Professor Light

November 19, 2011 12:00 AM
“... okay, seriously, where is my wand?” Tipping precariously over the cliff of Frantic, Caesar dropped to his knees, palms pressed against the floor, his fingers curling, bending to peer anxiously beneath his desk. “Come on... don’t do this to me!” Anora’s letter, like all of Anora’s letters, had come at a bad time for him. ‘Yes, fantastic. You had another baby. Yes, fantastic. Your husband is amazing. Yes, fantastic. Your life has turned out exactly the way you wanted it to.’ He had spent all night last night outlining a lesson that centered on how to make letters implode once the desired recipient held the envelope in their hand. After a few drinks his temper was calmed and his sanity had been restored, but while he wasn’t quite drunk, he was tipsy enough that he had struggled to remember exactly how the Sobering Charm was pronounced. Too afraid of oversleeping (again) he had made his way to his classroom late last night, and spent the entire morning planning an appropriate lesson, grateful that he hadn’t had a first period class.

Checking the clock, Caesar gave up on searching for his wand and decided to use the remaining twenty minutes of agonized freedom re-outlining his lesson so that he wouldn’t have to demonstrate the appropriate wandwork. Rising to his feet, Caesar straightened only to slump back into his chair. “Oy!” Springing up a second later, Caesar turned to stare at the seat that had burned him. “For merlinssake...” He was wearing his robes backwards, and had sat on the pocket holding his wand. Caesar paused, straightening fully, his back stiff, his shoulders tensed and raised. Taking a deep breath through his nostrils, he filled his thoughts with anger. ‘HateAnorahateAnorahateAnorahatehatehateAnora!’ He let out the breath through his mouth, his lips parting just slightly, and all the hate, anxiety, and nervousness were drained. ‘Got nothin’ but love.’ “Alrighty then,” Turning his silver robes around, Caesar pulled out his wand (undamaged) and began cleaning up the traces of fatigue on his face, the wrinkles on his robes, and neatened his desk. “Okay, okay, okay...”

Muttering senseless, semi-positive words, Caesar got ready for his Intermediate students. He’d had them for a week, but wasn’t really sure what he thought of them yet. He’d gone to a slightly bigger school when he was a kid, so he was used to classes that were divided between each and every year. At Sonora he had to evaluate the difference in education that the third, fourth, and fifth years had. After going over the spells they’d each already learned, looking for overlapping gaps, overlapping connections, Caesar figured hoped was guessing that his lesson for today would satisfy all three years.

“Hey, afternoon!” Caesar welcomed the incoming students as the clock finally caught up to where his mind had been for the past ten minutes. “Drop your essays on my desk before you take a seat, por favor.” Having been a victim of a love potion once - ‘HateAnorahateAnorahatehatehateAnora!’ - Caesar was wary of any and all potions and charms that manipulated the emotions of another human being in any way. He’d had the Intermediate class study Cheering Charms, taught them the incantation Laetissimus because he didn’t believe in withholding information out of fear, and then gave them an excerpt of his dissertation to read where he outlined how simple magic commonly perceived as harmless could potentially lead to the three Unforgivable Curses. For example, Cheering Charms leading to the Imperius Curse. Using his own dissertation as a resource, as well as three other text resources where one supported and the other two contradicted his opinion, he asked them all to write an essay on where they thought the line should be drawn in teaching magic, if any.

Waiting for everyone to settle down in their seats, Caesar glanced over at one of the full length mirrors he had propped up against the wall, pleased to see that the previous blood shot pupils, circles under his hazel almond shaped eyes, and the lifeless character of his honeyed brown hair was all gone, his midnight spells and energizing potion proving successful. “As you know, these two terms we’ll be focusing on the practical applications of charm work in the most frequently occurring scenarios. For example,” There was an indiscernible twitch of his wand, and on several desks life sized mannequins of various appearance fell with hard thumps and convincing shrieks of pain emitting from their unmoving mouths. “Having to heal yourself, or another.” Each mannequin was damaged in some way; a few had broken noses, split lips, legs twisted at odd angles, fingers spread out further than what was normal, hanging limply from their tiny sockets, what looked like blood running from infected ears, and gashes across a thigh and a chest.

“The first spell I want you all to practice is Tergeo.” Caesar pronounced it, Tur - jee - oh. He repeated the spell, this time moving his wand in a half crescent shape, watching the blood on a mannequin clear away. “Point it wherever you see blood. You have to clean the wound before you can properly treat it.” He kept his wand pointed steady at the same mannequin, fixing on the nose that the blood had gushed from. “Episkey is the second spell I want you all to practice.” He repeated the spell Eh - pis - kee without wand movement, just holding his wand-arm steady. With an audible snap! the mannequin's nose fell back into place. Caesar waited for any questions to pop up while waving his wand and letting the mannequin be restored to its previous horrific grandeur, sprawled over a student’s desk.

“I couldn’t spring for dummies for each and every one of you, but I’m glad because when applying these skills in the real world, it will be important to know how to work as a team, in a team, and to split the necessary duties. Start when you’re ready. I will be walking around the class, correcting your form.” He walked through the classroom as his students partnered up, fingers running through the thick volume of hair he had, falling to pull idly at his earlobe. 'I'm a teacher... huh. Who saw this coming?'
Subthreads:
0 Professor Light Sticks and Stones {3-5} 0 Professor Light 1 5


Arnold Carey, Aladren

December 10, 2011 5:41 PM
Arnold fidgeted slightly in his desk before Charms, doodling a very bad picture of a Snitch on the edge of the first page of his textbook. Arthur liked to arrive to classes early, and Arnold usually came with him to make sure he didn’t actually end up being late, but then he usually got bored waiting on class to start. He’d talk to people sitting around unless they were visibly against this, and doodle, and otherwise kill time, but he didn’t really like to; if he did something, he wanted to be really doing that, and you couldn’t even really have a conversation in the few minutes between classes.

He was thinking about the essay he’d just handed in, aware it was probably going to be one of those grades he got a slightly disapproving note from home about, and at the same time about Quidditch practice when the lesson began and didn’t really follow everything Professor Light was saying until, out of nowhere, there was screaming. He looked up and all around him, startled, as the dummies fell to some desks, and looked at the one nearest to him with something between revulsion and intrigue as he noticed why it was screaming. That was…Well, he’d gotten hurt his fair share of times, so had all the other boys, but he wasn’t used to seeing it quite like that. Usually, whoever was hurt was bundled up to a room very quickly, and when everyone else saw them, they were mostly back in one piece again.

It made a certain amount of sense to him, studying the spectacle, why Arthur fussed so about his lack of concern for Bludgers. He didn’t get in that shape during games, but he guessed it was about how he must have looked after the unfortunate incident with the window.

For once, then, it was easier than usual to concentrate on the lesson and pay careful attention to how the spells were supposed to work and sound and how his wand should move and all that without having to wing it and steal glances at the work of those around him to be sure he knew what he was doing. He even took notes. This was something he could actually use and probably would have need of sometime, if no one was around at a bad time; Arnold didn’t have a lot in the way of introspection, but he had noticed that he was pretty good at getting himself into situations where a knowledge of some basic Healing charms was a good thing to have to hand.

He didn’t have one of the ‘patients’ on his desk, though, so he turned to the nearest person who did with what he hoped was a charming smile. “Mind if I work with you?” he asked. “I can work on the bones.” Since he usually ended up breaking or at least cracking things more than he ended up bleeding, or at least he thought so. Having that thought also did make him wonder if maybe he should be more careful, but then he dismissed it. It sounded worse than it was, he was sure of that. Otherwise, he’d most likely be very dead by now. There were family jokes about it, but he was sure that even Carey luck could only carry anyone so far.
0 Arnold Carey, Aladren Hey, this is great! 181 Arnold Carey, Aladren 0 5


Sara Raines, Pecari

December 10, 2011 6:19 PM
That morning, Sara had stood before her mirror for a long moment, looking herself over, before she gave the pretty reflection an only slightly hesitant nod, smoothed her blue dress and green robes and long brown hair all one more time, and went out to meet the day. Her cheekbones looked too prominent to her, her body too long for itself somehow, her hair impossible when she looked in the mirror now, but she could still see when she looked as good as she was going to for a certain day.


It was absolutely, she thought, absolutely ridiculous that just now, when she was fourteen and reasonably popular and had everything coming together for her at her fingertips, that she had to start feeling plain and awkward, but it did, at least, make her feel a little better about the lesson for the day in Charms. Or the lesson made her feel a little better about it, one or the other. She was too short, her coloring wasn’t very good, her bones had turned clumsy and strange without much warning, and she had never been, in her opinion, properly poised, but she, thank Merlin, was a perfect beauty on her worst day compared to those poor dummies on the desks. What on earth could happen to someone to make them look like that?


Suddenly, though she’d never been someone to write them off altogether in the first place after all the murmuring she’d heard about the complications of a family with a female heir who, well, also happened to be Catherine, Professor Levy’s Defense classes began to seem far more relevant.


Just as quickly, her moment of stunned vanity when she’d noticed what had fallen turned into something like pity for the poor things. She knew it was silly, they were just medical dummies, there were probably dozens like them at the hospital and the professor might have even bought them from her family, but Sara had been the sort of little girl who was very attached to her dolls and still kept them, occasionally even taking one down if she was having a very bad day. She found herself wanting to clean these up and wrap them in blankets and hide them from stupid boys, who were terribly drawn to any dolls unfortunate enough to be in the general area of them.


Instead, she forced her eyes up to meet Arnold Carey’s and gave him a bright smile to match his own. She did not know the Carey twins well at all, but they mixed with enough of the same people that she knew she should, so now was as good a time as any to get a little better acquainted with this one.


“Very useful for a Quidditch player, I’d think,” she said when Arnold offered to work on the bone-knitting spell. She had gone to the games because of her friendships, and knew something of Arnold’s propensity for getting into harm’s way as well as the Snitch’s. “I’ll work on Tergeo, then.” Which was the one she was more likely to use, as an eventual wife and mother, so that all worked out very neatly. Though she supposed she’d have to know both spells eventually, for the exam and also practical reasons. “Are you having a pleasant day, Mr. Carey?”
0 Sara Raines, Pecari That's a matter of opinion 0 Sara Raines, Pecari 0 5


Arnold

December 23, 2011 1:32 PM
Arnold had honestly not thought of how useful this spell could be for a Quidditch player, and he blinked, surprised, at Sara’s suggestion. “Huh,” he said after a moment’s thought on the matter, then smiled brightly at her again. “That’s true. Thanks, Miss Sara.”

A more proper member of society most likely never would have addressed Sara so familiarly given the extent of their acquaintance, but it really didn’t occur to him as or even after he said it. She was Miss Fae’s friend, she was Preston’s friend, and they were his friends, so they were almost as good as friends already, anyway – friends-in-law, maybe, something similar to that. He called the people his aunts had married ‘uncle’ and their first names even though he was hardly familiar with either of them, because they were relatives by close association, and his father was familiar with both Catherine and Emma, being their older brother. It made sense to him, anyway, on the level of not even thinking about it.

He didn’t really notice her calling him Mr. Carey, either. It was that or just Arnold – girls could, in his system, anyway, get away with that much more easily; it was just okay for a Proper Girl he knew to call him Arnold even though he’d likely keep calling her Miss First Name forever, or at least until someone got married – and since they were only friends by association, it wasn’t overly formal. He would have let her call him Arnold, but it didn’t occur to him as very strange that she didn’t, either. “It’s a good day,” he confirmed, breaking from looking over what they had to work with to add a smile. “What about you?”

Idly, he wondered what people did if they were not having a good day, or at least an okay one, and tried to remember if he’d ever been in that position. He didn’t have a lot of bad days, or at least, if he did, he didn’t really remember them. The only times he remembered where he’d call the days under discussion unequivocally bad had all been the kinds where he hadn’t been expected to have a good day at all, and even then, he thought he’d usually tried to make the best of it once the worst of it was over.

Still, he hoped Sara really was having a good day, and that they’d both continue to have a good day once this class was over and their dummy had been evaluated for grading. Arnold often lacked the focus to go through the effort to get them, at least to the extent his brother did without seeming to try, but he did want good grades in school, so the family would be pleased with him. He squinted at a nasty-looking break and then tried, “Episkey,” to correct it.

There was a sharp sound from the dummy, then he thought it didn’t look so bad, though prodding it let him know it still didn’t feel completely even. Arnold had gone through enough scrapes that he knew more or less how things were supposed to feel and how they were not. “I don’t think it worked quite right,” he remarked to Sara. “Do you think I should try the spell again? Would that make it work right, like when you do something over in Transfiguration?” He wasn’t familiar with what, if anything, happened if Healing magic didn’t work right the first time; with his mother and great-uncle, it always did and that was all that anyone had to think about it, as far as he knew.
0 Arnold What isn't? 181 Arnold 0 5