Headmistress Powell

May 01, 2009 1:20 AM
It was a beautiful evening. Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Cascade Hall, creating a dazzling display of ripples and rainbows as the final rays of the day were reflected by the waterfalls lining the room. Sadi had made her way to Sonora in her usual fashion: Apparition. She was wearing her customary plain brown robes and her graying hair was fastened, as usual, in a neat knot at the nape of her neck. She stood quietly in the far corner of the room as returning students noisily made their way into seats, and the first years were gathered by the door. The new students were greeted by Deputy Head Professor Flatt, and Sadi honestly wasn’t sure which party looked more nervous out of the first years and Henry. She understood the anxiety; she herself was concerned that she might make some terrible mistake during her first day as Headmistress. Hopefully those present would forgive any stumbles.

When all the wagons were empty, Sadi joined her colleagues at the staff table (although she stood in front of it, rather than sat behind) and called for attention. “Settle down, please,” she said, gentle but commanding, as always. When there was enough quiet to be heard without the assistance of charms, Sadi graced the students with a smile. “To our older students, welcome back. To our first year students, welcome to Sonora Academy.” With Henry’s assistance, each new student was handed a goblet full of a clear, bubbling liquid. When swallowed, this potion would turn the drinker’s skin the corresponding color of the House to which they now belonged: blue for Aladren, yellow for Teppenpaw, red for Crotalus, and brown for Pecari.

Most students enjoyed watching the sorting of the first years. Sadi couldn’t deny that the event had held her interest more thoroughly when she’d been Head of Crotalus, and so could identify her future students, but it was nevertheless an entertaining event. Therefore she waited patiently until all the students had settled once more before returning to her address.

“As always, the prairie elves have provided us with a magnificent feast,” she said, hoping to reel in the attention of those whose minds had wandered. “However, before we eat, I would like to make a few short announcements. Firstly, I would like to draw your attention to some changes in staffing this year. Professor Flatt,” Sadi gestured towards her colleague, now seated at the staff table, “will be supporting me as Deputy Head. I ask that you afford him every courtesy he deserves.” The worry about what would happen to the school if the government-appointed Deputy were to be unhappy remained unspoken. “Secondly, I would like you all to welcome Stella Nelson, who will be your new school Counselor. If you are having troubles of any sort, students are welcome to make an appointment to see the counsellor at any time.”

"Next I have a notice for the older students. You may have noticed that Professor Huntley is not with us this year. This is because Sonora Academy will, for the time being, not be offering elective classes." Call it pressure from above, cost cutting, lack of student interest, call it whatever you like - the situation remained the same, and was only made worse when one considered the school's inability to maintain all staff members from one year to the next. "If any students in fourth year or above wish to continue learning either Muggle Studies or Ancient Runes as independent studies, please see me."

“There have also been some alterations in Heads of Houses. Professor Flatt will be leading Teppenpaw, and Professor Taylor will take charge of Aladren House.” Sadi decided that the reasons behind this decision (namely to keep assorting governing bodies content) didn’t need to be shared. “Crotalus students may welcome Professor O’Leary as their Head, and Pecari House will be under care of Professor Baer.” Again, the reasons were not explained, though this time in sensitivity to Professor Baer; Sadi felt the transfiguration professor would be more adept at dealing with the boisterous Pecaris than the obstreperous Crotalus girls.

“Your Head of House will support and guide you during your time here at Sonora, and they are assisted by prefects and the Head Boy and Head Girl.” Bringing us nicely on to the next announcement, Sadi thought, as she reached into the pocket of her robes and brough forth a small box. “Could this year’s Head Boy, Geoffrey Layne, and Head Girl, Briony O’Leary, please come to collect their badges.” Sadi smiled at each seventh year, handing over the large badges bearing the school crest, and accepting the temporary badges they had been wearing until now. She replaced them in the box, where they joined four prefect badges. “Could this year’s prefects please join me to collect their badges. Congratulations to Lucas Smythe of Aladren, Josiah Ashwood of Teppenpaw, Lutece Anthony of Crotalus, and Irene Liddowe of Pecari.”

Sadi distributed the badges with a smile and ‘well done’ for each student. She put the lid back on the box and returned it to her pocket as she waited for the applause to die down before attracting attention for the last time that evening. “Thank you for listening for so long. I have no more announcements to make, so you are free to enjoy your food.” With a wave of Sadi’s hand, each and every table was suddenly groaning under a multitude of dishes, plates and jugs, each filled to the brim with one or another of an impressive variety of foods and drinks. Enough, indeed, that no student had yet found the feast lacking, and no student was ever likely too.

As everyone began eating, Sadi made her way to her own seat, and sunk into it, relieved that the hardest part of her day was over. She poured herself a small measure of good wine, and sipped from her goblet.

\r\n\r\n
Subthreads:
0 Headmistress Powell Let the Opening Feast commence! 0 Headmistress Powell 1 5


Ian Grimm

May 01, 2009 5:38 PM
Some people gave the number three power in their lives. They kept to multiples of three in everything- except those involving three sixes- and liked to reassure themselves that while attempts one and two might have failed, attempt number three because it is a three will be granted success. Ian Grimm imagined some of his fellow third years might subscribe to this same sort of reasoning. Personally, he did not. He saw absolutely no difference in numbers, aside from quantifiable value, and so he approached his third year at Sonora Academy as he would with any other year. He tolerated the wagon ride, with its uncomfortable benches and impossible to avoid dust, and watched disinterestedly as the newest batch of first years drank from the goblet. It was of some note to observe that the chosen Deputy Headmaster was most definitely a government insertion, considering the man held the least tenure, and in Ian's opinion, had joined the previous year under dodgy circumstances.

Still, just about anything was an improvement on Thaddeus Flatt, and so Ian merely jotted a few additional details on the younger Henry Flatt in one of his black notebooks before turning his attentions to the dining table. Carefully, he donned his gold rimmed glasses and considered the entirety of the Hall. His grandmother had given explicit instructions and expected his first letter describing his progress within the next four weeks. Ian, as annoyed as he was to be in such a situation, could think of no better time to weigh out potential future partners than at the Opening Feast.

There were the girls in his House, and Aladrens were a fairly decent lot in terms of sense and intelligence Ian reckoned. The two second year girls, though, seemed hardly suitable. One was a Hollywood type and the other barely mentionable. Nothing remarkable there. From his year, there was Jera and Delany. Jera was a possibility he supposed; he skimmed through his notebook and considered his notes. Too few, he decided, to make a definitive decision. Delany was a firm negative; entirely too friendly for his tastes, and he could only imagine that the trait would grow in strength over the years instead of wane. Then there was Chelsea Brockert, a fourth year girl.

Ian spotted her near her usual crowd, and tapping the back of his pen against his mouth, he couldn't help but notice that her 'usual crowd' was actually made up of the sort his grandmother would like. Not necessarily because they were Purebloods- minus that dramatic one from Pecari- but because they exuded confidence. Still, his notes on the lot were fairly scarce, mostly because he hadn't been interested before. They struck him as arrogant, and he did not know whether the arrogance was deserved or merely an affectation. His brown eyes continued their scan of the room, his hand moving occasionally to jot the occasional observation in his notebook, until his gaze settled on yet another viable prospect.

There was absolutely no way, though, that Ian was going to consider her. She was silly and pink and far too annoying to ever be a possibility- in his eyes at least. His grandmother had thought differently. "Oh, Ian darling, a Smythe- she sounds darling, too, and already you're escorting her to a function. Do be sure to take one of our labels from the wine cellar for her parents as a greeting." His grandmother Nora hadn't shut up on the subject for nearly fifteen minutes, and it was all Ian could manage to not crush the teacup she had forced in his hands. But he had self control and his grandmother was far too intimidating a woman to show such carelessness in front of.

Still, Amelia had her purposes. She was female, sort of, and she could at the very least provide some information regarding the rest of her gender. Plus, he had his basket of summer favors to throw her way; it might be enough to buy her attentions long enough for the job. She did seem to like the previous summer's donations. This year, the basket included a jade pendant encrusted with tiny chips of diamonds, a delicate collection of chocolate truffles, and some other items he hadn't cared to identify but had been assured by his mother would be received warmly. Ian began to put his notebook away, capping his pen, when he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

Irritated, Ian paused in his preparations. "What?" he asked, his tone not exactly friendly.
0 Ian Grimm Step 1: Identify the Possibles 110 Ian Grimm 0 5


Jera Valson

May 12, 2009 4:26 AM
Jera was feeling both unusually nervous and unusually excited about the new term. She was also feeling unsettled after the summer, which had been an unpleasant rollercoaster of a season. While spending time with her father had been fun beyond anything, Jera had been absolutely forbidden to do any magic whatsoever in case she got her mother into trouble. She knew that legally she wasn't supposed to do any magic, but she'd never thought the occasional charm to keep her in shape would do any harm. She only hoped her grades this year wouldn't suffer from her wand's lack of use.

Worse than that, the druids a bit further up the mountain, with whom Jera had always gotten along very well, had shunned her because she was, according to them, no longer a child, and had not properly followed the proper rituals to become a true witch. So with her only nieghbours within about ten miles not communicating with her at all, Jera had been rather lonely.

Worse even than that, her cousin Reuben had been admitted to hospital at the start of the summer, and died two weeks ago. It was sad, but it wasn't a surprise; he'd been ill for three years already, and Powell men never lived very long. Though it did mean that Aunt Amy had been over all the time and crying a lot.

All in all, it was a relief to be back at school. Of ourse she was now on a tighter leash than ever - with her Ma standing up at the front of the Hall addressing everyone, Jera knew she had to be an exemplary student. She looked on this as a challenge and a responsibility.

After the speech, Jera found herself seated with some older students who seemed to be getting along very well. Not entirely comfortable right there, she stood from her seat and moved down the table to find somewhere less awkward to sit. As she passed one of her yearmates, she noticed he'd dropped some stuff under his seat that he might not be able to see. She tapped him on the shoulder to tell him so, and was greeted with a rude and abrupt response.

"You dropped some things," she responded with a frown, pointing to the boy's belongings. "I didn't have to tell you that, you know. I was trying to help."
0 Jera Valson Step 2: Learn some manners? 112 Jera Valson 0 5


Ian

May 12, 2009 12:37 PM
Information noted in Ian's notebook regarding Jera Valson:

1: She was the daughter of the current Headmistress.
2: She was a third year in Aladren.
3: Her favorite professor, according to the yearbook, was her mother. (Ian had rolled his eyes at the time, when reading through the album. Plainly, she'd choose her mother. To not do so would be awfully telling, and while not impossible as an option, would certainly not be very wise.)
4: Voted, in previous years, as Most Bashful and Most Logical. (Ian had shared the latter title with her, so he'd been forced to extrapolate that the voting must, in some way, hold some truth to it.)
5: She had brown hair and brown eyes.

Beyond those details, Ian knew very little. Having neither a friendly manner or gregarious attitude, he'd managed to associate very little with his house mates, and even his year mates, beyond enforced class activities. Jera struck him as a quiet person, which could easily translate into associated adjectives such as brooding, plotting, secretive, or even his preferred taciturn. She was a girl, however, and as such, took a place in his newest notebook titled The Good, the Bad, and the Impossible. Currently, she was listed in a fourth category labeled a spare 'Eh'.

Ian bent to retrieve the dropped folder; it must have fallen when he'd removed his notebook earlier. After a half minute dedicated to inspecting its contents thoroughly, he pushed up his glasses and attempted to appear agreeable. He wouldn't learn much without some semblance of friendliness, he reasoned. "You're right, Jera. Sorry." The words still landed abruptly, probably due to their infrequent use from his lips.

Equally as abruptly, he dug through the basket intended to bribe Amelia with, and withdrew one of the chocolates, wrapped in a delicate gauze of chiffon and silk- two materials completely out of place being coupled with a confection, in Ian's opinion. "Have a chocolate." And, two beats later: "What do you think of this new professor being made Deputy Headmaster?"

It didn't occur to him that his question would sound suspiciously like milking a source, and considering Jera's relationship with the ultimate source of knowledge and information at Sonora, it would only be reasonable to suspect him of such.
0 Ian Step 3: Ignore silly advice. 0 Ian 0 5


Jera

May 15, 2009 12:18 PM
"You're right, Jera. Sorry," Ian apologised, though his voice was still rather harsh. Nevertheless, Jera couldn't deny it was an effort, so she forgave him. She wasn't prone to bearing grudges anyway. Then he offerred her chocolate, which again was a bit unusual.

"Um, thank you," she said, accepting the treat and folding herself into the empty seat next to Ian. She started eating the chocolate, despite there being an array of savoury food before her, and was surprised again by Ian's next question. She'd always thought he was a bit strange, and he was doing nothing to revoke that opinion.

"I think," she said carefully, not doubting that the question being asked had more to do with what she might know by dint of being who she was than to do with her own opinions, "that Professor Flatt will carry out his responsibilities well." She gave Ian a pointed look, explaining that she wasn't going to say anything else on the subject. His thoughts, of course, were a valid talking point. "What do you think?" she asked in reply, her tone light and conversational.
0 Jera Maybe I should just leave 0 Jera 0 5


Ian

May 18, 2009 12:01 PM
Ian made a brusque wave with his hand, annoyed by the obvious politesse of the answer. 'I think that Professor Flatt will carry out his responsibilities well.' What rubbish. That was no opinion at all- he frowned and resisted the urge to cross off her name entirely. He supposed (grudgingly so) that discretion and tact weren't entirely pointless traits in a person. They had their purposes, and he imagined that females, being considered second-rate to most, would need to use them more frequently. While Ian did not share the generalized opinion that women were the weaker sex (he knew the opposite to be true, what with his mother and grand-mother as prime examples), it was nevertheless a common enough thing that its influences could not be ignored.

For Ian, though, discretion and tact were unnecessary in his personal experience. Deception and honesty were the two strongest weapons in his arsenal when it came to dealing with people. Having successfully blackmailed his psychologist for years into doing his bidding, Ian knew without a doubt that his way was far more effective in getting what he wanted. It was in this mindset that he opted to respond.

"He's a plant," he answered bluntly. "I reckon the Cabinet's going to use him to keep an eye on things, but he seems kind of weak, so I don't imagine he'll be too effective."

Somehow 'friendly' and 'pleasant' had translated into weak in Ian's thoughts. Absently, he removed his thin framed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It'll be interesting, nevertheless, to see what sort of propaganda he ends up teaching. Can't be any worse than Flatt Senior, I imagine- entertaining as he was. Had running bets on who'd be sent from the room sick or crying each lesson."
0 Ian Wouldn't that involve unnecessary effort? 0 Ian 0 5


Jera

May 24, 2009 8:33 AM
Her pseudo-answer didn't seem to go down too well. Though Jera knew all about diplomacy; she wasn't going to be ruining anyone's future by saying something silly. Ian, on the other hand, didn't seem to be worrying about anyone's futures, and spoke his opinion about Henry Flatt quite plainly. It was even quite funny, the way he was so abrupt, and Jera smiled when she replied, "I don't think he's weak." True enough Henry Flatt wasn't forbidding nor menacing in any way, but he'd had an impressive history. Plus he had at least given an appearance of having control over Thaddeus Flatt - a feat no teacher had ever accomplished - and he was well connected. No, Jera didn't think he was weak. Whether he would be effective would reveal itself in time.

Though perhaps Ian didn't have a high regard for many people, because he didn't seem to think much of either Professor Flatt. Jera hoped he was joking about making bets on upset students - if he was joking then it was quite funny, but if he was being serious then he was quite horrid.

"Professor Flatt," Jera said, referring to Flatt Senior, "had some unorthodox teaching methods, which might have been outdated, but his knowledge was second to none and students usually achieved high grades in his class," she said, as always trying to be fair and see the other side of the story.

But talking about teachers was becoming dull. Not to mention there was a possibility they could head into dangerous territory. So Jera, deciding to stay, helped herself to a pasty of some sort and looked to change the subject. "I don't really like History that much, though," she confided. "My favorite is transfiguration. I'm so disappointed that I can't take Runes this year," she said with a shy smile. "I was really looking forward to being top of the class in something."
0 Jera Unnecessary? 0 Jera 0 5


Ian

May 26, 2009 5:08 PM
Jera, Ian decided, was kind of boring. Perhaps it was due to being raised by an academic, but she was entirely too diplomatic, and her follow-up conversation was full-on small talk. It was exactly the sort of thing he avoided at all costs, having neither the patience or temperament to pretend at caring. There were very few things that grated on him more than being asked inane questions about the obvious, like weather and dinner times and vague comments regarding the state of the universe. Outside of ward-casters, those traveling in the Gulf of Mexico during the summer, and meteorologists, who honestly cared about the weather? It was just silly and hugely a waste of his time.

And it bothered him how very tactful she was; how could anyone talk about Flatt the Elder and not think the man was a special kind of lunatic? Ian had liked him, no two doubts about it, but as a professor, he was entirely the wrong sort- even if Flatt had been terribly entertaining. Jera, it seemed, lived in a special place where politesse was a Pavlovian response to any comment requiring the rendering of an opinion.

Ian sated some of his irritation by helping himself to seconds of the asparagus. Nothing soothed him quite like vegetables.

"Grades are irrelevant," he declared after finishing his second bite. "They're hardly a trustworthy gauge on one's knowledge of a subject. Maybe you're a bad test-taker, maybe you dislike public speaking- maybe you don't particularly care to spend all your free time bent to a parchment discussing the finer points of ashwinder tongues. You're plenty clever as it is. A class level isn't going to change that."

Ian's words were fairly self-serving, as his class performance was entirely dependent upon whether he was interested or not. He considered his time extremely valuable and was not about to lose whole periods of his life to discussions about pygmy puffs. "Runes would have been a decent sort of subject to study, I'll admit. Its practical applications to the insurance industry aren't explored nearly enough."
0 Ian Funny, I don't recall stuttering. (^_^) 0 Ian 0 5