The training room. Spike hadn’t been here before, and wasn’t planning to go here today until he heard a familiar voice. Apparently Jimmy was doing some sort of speech, and Spike peeped his head round the door before quietly slipping inside. He frowned, confused, though he guessed it was something to do with the ridiculous assignment they’d been set. Sure, he was up for doing something a little more physical than reading books – Spike was well known for hating sitting sit for more than five minutes...but ballroom dancing? Pfffttttt. Karate maybe, not that he knew how to do any. Forward rolls around the Great Hall around dinnertime was tempting. But dancing and speeches and mediation were all just a big waste of time, in his opinion.

He had all the energy he needed. Too much probably, until Quidditch kicked in. What Spike really (desperately, some of his Professors might say) needed help with was his wandwork. Big time. With that and his lack of love for books, it was anyone’s guess how Spike had ended up in Ravenclaw. DADA was one of the only lessons that held his attention long enough to learn anything involving a wand. He took his wand from his pocket, and fingered it nervously. “Jimmy,” he spoke up, looking at the older boy slightly wide eyed through his curls. “Would you know, like, er, help me? With stuffs?”

...and just maybe Spike could find a way to get him and Finn talking again along the way.