psocoptera

I fenced! Well, I went to fencing. And held a sword, and stepped forward and back, and lunged at a wall. It is bloody hard, especially the feet and which one goes when, and the holding of the legs and arms in unnatural and exhausting positions, but kinda neat.

And it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, making me want to write fencing fic:

Harry hated the fencing lessons.

Sirius had arranged them, as a birthday gift, and Harry had been very excited when Sirius had told him Dumbledore had agreed to it. He anticipated the lessons as an invigorating break from the tedious demands of classes; he had, after all, already killed a basilisk.

But it turned out that killing a basilisk had very little in common with fencing lessons. The basilisk had not cared if Harry's foot was turned out or if his elbow was down or even if his grip was correct.

The fencing master decidedly did.