.

If the whole point was to argue, then maybe their constant bickering wasn't the problem. It was the solution.

If they were going to fight, they might as well make it count.

Evelina tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe arguing is what we're good at," she said as it was a matter of fact because quite frankly it was.

Remus raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Is that your excuse for why we can't stop?"

"It's not an excuse," Evelina said, her tone laced with humor as she leaned in slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. "It's a strategy." A grin spread across her face as she added, "We're pretty good at it, aren't we?" Though her words came out as a question, it was clear she wasn't looking for an answer.

"True," Remus agreed, his gaze meeting hers for a moment longer than usual. "And if we're going to argue anyway, we might as well make it count."

Without saying it outright, they seemed to find a rhythm, their quills moving in tandem as they began drafting their argument. Their bickering didn't stop—it never could—but now it felt purposeful, each sharp remark and counterpoint sharpening their strategy rather than derailing it.

And for the first time, their arguments weren't just about proving each other wrong or tearing each other down — they were about winning. Together.

The Muggle Studies classroom buzzed with energy as students filed into their seats. At the front of the room, Professor Sikander stood with an air of calm authority, his sharp eyes sweeping over the class. "All right, everyone," he announced, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. "Today's debate will test not only your understanding of the material but your ability to think critically and defend your positions under pressure. Remember, respect your opponents, but don't be afraid to challenge them."

Evelina sat beside Remus, the two of them hunched over their notes. Though they weren't looking at each other, there was an unspoken understanding in their preparation. Across the room, the Beauxbatons twins, Elliott and Ella, whispered furiously to each other while their teammates sat stiffly, clearly unsure how to contribute.

Professor Sikander stepped forward. "The topic of today's debate: Do modern Muggle advancements make magic less relevant? Evelina Valentine and Remus Lupin will argue against it, while Ella and Elliott Beauregard will argue in favor. Begin."

Ella rose first, her French accent lilting as she addressed the room. "We believe that Muggle advancements—technology, medicine, communication—are not just impressive, but are surpassing what magic can accomplish. For instance, Muggles have created ways to communicate across vast distances instantly. Can magic do that without significant effort or cost?"

Evelina stood up, without missing a beat; "While Muggle advancements are noteworthy, they still fall short of the flexibility and breadth of magic. For example, Muggles rely on machines for communication, but magic allows for instantaneous connections across dimensions without any need for infrastructure. Magic doesn't require signal towers or satellites—it's inherently more versatile." she replied smoothly, her tone sharp.

Elliott shot up, "Versatility isn't efficiency. Muggles have perfected air travel to move people across continents safely. Magic? Dangerous and impractical." his tone is arrogant.

"You're ignoring the environmental impact of Muggle transportation. Magic leaves no carbon footprint. And if we're talking efficiency, how about Portkeys? One touch, and you're where you need to be—no delays, no turbulence." Remus leaned back in his chair, speaking with quiet authority.

Ella interrupted, her tone cutting. "Portkeys? Do you mean the same method that can make people violently ill? Hardly a shining example."

Evelina smirked. "So you're suggesting that airplanes—where people routinely get sick and suffer jet lag—are better? Fascinating logic, Beauregard."

The class chuckled, and Ella's cheeks flushed red.

As the debate kept going on, Evelina and Remus launched their arguments with precision and confidence, their words flowing seamlessly despite the occasional jab exchanged under their breath. Their synergy, however reluctant, was undeniable.

The twins, usually flawless, began to fumble under the relentless assault of sharp logic and pointed rebuttals. Elliott, in particular, started to rant in rapid French, his frustration spilling out as he gestured wildly.

"C'est absurde! Vous pensez que la magie est parfaite? Vous vivez dans un rêve!" Cried Elliott clearly, agitated.

Sirius lazily raised a hand joining in. "Eh bien, Elliott, peut-être que si vous arrêtiez de crier, vous pourriez réfléchir un peu mieux."

Elliott glared at Sirius, his face turning crimson.

Professor Sikander cleared his throat, his expression stoic but his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Order, please. Continue."

Evelina and Remus looked at one another, their mutual grin indicating what they would do next. They started a heated conversation in which they witty and precisely rebutted each of the twins' arguments. As they attempted to recover control, the twins stumbled and their once-cohesive arguments broke down.

By the end of the debate, the twins were visibly flustered, their usual composure shattered.

When Professor Sikander finally called time, Evelina and Remus sat back, a shared look of satisfaction passing between them.

Professor Sikander stood. "The winners of today's debate, for their sharp arguments and well-rounded defense, are Evelina Valentine and Remus Lupin."

Applause broke out, and while most of the class seemed genuinely impressed, Ella and Elliott stormed out, their faces bright red. Elliott muttered something under his breath, but Sirius called after them cheerfully, "Au revoir, mes amis! Ne revenez pas trop vite!" He said still clapping as he added; "Bonne chance avec votre prochaine défaite!"

As Evelina and Remus gathered their things, James approached, grinning, and clapped a hand on Remus's shoulder. "You two actually worked well together. Who knew you could actually work together?"

Sirius nodded; "Brilliantly too, may I add," he added, smirking. "You'd make a killer team if you could stop trying to kill each other."

Evelina rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it," she said hefting the trophy they'd been awarded. "This doesn't mean we're suddenly friends."

"Definitely not," Remus replied, crossing his arms. "We only worked well together because we had no choice," he shrugged. "But you know, we had to master and weaponize what we're best at—arguing. After all, that's the whole point of a debate, isn't it? The art of arguments." He shrugged.

Evelina raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on her face. "Oh, so now you're admitting I carried the team?"

Remus paused for a moment, clearly reluctant, before he grinned and said; "A little but, only because I kept us from completely derailing."

Evelina leaned in, her smirk widening. "A little? I practically had to carry you through half of it."

Remus scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You? Carried? If anything, I was the one keeping us from descending into chaos."

"Chaos? Please, you're the definition of chaos. If I weren't there, you'd still be stammering through your first rebuttal," Evelina shot back, her tone playful but firm.

As they left the room, their voices echoed down the hallway, locked in yet another argument—this time over the rightful owner of the debate trophy.

"Well, if anything, I think I deserve that trophy."

"You—?! I'm sorry, whose idea was it to keep arguing in order to win?!"

James and Sirius lingered behind, watching the pair disappear around a corner, their laughter filling the now-quiet space.

"They're actually a deadly education paired together," Sirius said, shaking his head in disbelief.

James chuckled. "And they don't even realize it. . .they're hopeless," he added beamingly.