Professor Flatt
November 15, 2008 3:59 AM
Welcome to Aladren: First years, line up. by Professor Flatt
Flatt corralled together his flock of first years, attempting to make some sort of inventory of names and faces before the whole slew of first years were thrust up at him in class. Perhaps it ought to have affected him in someway, to lead his inaugural group of Aladrens as their Head of House- mind you, pro tem. He supposed, mixed somewhere in his coffee filled stomach, there existed some vestige of pride and accomplishment. Aladren had been his house, after all. But before that-"You there, save your adventuring for after we've reached the common room. Unless of course you want us to divvy up your trunk's contents to the highest bidder."
He enjoyed the start of possible fright his bark of instruction gave the wandering first year. He ambled to a stop outside of the school library. "Before I lead you to the entrance, a few rules; one: you are to tell no one outside of Aladren about the location of the entrance- nor the means by which we enter. Two: until you're comfortable with finding the entrance on your own, grab yourself a partner; I'll not be dashing into the library every three minutes to rescue lost first years. Three: unlike some of your other professors, I do not do nicknames; you'll call me Professor Flatt, Professor, or Sir. Any questions before we begin?" Flatt gave no pause, ignoring at least two hands that rose. "Good then; off we go."
He took his usual pace, which was more a shuffling amble than a true march. He strode, paunch forward, taking the turns generously and leading the group of first years deeper and deeper into the maze of seemingly haphazardly placed shelves, the books growing thicker and older the further they traveled. The air grew heavier, the musk of elderly pages and time-pressed tomes filling their breaths. Flatt would never admit to it, but as a student, he had loved taking the route to Aladren House. Much like a scenic car tour, or window shopping, he enjoyed the passage more so than the destination. There was never an occasion in which he did not discover something new to take interest in or read about.
Flatt came to a pondering stop, the walls surrounding his group all equally lined with books, pamphlets, and scrolls. Keeping silent, he pointedly reached for a particularly dilapidated text, titled Birds of Prey. "Your mnemonic is to remember Aladren's house symbol, the Hawk." He pulled once, gently, on the book and a stretch of shelve and wall pushed aside, revealing a welcoming spread of blue and more blue. Scattered about the large room were over-stuffed couches, often-occupied armchairs, and the spare ottoman or three. The focus of the Common Room was a large fireplace, always kept lit, and whose current setting washed the entire room in a comfortable glow of light and warmth.
"Welcome to the Aladren Common Room, your current residence and home away from home." Flatt, being himself, somehow managed to turn what should have been comforting words into a dry sarcasm. "Behind you, you'll see two sets of stairs: boys will head to the left and girls to the right. You’ll find yourself in for a painful surprise if you try the wrong stair, so I suggest otherwise. Save your fraternizing for the common areas. Curfew begins at 10pm. Again, I suggest adhering to this rule as you’ll not enjoy the repercussions.”
Flatt stepped away from the entrance, allowing the doorway to close behind him, meshing seamlessly into the wall. “ My office is behind that door there. I am available outside of class hours there, simply knock before entering.” Flatt had received several coachings on how best to lead Aladren House, and the predominant theme had been to ‘be nicer.’ Flatt was still Flatt, but he was trying. He had managed to voice that open invitation without including an insult or growl. Definitely an improvement.
“A few people you’ll want to familiarize yourself with: Chris Dupree is your Head Boy and Günter Heindrich and Paul Tarwater are your prefects; if you can’t find me, you can always go to one of them for assistance. Anne Wright is the captain of the Aladren Quidditch team- for our Quidditch fiends, let me quash your questions here: first years are not allowed to try out for the teams. There are no exceptions.” Flatt adjusted his thick glasses, squinting slightly at his fresh batch of fledgling miscreants. “Now then, classes begin first thing tomorrow, so the floor is open. Anyone have a question?”
Subthreads: A question, but not for Flatt...Tag: Taylor by Daniel Nash II with Taylor Li
So the transfers don't have to line up? by Quentin Melcher with Professor Flatt, <i>Professor</i> Flatt
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Professor Flatt
Welcome to Aladren: First years, line up.
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Professor Flatt
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Daniel Nash II
November 15, 2008 3:27 PM
A question, but not for Flatt...Tag: Taylor by Daniel Nash II
Holly had told Daniel that his Head of House would be Professor Kijewski (based on the descriptions of the Houses, he had assumed from the start that he would be put in Aladren). She had also told him that Professor Kijewski was on maternity leave, so he hadn't been sure where that left him.Holly had also told him a great deal about Professor Flatt, none of it good. He'd even given Holly - straight-laced, cries-if-you-look-at-her-in-disapproval, daughter-of-a-district-attorney Holly - a detention. For no better reason than because the man had it out for her. (Holly was given to hyperbole, though, so there was probably some reason for it.) Daniel was worried that simply being related to her would put him on Flatt's bad side. Fortunately, they did have different last names, so with a little luck maybe the unpleasant professor wouldn't find out.
Holly had not warned him that there was any chance Professor Flatt might be the temporary Head of Aladren.
Daniel spent most of the walk up to the Common Room split between staring at the back of the man's head in horror and trying to memorize the route. It didn't give him much chance to look over his classmates until they were actually in the very blue but comfortable looking room. When the Head of House asked if anyone had questions, Daniel looked around to see if anyone did and that was when he noticed the girl.
She was standing right next to him. She wore glasses, which she hadn't been the last time he saw her, but she could have been using contacts then. But he was almost positive that she had to be . . . "Ashley?" he whispered in shocked recognition. "What are you doing here?"
Except, her name wasn't Ashley. He remembered that as soon as he got a better look at her face. "Sorry. Not Ashley. It's . . . I know this." Except he didn't. Her real name wasn't coming to him. He shook his head, trying to jostle it free of his memory, but no luck. "Sorry."
She'd probably start calling him Nate out of revenge. Or worse, she'd call him Danny. Everyone on set had called him Danny. He'd hoped that by coming here, he could escape the childish form of his name. He'd already told Holly not to ever ever ever call him Danny ever again, but . . . Not-Ashley . . . had not been informed of this resolve and now he'd called her by her character's name. He might even deserve to get called Danny after that.
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Daniel Nash II
A question, but not for Flatt...Tag: Taylor
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Daniel Nash II
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Taylor Li
November 16, 2008 5:28 PM
I might have an answer by Taylor Li
When Aladren was called to be lead to their House, Taylor followed the rest of the once upon a time blueberries through the school to the library where they stopped briefly to get a lecture. It was hard to pay attention to what the professor was saying, because she just wanted to get there, to her House, but she listened well enough to catch that they were not to tell anyone, to have a partner (this worried her slightly to whether she could find a partner and to how difficult it must be to navigate), and how he wanted to be addressed. None of which was as important to her right now as reaching their destination.If she had been less anxious, Taylor might have questioned why a professor would bother to ask if there were any questions if he wasn’t going to answer them, but as it stood, she was more than eager to arrive to their destination. Unfortunately, getting through the stacks seemed to take forever causing her to wonder if the professor could possibly go any slower, but then it might have just been her dying in anticipation to see her room and get to know her roommates. Finally, they stopped at a wall of books where the professor pulled out one called Birds of Prey. If the House entrance was supposed to be such a secret, weren’t they worried that another student might actually want to read the book? It was something for her to add to her research.
Once in the Common room, she looked around in eagerness, half paying attention to the rules. It was love at first sight. The entire place just felt immediately like home. She began imagining herself sitting by the fire with one of her textbooks. Her fantasy was interrupted though when she heard a familiar voice next to her whisper. Turning her head, surprise registered on her fact. No way. Absolutely no way. What was the probability of something like this occurring? How many factors were involved? Both having magic. Both picking the same school. Both sorted into the same House. No way. But there he was. Daniel Nash II. And he thought she was Ashley. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or not. It wasn’t as though they were close friends. Besides, he was a star. They had assistants for those sorts of things.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the glasses that she was wearing, suddenly she felt self-conscious about them. When she had read in a magazine that people that wore glasses were thought to be intelligent, she had bought a pair. She didn’t even need them, but she wanted to establish an image different from the one her mother wanted for her. Now, though, she felt silly since she didn’t actually need them. Pulling them off, she grinned at his bit of stumbling and decided to save him, but only with a bit of teasing as well, “Taylor. And you’re…um..” she feigned not remembering, “wait, I have it, Nate, right?” She giggled a little, before assuring him that she knew his real name, “No, I remember, it’s Danny. I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, what are the chances, right?”
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Taylor Li
I might have an answer
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Taylor Li
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Daniel
November 17, 2008 10:02 AM
I'm glad to know you know why you're here. by Daniel
Taylor! That was it! Danny felt like an idiot for not remembering it now that he'd been told. Well, he'd felt like an idiot before, but now his idiocy felt slightly different. Taylor, right. He'd remember it now, and not just because he'd stuck his foot in it. Now, she was someone he was likely to see again after this week.In fact . . . same home town, same amateur career (even if Danny was better at it, if only by nepotistic connections if not by actual acting ability), same new magic school, same House even. They'd no doubt be seeing a lot of each other over the next seven years. It was more surprising he hadn't noticed her until now. If he hadn't been so busy bugging Holly while simultaneously trying to ignore he had a half-sister at all, he probably should have seen Taylor on the wagon.
What were the chances? "Astronomical," he answered. They were in Arizona. People came here from all over the United States, and even the world. It was unlikely enough that they'd both be from the same town, never mind the same TV show. "Wow. I did not expect to see anyone I knew here except my sister." And then, partly because he was a stickler for accuracy, but mostly because his relationship with Holly was complicated at best, he almost immediately gave a shake of his head and corrected himself, "Half-sister."
Not that he really knew Taylor, either, as evidenced by the fact that he'd been unable to recall her name, but even to recognize someone besides Holly here was, as Taylor had said, unbelievable. "Do you have magical family, then?" he guessed, because it would just be too creepy if they both came from non-magical parents as well. Otherwise, he'd have to ask Holly's dad to open an investigation into the water supply company that was contracted by the studio execs.
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Daniel
I'm glad to know you know why you're here.
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Daniel
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Quentin Melcher
November 25, 2008 10:55 PM
So the transfers don't have to line up? by Quentin Melcher
Oh, dear Merlin.Professor Flatt had asked if anyone had a question. A question. As in one singular question. They couldn't ask more.
Quentin had several and a great deal of them had nothing to do with anything Professor Flatt said.
For one thing, the HoH had said they could only fraternize in the common room. What if he wanted to fraternize in the library or the Cascade Hall or out in the Gardens or in class? Secondly, the whole grabbing a partner thing. Wouldn't it be rather rude to grab someone? And where on the person were they supposed to grab? How hard were they supposed to grab? What if there were an odd number of Aladrens, how could everyone have a partner then? Professor Flatt's instructions did not allow for groups of three.
Then there were so many questions out there, so many mysteries of life Quentin did not know the answers to. He was glad to be at school so he could learn the answers to them. Such as whether or not hot dogs had ever been made from real dogs and if they indeed could still be called hot dogs before they were heated up or which really came first, the chicken or the egg. But now, he had to pick just one.
"Professor, was turkey, the bird, named after Turkey the country or was the country named after the bird and why was it named as such?" After all, Professor Flatt had never said it had to be a relevant question to his speech and Quentin had managed to phrase it in a way that made it a singular question and not multiple ones.
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Quentin Melcher
So the transfers don't have to line up?
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Quentin Melcher
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Professor Flatt
November 28, 2008 10:56 PM
No, they don't. Only you. by Professor Flatt
In his youth, scores of years earlier, Thaddeus Flatt had considered himself a prime example of what an Aladren ought to be. He was independent and assured in his intelligence; he placed ability as the highest criterion for personal opinions; he was private and in that respectful of others' privacy (this trait did not translate to his later years, a misfortune for others). Most importantly, though, Flatt was never, at any point in his youth or later life, a twit.Sadly, it seemed- he glanced down to the register of names and photos of the first years he had marked off earlier- it seemed that Quentin Melcher did not share this particular trait.
"Mr. Melcher, I'm going to presume that first day nerves and whatever other ailments people of your size might suffer from are the cause for such a ridiculous response to my offer of information. Still," and Flatt's expression of long suffering was never before so pronounced, "since you asked-"
He withdrew his wand from his pocket, the squat four inches of hickory appearing inordinately well-matched to the man gripping it, and muttered the requisite spell. "Accio Clausen's North American Fauna and Jorg's Feather, Fowl, and You."
Within seconds, the Aladren common room entrance retracted and two tomes, one quite small and frail and the other its polar opposite, bounded in. The two books came to a rough landing in Flatt's hands; he subsequently shoved the two into Quentin Melcher's arms, not pausing to ensure their safe arrival.
"Pages 72 through 93 in Clausen's discuss the history of the North American turkey, and chapter 56 of Jorg's will provide you with the name's origin." Flatt stuffed his wand back into his pocket and turned to address the whole of the first years. "You'll find soon enough, miscreants, that I do not believe in giving you the answer. My job is to teach you how to find your own answers. Now then, Mr. Melcher, do you have any questions pertaining more directly to the school rules and guidelines?"
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Professor Flatt
No, they don't. Only you.
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Professor Flatt
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Quentin
November 29, 2008 10:00 AM
So the other first years don't have to line up too? by Quentin
Wow, the first day of school and the teacher was giving him books. Well, perhaps teacher was not the appropriate term. A teacher was one who actually taught Quentin something. To be fair, the books were teachers. This guy was..well he wasn't sure. He would enjoy reading the books though.But something still kind of bugged Quentin. "Sir, you do did not specify the previous question had to be about the rules and guidelines. You asked if we had any questions. I asked one. Thank you for the books however. And offering information can be about anything. I asked for information. Information doesn't pertain merely to what you what you said in your speech. Actually, giving books is an offer of information really, but then you didn't really offer it to me. You merely thrust them on me,whether or I appreciate them or not, which is more of an order. Offering would have been saying that you have some books I could read on the subject if I would like."
He paused, "And actually, I already know how to look up the information in books. So that's really not teaching me to find my own answers because I already know how. Plus, a teacher's job is to impart knowledge on his students." Quentin knew what a teacher did. He came from a family of educators and grew up around the school his grandfather ran which was full of teachers...who actually taught. "If I look it up myself, that doesn't make you a teacher, that makes the books teachers and technically, the books' authors teachers since it's their knowledge being imparted on me, not yours." He said that not to be a smart mouth. It was merely a statement of fact and his tone held no derision.
This time Mr. Flatt-Mr. as a professor was either a teacher at the university level,which Sonora wasn't a university nor had he proved himself to teach them anything yet, or one who professed which Quentin wasn't sure he had either, since he hadn't really offered beliefs or opinions, merely a speech on the rules and inaccurate statement about what his job as a teacher was- said they could ask multiple questions "However, since you offered to give me information on rules and guidelines, is it an official guideline that we can only fraternize here in the common room? Can we not fraternize in class or in the library or hall or gardens or pitch? Why can't we act congenial and associate on friendly terms elsewhere besides the common room?" That was after all, what fraternize meant.
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Quentin
So the other first years don't have to line up too?
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<i>Professor</i> Flatt
December 02, 2008 12:07 PM
Exactly. It's just you. by <i>Professor</i> Flatt
Flatt needed no additional time or consideration to come to the realization that his reasons for disliking children and other non-adults had not lost their merit. It was beyond him how any pair of parents could have ever allowed their child to have reached the ripe old age of eleven and not have ingrained some common sense into its thick head. If Quentin Melcher was anything to go by, this upcoming term of first year lessons was going to provoke many a recuperation by way of the bottle for Flatt."It appears that I overestimated your abilities, Mr. Melcher," he began, once his already very limited patience reached its crashing point. "I made an age old mistake of assuming that since you are an Aladren, you would also have some common sense. This was my mistake and so I won't fault you for your silliness."
Naturally, Flatt very much faulted the new Aladren for his silliness. His tone, in particular, left no questions as to that. "You will find, most hopefully, as you grow older, that the English language contains a vast number of words, and that one must rely on context clues- and more than just a smidgen of common sense- when considering their meaning. For future reference, should I ever pose a request for questions after having just gone over some other topic, you may very safely believe that my request is limited to what I have just discussed. Please keep this in mind."
The dialogue was growing increasingly irksome for Flatt. "Bully for you," he said in response to Melcher's professed ability to 'know how to look up information in books.' "If you hadn't learned this skill as of yet, I would be doubly as annoyed. Presumably, since you have this excellent handle on what teaching is and what teaching isn't, you'll not waste my time in future by requesting something and when answered, whining about the manner in which it was given. You may prattle question after question, but it is completely up to my discretion how I wish to relay your answers to you. I chose to let you read the material yourself, in hopes that-" It irked Flatt further that he should have to explain himself so. "In hopes that if you have additional questions upon finding your answers, you would have potentially helpful and relevant materials directly on hand. This, Mr. Melcher, is called forethought."
Flatt gave up on holding back his increasingly black mood. His thin lips settled into a scowl, and even the last sip from his now emptied coffee mug did nothing to alleviate his annoyance. This is exactly why he disliked children. They were so very literal- especially this one. "Apparently you weren't listening very well, Mr. Melcher. I said common areas, which- and I'll break this down for you so that I can ensure you understand quite clearly- which means that you may 'act congenially and associate on friendly terms' anywhere in the school where it has not been specified that males and females are separated. At the moment, there are only two such places in the school: the dorm rooms and the bathrooms.
"If you have further questions, Mr. Melcher, we may discuss them at a later time," and by this Flatt intended said time to be never, "in my office."
The school term had barely begun and already Thaddeus Flatt found himself counting the days til the winter holidays.
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<i>Professor</i> Flatt
Exactly. It's just you.
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<i>Professor</i> Flatt
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Quentin
December 08, 2008 3:55 PM
Would you rather I call you what Chelsea does? by Quentin
"Well, really, Sir, common sense is not an Aladren quality necessarily. Aladrens are logical, strong-willed, problem solvers, look for solutions, are independent, and love learning, so yes, it was indeed a mistake to believe Aladrens necessarily have common sense. I believe common sense is a Crotalus trait, if anything, though I don't even think it's that."Quentin paused. "Furthermore, common sense doesn't really exist or more people would have it, hence the word common ." His grandfather was often mentioning students-as well as Quentin's uncle Jethro-who really did not have it so it appeared not to be common. Quentin went on,as it was rarely his way to stop. He thought carefully of a way to phrase the next thing he was going to say so it would not be a question. Mr. Flatt had said he could only ask questions later, in his office. While it was later, later being any time right after he made his statement, be it five seconds or five years,Mr. Flatt had specified a place, which was in his office, and right now, they were still in the common room. (Which was a silly name for it really, as it wasn't necessarily common any more than sense was. There could be lots of rooms that were much like it. Aladren Public Room would have been a better fit. It was public to all Aladrens, and it was a room. Or Aladren Gathering Room as it was where Aladrens gathered, though he supposed the library could also be considered an Aladren gathering room.)
"There's not really a point in asking you something you already discussed. I mean, if you already discussed it, we already know it. If I ask you something on a different matter we could learn about something else that we may or may not know." Quentin responded. "Also, I was not whining. I was stating something in a matter of fact tone."
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Quentin
Would you rather I call you what Chelsea does?
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Quentin
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