Caesar spread his arms, azure robes rippling down his tall frame, smiling brightly through his thin hazel beard at the incoming third, fourth, and fifth years. “Welcome back from summer!” He walked around the large turkish prayer rug he’d gotten from his journey to Istanbul, visiting Italian cousins who’d settled there. “Please hand me your essays,” Over the summer they’d been instructed to write a fifteen hundred word essay on parchment comparing the various forms of magical transportation and taking a stance on which they believed was the most efficient method, the safest, and which was easiest to perform or create. “and your extra credit if you did it.” A simple creative piece or memoir about the summer they’d spent. “Good to see you all.” He continued smiling, past tortures flooding his memory, delighting his mind.
“Now we’re going to get right into work, a project that will consume most of the semester.” Caesar dumped the essays handed to him on his desk, briefly counting them to see if he’d gathered everyone’s. Sometimes it almost disappointed him that everyone at Sonora seemed like such good students. No one to do battle with, argue against, a fallen student he as the shining professor could lift up and save. And no detentions to serve, that was the biggest bummer of all. “Over the summer you should have all included magic carpets as a form of transportation. Can anybody list for me some of the types of charms needed to create one?” He waited for his students to list Levitation charms, Navigation charms, and Weight Capacity before nodding and moving on. “Okay, good. Everyone, gather around the carpet. There’s enough room for us all.”
The classroom had always been sizeable, but seemed nearly endless with the adjustments made specifically for the intermediate class. The posters of favored Italian Quidditch and California Quodpot players had remained, flying in and out of neighboring scenery, as well as the picture of Caesar parents in one photograph and his sister Ava Marie in another. The book shelves had been raised off the floor, however, lining most of the classroom walls, stretched out to compensate for the levels of shelf missing underneath. The semi-circle of wooden stairs and seats made to look like a seminar had also been temporarily removed, leaving the classroom with light streaming through the windows, and posters of his favorite wizard bands nodding to the beat of music only they could hear. The floor was now free to breathe, save for the shoes covering the students’ feet, Caesar’s desk, and the nine by thirteen turkish prayer rug laid to rest on the ground.
“This course will cover all methods of transportation. By the end of the year I hope to have you all making portkeys. We’re going to be starting with carpets, which remains the preferred method of flying in the East despite the increasing westernization there with the European companies attempting to export their brooms.” He looked fondly on the carpet he’d bought. Besides the vivid vision of red and gold patterns that twisted, curved, curled to paint a picture, tell a story, it also held the hands of the women who’d made it, and the bright smile and exuberant hand motions of the man who’d sold it, and it held the hot mediterranean sun that Caesar had hid from, leaning against cold stone and drinking apple tea with newfound Turkish friends and merchants who were patient with him, patting his shoulder and helping him to enjoy the process of finding the perfect carpet.
“Third years, you’re going to be responsible for casting one of the levitation charms. This is more than a simple wingardium leviosa.” He flicked his wand at one of the shelves, a silent Accio bringing a small empty dish into his free hand. “Proficiscor!” He made the shape of a crescent moon, starting with the top and then curving down and then a sharp drag down the air as if the moon had a string pulling it at the bottom. There was a flash of violet light and then Caesar pulled his hand away. The dish began to fall. Inches before crashing, Caesar parted his lips. “Ascend!” The dish ceased its fall, rotating above the ground, as if caught in space. “The carpet will not lift off the ground until you proclaim the key word. To cast the spell correctly - fourth and fifth years step away for a moment - to cast the spell correctly, I want the third years to group around each corner of the carpet. Good.” He repeated the crescent motion with a sharp downward drag, and then the pronunciation of the charm, Pro - fik - is - core. “You must keep in your mind the code we will use. It is important that you all keep the same code, Ascend. It could be any word of course, it could be beans or chocolate or something completely nonsensical. As long as the word is connected to the spell. We shall use Ascend.”
“Fourth years, you shall work on weight capacity. We need the carpet to be able to hold all of us without collapsing. Today you will learn Fulcit vestis which is a spell specific to carpets or rugs, blankets, or any garment.” Caesar stepped between students and pointed his wand at the rug. “Simply point, your arm must be straight and locked, very stiff. You will feel something akin to... I’d say a shudder. Maybe a ripple going through your body. Very mild, nothing dangerous, it shouldn’t hurt although it is common for inexperienced wizards to feel a little drained after casting the spell a few times.” He indicated dishes of candy squeezed comfortably between books on his shelves. “Take a break, take a chocolate if you need to. It will help immensely.” He resumed his position. “Spread your feet apart, take a strong stance, bend your legs. This charm borrows our strength, mimics it, gives it to the rug, and then returns what it has copied back to our bodies. It is an odd sensation. Fulcit vestis!” Blue light streamed from his wand tip, a ripple of invisible energy passing from Caesar into the wood, through the light, into the rug. Something like a black bruise appeared on the rug where Caesar’s spell had hit it, appeared visible for a few seconds, and then disappeared. “If that bruise doesn’t appear then the spell hasn’t worked, hasn’t strengthened the rug. Go around, mindful of your neighboring third years, and practice the spell on your own spots of carpet.”
He turned to his oldest students. “Fifth years, you are in charge of navigation for today. Ideally we’ll all be able to take a ride, and when we do I want us to have the ability to steer. Before we can steer, the carpet needs to understand the concept of direction. So we must teach it.” He rolled back his sleeves, and summoned the still rotating dish to him again, stepping away from the third and fourth years gathered around the rug. “Cast Septentrionalis on the northern side,” He pointed, a portrait of his favorite philosopher Dalia Torrez grinning on the wall. “Austellus on the southern side,” He pointed, Arizona light pouring from the window. “Vesper on the west and Ortus on the east.” He directed them to both. “The wand motion is the same for all. A clockwise circle,” He demonstrated. “State the incantation and then counterclockwise circle. Septentrionalis!” The rotating dish stopped still in the air, blue light pulsing around it before seemingly absorbed. “Austellus!” Orange light pulsing, absorbing, done. “Vesper!” Purple light pulsing, absorbing, done. “Ortus!” Green light pulsing, absorbing, done. “Any questions?” He raised his voice for the class. “Alright, get to it!” He began to walk around the class, ready to offer his assistance to anybody who needed it. ‘Another fun year. Welcome back, all.’
ooc: Since there are no assigned partnerships and everybody’s just walking around, feel free to post as if this were a quidditch thread, with everybody contributing and interacting with whom they would like so long as you are clear where you are and when. And without having to wait for posting order, just reply and post when you can. Any questions IC or OOC just tag Caesar, remember to write your house so I know whom to give points to, and have fun!
Subthreads:
Snakes on a plane by Sullivan Quincy, Pecari with Jhonice Trevear - Pecari, Sullivan Quincy, Sully
That's Where I Am by Maximilian Joshua McLachlan with Renée Errant {Crotalus}
I prefer the old world usually by Fae Sinclair, Crotalus with Arnold Carey, Aladren, Fae
Yay! Let’s explore! by Katrina (Kitty) McLevy - Aladren
Sounds frightening. by Valerie Lennox, Crotalus
Fine with me. I need out of this one. by Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus
0Professor LightA Whole New World {Intermediate}0Professor Light15
Sullivan was not an ideal student on the best of days. Returning after a long summer, barely able to remember a simple wingardium leviosa (no, really, he'd tried to use it last night to put away some of his things, but he'd forgotten the second word of the spell and had to look it up), the third year Pecari had little hope of excelling in today's class.
When he was asked to turn in an essay as soon as he arrived, it got worse. He had totally forgotten about the assignment. He scrawled out a quick statement about magical transportation as they were being collected with his name at the top and a single sentence ("Flying wagons and are more uncomfortable than brooms but hold more people.") as his 'essay' and hoped he'd get maybe a Dreadful instead of the guaranteed Troll for not turning in anything. He doubted it, though.
Especially since that one sentence hadn't mentioned magic carpets, and Professor Light seemed to have expected them to bring up magic carpets. Even given more time and words, Sully wasn't convinced he would have thought of them. He'd really only run into flying wagons and brooms so far. He'd heard about portkeys and floo powder, in a vague sort of way, too, so he probably would have gotten around to mentioning them at some point, but until just now, he had thought magic carpets were just something Disney made up when they animated Aladdin.
He kept his hand down as they were quizzed about the types of charms that went into creating one, though he felt kind of dumb when someone said levitation charms because now that he knew that was one of the answers it seemed obvious. He didn't feel as bad about not knowing the other two.
Sully reluctantly moved in around the flying carpet when everyone was instructed to do so. He really wasn't good with flying things. He'd pulled an A in Flying Lessons, but that wasn't saying a lot. It just meant he had managed not to crash and die while making a tedious and ungainly trek from one end of the Pitch to the other and back. Even if Jhonice hadn't been on the Pecari team already, Quidditch was not in his future.
He was glad there were a fair number of other third years in the class, because he was sure if levitation was solely up to him, the rug would never leave the ground. He really wished it was just a simple wingardium leviosa because he could do that one, most of the time, when he remembered the words for it.
A more complicated one that required him to think of a different word entirely while saying freaky latin words at the same time seemed well beyond his capacity. Still, he wasn't stupid enough to make a fuss about it, and tried to remember what he was supposed to say and think.
Unfortunately, he lost track of the latin word while the professor went through what the older kids were supposed to do. It started with the letter p, he was sure of that.
So when they were told to start, Sully sort of half listened to what the other third years were saying and then joined in with crescent-like sweep of his wand and a shout of "Prosthetics!" and all the while he thought, *Up!* because his brain had translated the more difficult English word to a simpler one and he had spent most of his first year shouting that at brooms to get the same desired effect.
The bit of carpet he was aiming at didn't so much as lift its fringe a little.
0Sullivan Quincy, PecariSnakes on a plane0Sullivan Quincy, Pecari05
Jhonice had naturally arrived for Charms class early. She had learned however, if she got into the classroom first everyone else would decide where they wanted to sit relative to her, instead of her deciding where she wanted to sit relative to them. So, she waited in the hallway, causally hidden and watched the other students arrive. She had been debating if it was time to enter herself, after all if she waited to long all of her options would be gone, when she spotted Sullivan. She grinned to herself and discretely followed him into the classroom.
She handed in her essay when the teacher asked. It had been an interesting exercise, and more thought provoking that she had initially thought. There were quite a few details to take into account. For example a broom was much more quiet and stealthy for more covert and long-term surveillance operations, while the portkey wasn't much good for following a subject but made for an excellent escape method should you be detected. The flying wagons were much to noisy for most applications, except for trapping your subject for a long-term interview that they could not escape from. There were many more points along these lines, and she was sure that Professor Light would appreciate her analysis.
As the professor directed the students she scribbled a quick few notes as to what they were doing, then looked around for Sullivan again. He had moved to one corner of the carpet, so naturally she moved to the same corner and gave him a large, friendly smile. She then turned to the carpet, “Proficiscor!” she commanded while mimicking Professor Light's wand motion and keeping the command word 'ascend' in her mind. She was rewarded with a similar, but not quite as bright, flash of violet light.
Charms was a great class, she was already getting some ideas for how she could use this one in particular. Sully seemed to be having some difficulty, the clever Pierce, trying to feign incompetence to strengthen the charade of his lineage. She would play this round with him, she would show him that he couldn't hide from her. "I think your pronunciation is a little off, try it again."
2Jhonice Trevear - Pecari...and Bugs on a Carpet?209Jhonice Trevear - Pecari05
Classes had finally begun and Josh was looking forward to Charms; to any class, really. He was at a new school aiming to do well in his studies like he had before. He had been at the top of his class back at The New Zealand Academy of Magic; he aimed for the same here. He packed his things, encouraged by the prospect of having a distraction from his thoughts about his situation, and slung his bookbag over his shoulder and made his way down the corridor.
The fourth-year had arrived at class early and he took a seat in the back. Quiet with an aura of distrust around him, he didn't like to talk to people voluntarily and found it hard to trust people. As a McLachlan, he had been exposed to hardships nearly all of his life, beginning at six months old. The McLachlans themselves, no matter where they were located, were known for their dark magic. Several times, quick cover-ups had to be made for relatives, and other times, relatives "disappeared" after doing a horrible deed either against the family or by becoming the weakest link and refusing to be strengthened. That was part of the reason why Josh was back in America and going to school here. The fact that he wasn't out of school yet had saved him, so he liked to believe.
Five minutes into his brooding, class finally started and Josh readily paid attention, his sharp grey eyes intentionally appraising his professor as he appraised everyone. He didn't have the essay everyone else did as he had just been accepted to Sonora only a month and a half ago. He felt the loss sharply and he kept his face carefully blank as always. He would make it up. He always found a way to. During the rest of the lecture, he did as he was told; he was good at that. He stood at the edge of the carpet but towards the back of the crowd, hands in the pockets of his robes, looking over the heads of the younger ones.
When he and the rest of the fourth-years received their task, he was ready to do it. He took his wand out of his pocket; 13", red oak, phoenix feather. He had a very personal attachment to his wand; it had been, and still was, the only constant in his life besides his intelligence. It was something he could use to control other things, such as his magic. His wand had become, as for most other wizards and witches, an extension of himself.
When he approached the carpet in order to charm it, the spell in his head, he pointed his wand at the carpet and did exactly what the professor had instructed them. He took these lessons very seriously. He stood as he would during a duel, except became much stiffer. In a duel, one had to be pliant, flexible; now, he imagined his arm becoming a rock and traveling down to his entire body.
"Fulcit vestis." He felt the shiver, felt the magic travel through his body and watched his wand emit a blue light similar to the one Professor Light's wand had produced. A bruise appeared on the carpet and Josh relaxed, rolling his neck. The ripple that had gone through his body was uncomfortable and slightly unpleasant the first time around. However, he felt more than capable to continue doing this spell and he was determined to be the top of his classes again. Determination required a strong will and plenty of magic, and he had an abundance of both. Taking his stance once again, he uttered the charm quietly, but confidently, "Fulcit vestis." His wand understood and emit the blue light once again towards the carpet.
19Maximilian Joshua McLachlanThat's Where I Am184Maximilian Joshua McLachlan05
“Hello, Professor.” Renée smiled at Professor Light, heart thudding a little erratically in her chest, face flushing beneath the thick coat of sun layering her darkened skin. She’d labored over both the essay and creative writing piece she’d prepared for him, rewriting the essay three times before she’d deemed her cursive acceptable to his hazel eyes. Along with brooms, floo powder, portkeys, magically enhanced automobiles, magic carpets, and magical creatures, she’d added a time-turner and wrote that out of all the transportation techniques, an object that could enable one to travel as many times as they wanted without losing any time had to be the most efficient use of travel. She was hoping for bonus points on that one, or at least some sort of extra acknowledgement from the professor, public or otherwise. The creative writing piece she’d written was a short memoir of her time spent with her father’s muggle family in Brooklyn and about learning about the different religions muggles held, the warmth she felt singing the hebrew prayers even though she was singing it to a God she held no faith in.
She idly wondered if it was possible Professor Light was muslim, stepping at his instruction toward the edge of the prayer rug spread along the room. Her dark eyes reflected the red and gold hues, tilting her head to discern what the pattern made. She’d become fascinated with details, finding clues within color and numbers. It kept her occupied, distracted her from whatever looks she seemed to earn inadvertently from her fellow students. “Weight capacity,” She raised her hand even as she spoke the answer, lowering it again as the professor moved on with his lesson. Weight had been a slight issue last year, the rapid amounts of food she was used to consuming finally catching up with her slowing metabolism and the muscles that lined her stomach and arms bulging in her body and making her look bigger than she’d been comfortable with. The weight had finally settled, however, distributing itself in new areas, her body curving beneath the robes wrapped around and tied with a string that made it slightly more form fitting.
She stepped away from the carpet and waited with the other fifth years for their instructions. The fourth year’s spell looked interesting. She imagined herself in such a strong stance; wand raised and eyes narrowed, jaw clenched but insults ready to slip past her parted lips in defiance against her enemy. The world, often, seemed to be her enemy. Professor Light finished instructing the third and fourth years and turned to Renée and the rest. She shifted in her stance, eager to get started. “Sep... ten... tri... on... alis.” She repeated his pronunciation. “Septentrionalis.” She rounded the carpet, placing herself on the northern end, reaching for her curls, falling past her shoulder, approaching waist length, and gathered them into a ponytail, letting it relax in a wild heap down her front over her shoulder. She tugged her right gold earring free from a stray curl wrapped around it and reached for her wand, drawing it out from her robe’s pocket.
“Septentrionalis!” No flash of blue light. Renée shook her head, rueful smile playing on her lips. ‘Wand motion, duh.’ She made a clockwise circle in the air, then moved counterclockwise. “Septentrionalis!” She stumbled a little on Sep - ten-t-t- trionalis, but a flash of blue-shaded white light emitted from her wand tip and the carpet seemed to absorb it. She bit her lip, looking up to see if Professor Light noted her improvement. People were moving around the carpet. Renée stepped to the side, bumping into somebody’s back. “Oh,” Her forehead creased, dark brow raising in confused curiosity. No intermediate should have looked unfamiliar to her. “pardon.” She turned from the boy and prepared another spell, softly murmuring the syllables beneath her breath before she prepared to try again. “Septentrionalis!” A light laughter of triumph, the white flash of light shaded with a brighter hue of blue. Nearly there.
0Renée Errant {Crotalus}How are you liking it?0Renée Errant {Crotalus}05
Fae was not necessarily a fan of the Charms Professor as she was with Professor Brockert because his methods of teaching were peculiar and not always something she honestly believed to be the best thing, but she enjoyed Charms and often feigned like of him just because this was one of her top performing classes. So, with this thought in mind, Fae greeted Professor Light with a smile and a ‘Good Morning’ before looking around the classroom… or what was left of it. Fae internally sighed. If this lesson was how she thought it would be, there was no way for her to have a private chat with Sara like she had planned. Instead, Fae found her friend and in a whisper said, “I need to have a talk with you, we’ll set something up.” Before wandering back into the throngs of students.
In the middle of the room laid a carpet and Fae wasn’t sure what to make of it. She knew that they were learning ways of transportation, but she wasn’t sure why they needed to practice this with a carpet. She had done her essay at the beginning of summer along with the extra credit and all her other assignments because her mother hadn’t wanted school work to impede on social events and family gatherings. She knew from the assignment that Flying Carpets were a form of transportation in places like India, but it was not here in America, so she did not see the purpose of learning how to make one fly. Fae’s choice of transportation had been through Floo. The powder wasn’t difficult to make or come by as her tutor had explained and could bring you to any fireplace connected within the limits of the country. For traveling over oceans, Fae had said portkeys were best. They allowed for multiple people travel without any real harm and portkeys were a spell that could be learned with time. Now, Fae knew most people would probably think Apparation to be the best form of travel, but Fae had heard horror stories about Apparation. It was a difficult form of magic and could lead to serious harm. After Shelby had turned 17, she had begun her studies into it and had nearly scared herself into not doing it out of fear of splinching. However, she had passed the examination without trouble. It was enough for Fae to question the need for it.
That was neither here nor there, really. It was clear that the Professor thought that carpet flying was an important way of travel. To Fae, it was like brooms. Pointless unless you’re playing a game. In America, brooms were not the best way of travel unless it was down the road of a magical town. America was far too populated with Muggles that if one were to see someone flying on a broom, the Salem Witch Trials would begin again. Also, traveling by broom (or, in this case, carpet), it did not protect against the elements. Fae was from Connecticut, it became very cold at night and snow was always a possibility. A year ago, most of Connecticut had shut down because of a random Hurricane that had hit off the coast. The best forms of travel were the fasted like portkeys and floo.
She listened intently to the professor as he explained their lesson for the day. This seemed far more complicated than it should have been. Why only have one carpet? Shouldn’t there be smaller groups to a specified carpet? That way, the students would know for sure if they’re spell mattered? Being grouped and packed onto a standard sized carpet didn’t make terrible sense to Fae, but there wasn’t anything for her to do about it. She watched Professor Light intently as he worked on their spell. Arm stiff and completely straight, feet apart, bend legs, and then spell. She closed her eyes and repeated these steps in her head, blocking out any further discussion the Professor had for the fifth years. Only when he dismissed them for the lesson did Fae open her eyes to return to the chaos of the classroom. Taking a deep breath, straightened her wand arm, locking it into place, spreading her feet apart and bending her knees, Fae spoke the spell calmly and watched as blue light shot from her wand and into the carpet.
The professor wasn’t lying when he said that there would be a feeling while doing the spell. The shudder or ripple effect felt odd to Fae, almost as though she were doing the spell wrong, despite the fact that a bruise formed on the carpet. By the third spell, Fae felt so weak that she nearly fell. However, instead of falling to the floor, being cramped next to people, Fae ended up knocking into the person beside her. “Oh, pardon me! I’m so sorry.” Fae felt like this was a ritual for her. Every lesson where anything physical may occur, Fae ended up tripping or knocking into someone. It was inevitable, but she always felt embarrassed by it. And, this time, lightheaded as well.
0Fae Sinclair, CrotalusI prefer the old world usually0Fae Sinclair, Crotalus05
Josh was about to perform the spell once again when someone bumped into him and disturbed his form and concentration. He turned to look at the person and heard a girl say, "Pardon." She had looked confused on seeing him, and he understood that it was because he was unfamiliar. After four years, one was bound to recognize a face despite the fact that they didn't speak.
His grey eyes had lingered on her for longer than he realized as he watched her turn away and perform her spell. She was a fifth year evident by the different spell. However, she didn't seem to be mastering the spell quite yet. He wasn't as adept in charms as he was in potions so he couldn't exactly give her advice on what to do better. He was better at taking care of his own spells anyway.
He turned back to the matter at hand and stiffened his body once more. "Fulcit vestis." The blue light hit the carpet once again, leaving a fleeting bruise-colored spot before disappearing. He performed the spell once more before he suddenly felt a bit tired. It was probably one of the side-effects of performing an unfamiliar charm too often. He took a breath and decided to take a short break.
Josh looked over at the fifth-year girl again and watched her perform her spell again, wondering what he could do now. He hated not being occupied by something during class. He looked away from the girl and went to the bowl of sweets. He delicately picked up a chocolate and unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he gave off a brooding aura as he scanned the room of people, memorizing faces and expressions; it was something he was good at.
Sully jumped a little when he realized Jhonice had taken a position near by. His eyes widened and darted around but there was nowhere to hide. He was stuck. Worse, she had seen his less than stellar attempt to levitate the carpet. At least she had pointed out what he'd done wrong, though his pronunciation would have been his first guess anyway.
Unfortunately, he still didn't know exactly what it was that he was supposed to be saying. He was going to have to ask someone for help and Jhon was the most obvious candidate.
Well, he had tried to keep things civil at the Fair last year with her, when he'd been presenting Henrietta and trying to demonstrate he was a good trainer in the hopes of winning the Hippogriff raising competition. Today, he could try something similar in hopes of passing the lesson.
So he swallowed his pride and asked, "What was the spell word again? I forgot."
1Sullivan QuincyScorpions might be more interesting207Sullivan Quincy05
It was the first day of classes, and already Arnold’s tie had just proven itself not up to the challenge of making it from breakfast to supper, instead finding its way somehow to a comfortable spot in his bag while he rummaged through the rest of it in an increasingly frantic search for his homework. He had Arthur had done their summer work the first three weekends they were home, side by side at a table in the library just like they were every Saturday at school, and Arnold had even done the extra credit right away and without complaining because the combined disapproval of his mother and his twin if he had so much as suggested taking the easy route would have been, he’d known instinctively, too much to take, but now he couldn’t find either of the papers, neither of which he’d thought about for at least a month. It was the first day of classes, and he was already seeing his chances of a good year going up in smoke….
…Until, anyway, his brother materialized without warning, as he had what even Arnold, when he wasn’t paying attention enough to know Arthur was approaching, found to be an occasionally unnerving habit of doing, by his side and dropped the two scrolls in front of him. “Looking for these?” Arthur asked mildly, squinting good-naturedly at Arnold around his reading glasses.
Arnold felt relief wash over him as though he’d just swum out into a pool of it, a very cool pool in very hot weather. “Where did you find them?” he asked, clutching the scrolls protectively for a moment before reminding himself that they were not exactly the Deathly Hallows and loosening his grip enough to hold them normally.
Arthur gave him a strange, almost suspicious look, as though he thought Arnold was trying to be funny in some way he found utterly incomprehensible and was afraid might be directed against him. “I kept them all summer,” he said slowly. “So they couldn’t get lost.”
Arnold stared at him for a second. “You could have told me,” he said finally, his tone full of exasperation.
Arthur just shrugged, though Arnold was good enough, unlike, he’d noticed, most other people, at interpreting the small changes in his twin’s expressions to tell that Arthur was slightly embarrassed by the mess. “I thought I did,” he said, then promptly wandered off. They didn’t sit or work together often in classes, to avoid seeming either standoffish or just accidentally leaving other people out of the conversation. Their mother said they were proof that twins really did communicate a bit differently than normal siblings, and Arnold knew that they did sometimes, especially in a pressured situation like working under the deadline of a class period, drop non-essential talking. It just took longer, sometimes, even though they knew Mother thought it was weird and Anthony found it annoying.
Arnold, for now, didn’t use any form of communication, instead just handing in his work without further comment. He had his homework and his extra credit assignment with its loving descriptions of the time he’d spent in the air – indeed, once Arthur and Terry and Mother all went over the first draft, he’d even managed to work in the theme of transportation and what he’d learned about it writing his essay, which was mostly about how there was no single best form of transportation when Apparition was quick but brooms were more fun and safer, too, if all you were doing was going to Uncle Donnie’s and the carriage was necessary for many proper events – so he guessed it didn’t really matter anyway. He knew Arthur had meant well, too, which helped, even if he was still a little annoyed.
He didn’t make many comments, mental or otherwise, during the lesson, because for some reason, he came out of the speech from the professor without much of a clear picture of what was going on, just the knowledge that he was theoretically supposed to be capable of making a Portkey by the end of the year and the none-too-confident idea that the years had different spells to cast on the would-be giant flying carpet. Had his attention wandered at some crucial moment, or had he heard everything but just as promptly forgotten it because he was having a dim day, or had the lesson just been hard to follow? Or was it some combination of them all? His bet was that the setup had something to do with it, with him already being distracted with thoughts about his homework and then being crowded, standing up, with so many other people during a long speech with a lot that wasn’t applicable to him in it, but it was impossible to say, but the safest option seemed to him to be to lurk and try to figure out by watching everyone else what was going on.
With that thought in mind, Arnold slipped behind some other fourth years and watched to see what happened with them, seeing another benefit to not, despite having grown a good bit since first year, being anything close to tall. He had always admitted it was great for being a Seeker – getting taller last year had worried him a lot because he’d thought he’d lose his edge; he had yet to work out if that had been it, or if thinking it had thrown him off – but this worked, too, since he got to lay low without, as long as he had his wand in his hand, it being immediately apparent he wasn’t doing anything and didn’t even know what he was supposed to be doing, really. The only problem was that with three years worth of people all saying their incantations and moving around, he wasn’t getting much further with the issue of picking up on what he’d missed.
He just thought he had the words he was supposed to be using, or at least some words, when suddenly, or so it seemed to him, Fae stumbled into him. He caught his balance automatically and her arm nearly as much so, even though she didn’t really seem too likely to fall down in this crowd. They fit on the rug, that was true, but not very well.
“Not at all,” he said, feeling better now that he was in a situation he knew how to handle, more or less, even as he was a bit concerned for her right now. “Are you all right, Miss Fae? Did someone bump into you?” He had never had Arthur’s interest in what their mother and great uncle specialized in, but he did know it was probably a good idea to sort out if she was fainting or had been pushed before doing anything else.
0Arnold Carey, AladrenBut there's always the rest of the time181Arnold Carey, Aladren05
Oh... he was being really clever now. Sullivan was trying to get information out of her very subtly, pretending to not know what was going on just to put her to the test. Well, she could play that game as well. Jhonice smiled and accentuated each syllable of the magical command for him, "Proficiscor. The trick is to keep the command word 'ascend' locked solidly in your mind while you say it." She tapped her index finger gently against his forehead. "The spell won't work otherwise, especially if a few of these spells are being cast in conjunction. They all need to match."
Jhonice thought about leaving it there, but then she pressed her advantage. "Did you get a chance to review some of these charms over summer? There are some really interesting things that you can do with charms." She had done quite a bit of research over the summer while working on her essay and trying to figure out all the different uses for traveling charms. Now, what had he been up to over the summer? Secret Pierce meetings no doubt.
Derry's essay was nothing to write home about. It had, after all, been written at home during a rather monumental summer. He'd given a brief mention to each of the major modes of transportation - brooms, apperation, portkeys, floo, carpets, the Sonora wagons, and walking - and stated the most efficient was apperation since that could be done on command with little preparation and little time passing, but that the wagons were probably safest since that's what the school used to transport all their students around the country and he'd never heard of a wagon splinching itself.
The extra credit was written less for the extra credit and more because Hamlet made him keep a journal anyway. He figured he may as well turn it in for a second grading since he'd already written it and get a jump of his Charms grade. He could usually maintain a low E average, but if he forgot a homework later in the year, it would be good to have a bubble already.
He passed in both the essay and the journal. The journal was only a couple of pages. Hamlet wasn't around as much to make him write now that Derry wasn't living on the mountain any more. Hamlet haunted the family not the house, but he said he didn't like the city as much as the open forest. Derry wasn't sure where he was going to end up when he grew up, but he was thinking maybe further from the city limits than the rest of the Boston Pierces were now. Hamlet had raised him more than Father ever had, and Derry wanted him to be comfortable when he visited. Well, as comfortable as a ghost could be.
Derry listened through the lecture, for the most part (he did tune it out a little while Professor Light went through the third and fifth year parts), and took down the notes about what the fourth years were doing so he wouldn't forget. He didn't expect to have too much trouble with the charm. He wasn't in any danger of threatening the Careys or the other Aladrens for top of the class, but he was pretty intuitive when it came to Charms. He could generally get them working within the first two or three tries.
The first try worked well enough. A small bruise appeared on the carpet and a shudder went through him. The second try worked even better and left him feeling exhausted. His arms shook and his legs felt a little wobbly.
Having earned his chocolate, Derry left his spot beside the carpet and headed over to the side of the room where the Professor had said there was candy. He waited while somebody he didn't know collected one, then took his own turn grabbing a candy bar. Then he realized he'd seen somebody he didn't know.
He did a double take. There was a person he didn't know. "Hi," he greeted. "I'm Derry Four. I don't think we've met." He gave a little tap against his House badge then unwrapped his chocolate as he added, "I'm a Teppenpaw, in fourth year."
He took a bite of the candy bar and started feeling the exhaustion lift almost immediately. "Wow, that worked better than I thought it would."
1<font color=yellow>Derry the Fourth, Tepp</font>I'm dubbing this the 'meet the new kid' thread189<font color=yellow>Derry the Fourth, Tepp</font>05
"Proficiscor," he repeated slowly and carefully. And the secret think-word was Ascend, not Up, so he was glad she mentioned that too, even if it wasn't what he asked about. "Profisciscor," he repeated again, more to himself, to commit it to memory. Ascend, he thought. It even made sense that the thinkie-word had to match for all the different charm castings to mesh right. He didn't remember the Professor saying that part, but he was willing to think that he'd just missed it.
He pointed his wand at the carpet one more time, sweeping it through the half-moon and casting "Profisciscor!" and thinking, not simultaneously, because his brain wasn't that coordinated, but only a few moments later, *Ascend!*
Sully's attempt was rewarded with a little twitch in the carpet's fringe. He was happy with that.
Turning back to Jhon, he grimaced a little at the thought of doing work over the summer. His old books had been thrown in the closet. The new ones had been thrown into the bottom of his trunk, the first things to be packed for the current school term. Not even one of them had been cracked open. "Nah, I was busy playing video games."
0Sullivan Quincy, PecariI was just thinking a lot of girls would scream0Sullivan Quincy, Pecari05
The chocolate was melting in his mouth, his thoughts clouding his brain as his sharp eyes scanned the classroom, and then a boy came to the sweets dish as well. Josh kept an eye on him, an old habit. He had been taught to never let his guard down or suffer the consequences of a surprise anything. Josh saw the double take out of his periphery before his classmate spoke up. He made eye contact with the boy and nodded.
"Joshua McLachlan, Aladren. I'm a fourth-year as well." His Scottish-tinged-with-Australian accent was strange and always earned him curious looks. He watched Four's face for any sign of curiosity or judgment. He saw Four visibly relax as he ate the chocolate. It was obvious that chocolate would help relax. Its properties helped raise the sugar level and blood flow temporarily, causing one's body to go back to normal. He had always wondered if chocolate had magical properties in itself, but muggles also ate it. So she had told him.
Josh looked back out at the crowd. The feeling of avoiding large, talkative crowds at a party by hiding at the refreshments table came to him. He wanted to go and perform more charms. He looked at Four. "I suppose I'll be meeting all the fourth years soon. For now, I'm going back out there." It sounded like he was going to war or something, and Josh shut his mouth. Instead, he looked at Four, grey eyes inadvertently appraising as always, and then stepped back into the fray of students. He steadied himself once again, stone cold both in mind and body and heart. If he was to make any acquaintances here, it would have to be by their persistence. He was here to study magic. "Fulcit vestis."
There was nothing Josh could say he regretted up to this point in life. For the most part, he had been moved against his own accord. It was the normal way of life for him and he didn't see anything he could do about it until he became "of age." Then he'd be kicked out of his uncle's house and be forced to accept the independence he had been practicing without their help. If only he could leave the burden of the McLachlan name and its dark history that accompanied it. If Four was an American pureblood, he would have heard of the rumors of the McLachlans who practiced dark magic. If he was a European pureblood, even more so. It was rotten, all of it.
0Josh McLachlanIt seems to have turned out that way.0Josh McLachlan05
The name sounded kinda familiar in the way names he was supposed to recognize sounded familiar, but he couldn't bring up any details to go along with it. This was normal for him and at least part of the reason he had left the mountain.
"Neat," he said in response to the information that the other kid was a fourth year, too. "We have a great group in fourth year," he promised, thinking more of the Teppenpaws than the Aladrens since that was where his experience was greatest. The Aladrens weren't bad either, though.
Derry stood up a little straighter as the other boy gave him an inspection worthy of Grandmother. He suddenly felt exceedingly guilty for not using his full name complete with branch affiliation. He hadn't mostly because he preferred Derry Four as a name and partly because he didn't quite know what branch he belonged to anymore. He had left the mountain, choosing Mom over Father in the divorce, and giving up his Pierce inheritance there, but they hadn't disowned him formally or anything.
And while he had moved to Boston and he had been associating with the Boston Pierces over the summer, they were all disowned, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to throw in with them formally yet, even if he did like most of them better than he liked most of the New Hampshire lot. Bel still scared him, though, and he didn't want to alienate Thad.
It was just easier all around to say he was Derry Four and avoid the branch mess altogether.
But maybe he should have at least said "Pierce" in there somewhere, so the new kid would at least know what family to associate him with. Of course, the three branches were as different as snow, rain, and water vapor, so without a branch, it still wouldn't tell him much.
For a brief moment, Derry took the time to consider which form of water applied to each branch. He had gotten as far as deciding California was probably the vapor since you couldn't really recognize a Californian just by looking at him. After all, there was some debate if that blond second year kid was a California Pierce or not. It would have been obvious that he wasn't in the other two branches since the Eastern Pierces were all dark haired and light eyed.
As he was thinking this, Joshua excused himself and left without waiting for Derry to acknowledge his imminent departure. "Bye!" Derry called after his retreating back, and continued eating his candy bar.
New Hampshire was snow, he decided, continuing his previous line of thought. They liked being pure, but they were really just cold.
Which meant Boston was rain, and that seemed appropriate, too. Rain was nearly as versatile as they were while still being recognizable as rain. Rain could be warm or cold, thundering or barely there, cleansing or dirty.
Having concluded his analogy and his chocolate, Derry returned to the main group, and continued casting the weight load charm, being careful now not to overexert himself again.
Jhonice watched as Sully tried the spell again after repeating it to himself a few times. He got it close, but there was still something off about it. It was his wand motion, that was it. "You need to wave your wand around a little more precisely. Think of tracing out the shape of a balloon," she curved her wand around in the half arc. "A balloon that can only float up once you let go of the string," she jerked her wand down upon reaching the bottom of the arc.
Video games? Luckily she knew what those were, Andrew had made sure of that. She honestly didn't much see the point in making little people dance around on the television device. Especially when everything would just go berserk, he had claimed that was because she was getting excited and messing up the system or whatever he would go on about. She considered herself lucky that he hadn't tried to get her to play them more often. Sully liked them, did he?
"Just video games? Did you do any traveling or anything?" She was sure he had been hanging out with the Pierces, and she would get that information. Maybe it would help if she shared some information, "I got to play with my new baby cousin. She's really, really cute."
Of course, it was Arnold who she bumped into. How many times had he caught her when she nearly fell? Or saw how clumsy she could be? At least this time it wasn’t really her fault, but the spells. Still, it was rather embarrassing that it was Arnold to see her so weak. She wanted him to see her as a girl and feminine (and maybe a little bit pretty), but not weak. Shelby said that weakness is a flaw that some men will use to their advantage while others will find ugly. Shelby had also explained that there were a select few who found such a thing charming because they liked to play the knight and rescue the damsel. Shelby told her not to be a damsel, but Fae felt like that was what she was. Always getting hurt. What else was there for her to be?
Still though, she didn’t want to seem so weak with Arnold. He already took care of her as it was and Fae took advantage of that all too often.
Being so close to him now, Fae was reminded of the peril she was currently in with her emotional instability about the boys in her year. A blush of a different sort crossed her cheeks and Fae pulled herself upright properly and then was hit by another dizzy spell. Out of reflex, she grabbed his arm to catch her balance. She did not like this spell at all. She felt so foolish. And also exhausted. Him calling her Miss Fae (something he had done since they had met) bit at her a little bit. She wished they didn’t always have to be so proper around one another. They had been friends for over three years now, shouldn’t that matter? Unless he didn’t consider her a friend, in which case, Fae felt a little empty if that were the case.
“I’m alright, Arnold, thank you.” She advised, taking a breath. “The spell is more wearing than Professor Light promised.” Fae said, sighing. “I think I might have to have a chocolate to get rid of the dizzy spells.” She warned him. Fae wasn’t much into chocolate, something she had discovered as a child. She was more of a vanilla girl and she had heard that chocolate made a girl fat, so she tried not to eat it. Except, in moments like this when she felt like she had no other option.
Oh well, it gave her an excuse to get out of the crowd. It was stifling and Fae couldn’t think anymore. “Will you walk me over there, Arnold?” She ask of him. She probably was taking advantage of him again, but she had a light breakfast and the spell wore her down, so she was afraid of falling over on her walk across the classroom.
Nah. It's the multitudes screaming that's fun.
by Sully
He corrected his wand motion as she showed him and tried casting again, "Profisicor!" He realized the word wasn't quite right even as the spell failed again. "Profisiscor!" he tried again, saying it quickly, in the vain hope that maybe Jhonice hadn't noticed the mistake. This time, the fringe and the edge of the carpet lifted off the ground.
Not bad, he thought. It was more than he'd gotten from wingardium leviosa the first day that was introduced.
"Mostly just video games," he agreed, knowing this was a good thing. There had been one trip out to California to visit Simon's family, but there was no chance at all that he would be telling Jhonice about that.
He shrugged in disinterest at the mention of a baby. He was thirteen. As far as he was concerned, video games were way better than crying creators of poop. "Karen's Sims had babies," he offered, just to continue the conversation. "Karen's my sister," he added. "She's older," he pressed, realizing that this was an opportunity to defend his case of Not Being a Pierce. "She was born before Mom met Simon, too. Like was I."
0SullyNah. It's the multitudes screaming that's fun.0Sully05
Kitty bounded happily into the room, her school robes flapping under the force of her forward motion as she gave Professor Light a brilliant smile. The short girl was ecstatic to be back and couldn’t wait to see just how much more exciting being an intermediate student was compared to being just a beginner. Now they would be able to do even greater magics. Her merry eyes swept over the room as she searched for Laurie, hoping to get a spot by him seems they hadn’t had a chance to catch up yet.
Before she could spot her friend, Kitty got distracted by the request for homework. Another happy grin curved her pink lips as Kitty fished out both the report on magical transportation, and her extra credit. It had been a lot of fun to do research for the paper and learn more about all the different methods of transportation available to magic users. Kitty quickly found a seat and chirped the answers when Professor Light asked what sort of charms were used for creating magical carpets. If they weren’t forbidden from using magic outside of school, then Kitty would have unbeatably attempted to make her mother’s living room rug into a flying carpet. It was all just so…magical!
Kitty watched, delight filling her heart shaped face when the professor demonstrated the spell she and her fellow third years would be practicing. Group magic was an area that thrilled the friendly girl and she knew that she wanted her future job to include a lot of it. Together she and her team would conduct great feats of magic that no single one of them would have been able to do on their own. She found an open place around the rug and took out her wand. Clearing her throat she mentally reviewed the professor’s wand moment and once she was sure she had it down Kitty said “Proficisor!. Her bow shape lips pouted a bit as she studied the rug, working in a group was more difficult than she thought, what if the spell didn’t work? How would they know?
“So do you think it worked?” Kitty asked the student next to her.
"She must be older if she's having babies." Jhonice replied to Sully's odd comment. She was going to have to make a note that Sullivan's older sister married someone named Simms. She'd also have to dig into this Simms family to see how they fit into the grand scheme of things. If the California pierces were letting one of their own marry into the Simms, they must be fairly important. What does Sullivan know about them?
"Are they cute babies? Girls or boys?" This was a good line of questioning, she could lead into just about any lineage inquiries from here. Except, he tried to lead her astray bringing Simon into the conversation. She knew that story well, she just couldn't understand why Sully so fervently denied it. Obviously Sully's mother and Simon met years ago and he vanished mysteriously into the night. Then later when they met again, and were brought together by the magic that Sully had inherited from Simon. The Pierce had decided to do what was right and finally help raise his son.
It was a little strange though, Sullivan usually avoided bringing up Simon. "At least as far as you know." She gave him a winning smile, someday he would have to admit it to himself. She really didn't know why he was so adamant about not being one of the Pierces.
2JhoniceYou have to start somewhere, right?209Jhonice05
Yeah, but if there's only one, it's just loud and piercing
by Sully
"What? No!" Sully exclaimed as he realized Jhon's misunderstanding. "No! Karen's only fifteen! She's not married and she doesn't have kids! The Sims is a video game, not a guy! The little characters she controls like a god are the ones having babies, not Karen!" He shuddered a little at the thought of his sister having children. Granted, his mom hadn't been more than five or six years older than Karen was now when Karen herself was born, but those were an important five or six years!
He glowered at her comment when she cast doubt upon his own knowledge of who his own father might be. The worst thing about it was that she was right. He didn't know thing one about who or what his dad might be except that he hadn't been around during Sullivan's memory. Or Karen's, which extended a little bit farther than his did. He found it mildly reassuring that Jhonice just assumed Karen was his full-blooded sister. On days they when weren't furious with each other, he and Karen held the same assumption - more out of personal preference than actual probability - but a guess and a hope was all it was based upon.
Still, he was reasonably sure his dad was not Simon. Mom had said - well, he hadn't actually asked her (he and Karen had decided between them that they weren't going to ask any questions about Dad) - but she hadn't said Simon was and Sully thought that was the kind of thing she would have brought up if it was true. And she had said Simon had only started working at the casino about ten years ago, and that she'd met him at the casino, so therefore the earliest they could have met was ten years ago. It just didn't work.
In all truth, Simon was far better than some of the ideas that he and Karen had whispered together. Sully wouldn't even mind having him for a dad, except that he liked Simon and didn't believe he was the sort of guy who would make Mom raise two kids all by herself.
Shaking his head to clear it, Sully suddenly remembered he was supposed to be levitating a carpet and shot another spell at his edge of the thing. This time, between the previous attempts and this one, and possibly the help of the other third years bombarding the carpet with their own spells, Sully's carpet edge rose an inch or two off the ground and even stayed there. "Whoa," he said in unfeigned surprise, "It's working!"
0SullyYeah, but if there's only one, it's just loud and piercing0Sully05
Erm...it's your fault the sphinx doesn't have a nose?
by Arnold
Arnold, as he thought about it, thought that the idea of the professor saying the spell might make you lightheaded actually did ring a distant bell, but that could have been his imagination still, and anyway, he didn’t think he really had the time now to think much about it. Fae had no more than seemed all right than she’d needed his arm for support again, so he was still more concerned for her well being than he was with a lesson where his performance or lack of it, by the looks of the room, was unlikely to be noticed anyway.
“Of course,” he said at once when she asked if he’d walk her over to the candy. “I guess it’s a good thing I never figured out which spell I was supposed to do, huh?” he added as they started heading in that direction, and then he was not happy to realize he’d just added that out loud.
This, he thought, was why Arthur should have been the one here, or Russell, or even Preston, since surely helping out your girlfriend’s friend was an acceptable way to interact with girls who weren’t your girlfriend. His roommates could all cross a room without saying something idiotic and then looking like a complete fool, whereas lately he seemed completely incapable of even sitting down in a desk without doing that somehow or another and then having no idea how to talk his way out of it without, at least to him, it really sounding worse.
Arnold still wasn’t sure if he’d really gotten worse about that in the past, say, six months or if he’d just started to notice more when he made himself look stupid and the stupidity happened in front of a girl, but one way or another, it definitely seemed worse in front of girls, as it was at the moment. He had the feeling girls looked him over and wondered why his family hadn’t disowned him already, or, if he was too dumb to help it, why they allowed him out in public. Fae wasn’t like that, of course, she actually seemed to not mind him too much most of the time, but for the life of him he didn’t know why she didn’t.
He conveyed Fae safely enough to the candy, anyway, and decided to stay. “It’s great stuff, chocolate,” he offered, remembering her talking before about how restricted her diet was and guessing, as incredible as it was, especially since he would have broken that diet the second he got somewhere with real food in it, that she might not have ever had any before. “Mother always gives us – “ he gestured slightly in the direction he believed contained his twin – “some with medicine, usually. She says it makes it work better. And she makes Father drink hot chocolate all the time.” Really, now that he thought about it, she almost did treat the administration of her husband’s hot chocolate more or less in the same way she treated the administration of flu potions sometimes, but he guessed that was just Mother. Everything she did seemed to have a very serious purpose, and if it didn’t she was good at making it seem like it did. Arthur had gotten that from her, he guessed. He wished he could have gotten a little of it, too, but he guessed, considering how long Arthur had been Arthur and he had been him, that it was a little late for that now.
0ArnoldErm...it's your fault the sphinx doesn't have a nose?181Arnold05
Jhonice stared at Sullivan for a moment to see if he was just pulling her leg. A video game where you controlled little people like a god? That didn't sound like the games that Andrew had tried to get her to play. In those games you just ran about killing things. Maybe he was just covering for his sister, creating a clever ruse to throw her off track. No, she would not fall for it. These Pierces were a crafty lot.
"Okay, so it's a video game where you can make families and do things with them?" She was leading him on, she could trap in him this. "How does that work exactly? Do you make them all? Where do they live? How do they meet?" She had many, many more standard questions. If Sullivan felt more comfortable answering these questions behind the facade of some sort of made-up video game, then so be it. She could work with that.
She watched as Sullivan fired off another shot at the rug and got a response out of it. "Yes! Looks like you're getting the hang of it." She turned to the rug and spoke out forcefully, "Ascend!" Her section of the rug fluttered and rose off the ground. "See, simple." She smiled at him.
Fae felt relief knowing that Arnold was going to walk her to the candy dish. It wasn’t really that far and she could have probably managed on her own, but knowing how clumsy she tended to be when her head wasn’t lightheaded, she didn’t really want to take the chances. She seemed to have the worst luck of things, more so whenever Arnold was around. She didn’t know what that said about her or their relationship, but it was the truth. She only hoped that he didn’t see her like a clumsy fool the way that she felt he must.
“Oh, you didn’t learn it?” She asked him. There was no accusation or judgment in her words, just curiosity. “This lesson feels very chaotic. Almost as though we should be in Transfiguration instead of Charms.” Fae always felt that Transfiguration had lessons that were beyond their capabilities, which made the lessons quite overwhelming to those who couldn’t really grasp it (Fae being one of them). At least, back when she was a first year, probably not so much now. Fae had always been able to excel in Charms, but this lesson was just far too much for her. With three spells and a little carpet for everyone to stand on… it was a no wonder that Arnold had missed it.
She squeezed Arnold’s arm reassuringly. “The spell itself isn’t too terrible. Our charm is to make our weight lighter for the carpet. I know the third years are doing a spell to levitate the carpet and the fifth years are navigating it or something like that.” Fae explained. “If you want, I can show you the spell. It just… drains you, if you do it too often.”
Reaching for a chocolate, Fae’s blue eyes went to Arnold when he commented on it. Fae thought it was a little odd that Arnold’s mother gave him chocolate with his medicine, but then thought differently about it after she took a bite and felt the dizziness subside almost immediately. She felt that chocolate was far too sweet, but she could at least appreciate the affects it could have on the human body. Well, the good ones anyway. Fae still wasn’t about to eat a whole bar out of fear of gaining a pound in a place that would not look good for her. She already had hips, she didn’t need anymore.
“Mother is British. We only have tea in our home. If she wants us to be watchful of how bodies, we drink green tea.” Fae took another bite of the chocolate, but feeling better, didn’t want to finish the candy. Holding it out to Arnold, she raised her brows at him, “I won’t finish this, did you want it?” He seemed to enjoy chocolate, so she didn’t seem the harm in asking if he wanted the rest of it. Returning back to the topic, Fae continued, “I cannot say that I necessarily enjoy tea the way Mother wishes I did. But I have had hot cocoa before and it was quite delicious.” She had it at a Christmas party, it was the only beverage they were serving to under age guests, so her parents had no choice but to allow her to drink it. It really was tasty.
It was with a bit of trepidation that Valerie stepped into the Charms classroom. She was slightly nervous about being in Intermediate classes in the first place, afraid that she wouldn't be able to handle the work. The third year was pretty good at spell work in general really, even though more difficult spells tired her out, but just the amount and difficulty of it all was slightly overwhelming. Plus, she'd heard stories about what the Intermediates had done in Charms last year and Valerie knew full well that she wouldn't be able to take five seconds worth of that .
She'd worked very hard on her essay and even done the extra credit, though Valerie didn't think her summer would be all that interesting to her professor. He didn't seem to be the type who was going to be all that impressed with the ailments of an immune deficient thirteen year old pureblood girl, but the third year felt she needed every extra point that she could get. Valerie couldn't help it if her summer wasn't exciting. Not everyone spent their time off of school adventuring around and she in particular could not handle doing so. She barely ever got out of her own bed , let alone went on vacation anywhere.
As for the essay, well, Valerie had a strong preference for methods of transportation that caused her the least amount of damage. Brooms were out, of course, and yes, magic carpets probably were too. With flooing, there was that possibility of dust getting in her lungs and her getting sick. For Valerie, the best methods seemed to be portkeys or side apparation, even though neither was particularly comfortable either.
Taking a stance, and arguing her view point tended to be difficult for her though. The Crotalus didn't want to be too aggressive. It was improper and impolite. Valerie had been taught to do what she was told especially by her elders. Not to have strong opinions. Besides, conflict of any kind was not good for her. So she'd been quite uncomfortable with this whole thing.
Now Valerie stood around the carpet with the rest of her classmates, still a bit anxious about what the lesson could possibly be. She relaxed slightly when she heard that they were just going to work on levitating the rug. Though she didn't quite get what the difference was between this spell and the levitating charm that they'd previously learned. At least Valerie wasn't a fourth year though, she probably be the one who got dizzy doing that charm and she wasn't supposed to really have chocolate either.
She took out her wand and practiced the spell a few times before pointing it at the end of the rug. "Proficiscor." Valerie said, as her part of the rug she was holding dropped down. It almost hit the floor before she had the chance to say, "Ascend." It hovered there weakly for a moment before hitting the floor and the third year frowned. Her next three tries didn't go any better. What if she wasn't able to do this fast enough? Her reflexes were pretty crummy and she wasn't especially coordinated either. How would Valerie ever be able to be much use on this? Her classmates were going to hate her.
...Yeah, that probably wasn't the best example
by Arnold
To Arnold’s relief, at least Fae managed to make it sound like he wasn’t a completely irredeemable idiot because he’d missed the part where he was told what to do for the day, and then she even gave him a legitimate excuse for it. She was great. “Feels chaotic?” he asked, looking around at all the people moving around on the carpet or to a candy dish. “I’d say ‘is chaotic.’ It’s like a cross between Transfiguration and Defense on the running days.”
Which were, admittedly, a highlight of the class for him. He did well in Fawcett’s classes because all you really had to do to make a potion was read right and get your brother to check any math you did and Arthur edited his essays, too, but he preferred simple and straightforward, which Defense usually seemed to be. You run, you aim, you hit something; it wasn’t that much different from Quidditch, which he was usually very good at. But it did make for a chaotic lesson, and combining it with the kind of chaos from Transfiguration, plus a rug, was a little…something, particularly when one of the spells was something that could make people faint. He frowned slightly again at that thought, too; what if he hadn’t been on hand to catch her, then? That would have been a mess.
“Thanks,” he said gratefully when she said she’d tell him what the spell was. “I – “ think Arthur might concuss me with my own broom if he figures out I’m already not following things this year – would appreciate that.” He frowned a little again at the mention of the spell being so draining. “Don’t push yourself, though,” he said seriously and, despite his record of Quidditch injuries, completely unironically.
Fae’s mother was English. Was that strange, he wondered, having your mother be from some other place? And how would that come about? He had heard life was a little different for people who traveled, who went other places besides schools and the adjacent states that contained other Careys, but had never really thought of how that might play out before, since he was still in the category of people who only went to school and to see other Careys – also a reason why he’d never really seen the point of their endless language lessons. He thought about tea.
“Mother tried to get Father to drink green tea once,” he said. “He finally found a way to drink the peppermint stuff, but Mother said it didn’t count since that was just putting twice as much sugar in it as he likes in his usual tea, so he went back to mint and ice.”
He was startled by the offer of candy, but for once came up with what he thought was a good answer. “You’d better hold on to it,” he said, “in case you get dizzy again.”
He nodded about hot chocolate being good. “I like it, too,” he said. “Sometimes. Not like Father does, not all the time, but it’s good, especially if it’s cold.” Arnold knew his definition of what kind of weather was cold was probably much different than Fae’s, he’d been to her house during the winter, but it was all that he knew well, so it felt cold enough to him in the winter at home. “We have cider sometimes, in the winter, too, but I don’t think it’s quite as good.” Particularly if you accidentally got one of the cloves and then bit down on it by mistake, but that had been an isolated incident. “It’s usually pretty good, still, though.”
0Arnold...Yeah, that probably wasn't the best example181Arnold05
The Crotalus yawned. Ever since he'd come back to school, Ryan was having a really hard time sleeping. Part of it was, of course, that the fifth year was not used to sleeping at night. He liked being up then, when nobody else was. It was just how Ryan was naturally wired. Besides, if she was asleep and he wasn't, it was safer. She couldn't bother him then.
Which was after all the main issue. The real reason that he couldn't sleep. What was once a safe haven for him was now no better than home had been, possibly less so. At least at home, his father tried to keep Carrie in line. It really didn't work very well, but still, Ryan had been at school most of the time. Now, so was she and he was back to being a prisoner in his own room, like before his parents had divorced.
That wasn't all there was to it either. It wasn't just the need to avoid the younger Crotalus like the plague-in fact Ryan would have much rather had the plague. His sister's sorting had also dredged up a lot of old memories and nightmares for him as well. Ones that her tormented him throughout his childhood. Plus, worries kept him up as well, worries about things like how to do basic things like eat and get to his classes without Carrie seeing and harassing him.
He knew that she was certain to bother others too and Ryan should really feel relieved about that, that all her effort wouldn't be focused on him. The truth was though that he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Still, the fifth year would be powerless to stop it-and truthfully, Ryan didn't like that either. He hated himself more and felt disgusted with himself but short of the Killing Curse or a restraining order, there was just no way to deal with someone like Carrie.
Furthermore, he doubted her bullying others-which would absolutely happen, there was no doubt about it-was going to prevent her from bothering him every chance she got anyway. He was just plain stuck and so was anybody else the younger girl chose to victimize. Maybe they'd be lucky and someone would step into help them, but Ryan knew that would never be the case for himself. Sophie probably was willing but he didn't want her to get in trouble or anything herself as he was worried she'd settle it with her fists. The idea of his best friend facing consequences-even possibly expulsion-because of him was downright unthinkable. Especially because the fifth year really didn't want to spend the rest of his time here without his best friend, one of the few people he felt that he could count on.
Ryan yawned again, trying to focus. He was truly exhausted and in need of a nap. The Crotalus was too tired to even worry anymore about his essay, which he'd had an extremely difficult time with, having to take a position and all. He'd never been comfortable expressing opinions or defending how he felt. Ryan had been taught to believe that such things were unimportant when they belonged to him. He just expected to be belittled. Whether his paper was factually correct or not, the fifth year was certain it would come back with nothing but criticism.
He stood with the rest of his class and looked warily at the rotating dish. Was it vesper on the east and ortus on the west? Were they supposed to cast the spells on the dish or the carpet? Ryan was confused and tired and he wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't really caught the correct pronounciation for the north side spell at all. He'd have to avoid that one all together.
Nervously, Ryan approached the rug, standing on what he thought was the west side. "Um, excuse me," he said, turning to one of his classmates. "Which spell was for over here again? Ortus or vesper ?" The Crotalus felt so stupid and embarrassed but he thought it would be far worse if he didn't know and used the wrong one. That might screw everything up completely and then everyone would be mad at him. Ryan really didn't need that right now.
11Ryan O'Malley, CrotalusFine with me. I need out of this one.176Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus05
That's okay, as long as you didn't meant it.
by Fae
Fae was relieved to find that Arnold agreed with her about the class that day. If he had said that the class was fine and the reasoning for him not catching the day’s lesson would make Fae feel silly and inadequate. Wouldn’t saying that the lesson was chaotic (or nearly so) when he felt it was simple mean that she was dense and too simple minded to handle it? Well, that’s how she saw it at any rate. So him agreeing with her put her more at ease. Well, at least when it came to the two of them agreeing on things. The lesson itself still baffled her a bit on why it had to be performed this way.
She didn’t want to think about Defense though, that class terrified her. They always had to shoot awful spells at one another or run around like crazy people. She hated that class despite knowing that it was so important. Fae felt rather slow and completely idiotic in that class, more so than she did in Potions and she was atrocious in Potions. DADA was all about skill, which Fae did not have. Potions was all about knowing how to interpret the directions and follow through with everything. Truth was, Fae often fumbled the ingredients and that’s what ruined her potions.
Fae smiled brightly when Arnold agreed to let her help him with the spell, but the smile was followed by a blush when he expressed concern. Fae really was a lightweight when it came down to things. Clumsy and unable to handle things that probably shouldn’t have affected her so. It must have been so terrible considering even Arnold had taken notice. He must think her so foolish. “I’ll be alright.” She said lightly, “Besides, you’re always around to catch me, right?” She meant that as a joke, but it actually was pretty accurate.
Fae giggled when Arnold spoke about his father. Fae had always assumed the Careys were a strict family, but when Arnold spoke of them, they seemed rather normal. And possibly a little bit fun. “I’m with your Father on that. The more sugar in my tea, the better.” Fae commented. “Mother doesn’t like that so much, so I’m only allowed two cubes. It’s quite unfair.” It was probably better that way though. Fae had once put five cubes into her tea when her mother wasn’t looking and then was so jittery for the rest of the day, she was bouncing everywhere. She never did that again.
It hadn’t occurred to her until after she offered Arnold the chocolate that it might not have been the most appropriate thing, but it had come out so naturally to her. Maybe it was because whenever she was full of something but still had food left, she offered it to her brother and he usually ate it without hesitation. She had seen her father do it with her mother’s food too. Fae gave a small shrug though, when Arnold declined and instead, closed the wrapper and stuck the treat into her pocket. She hoped she didn’t forget about it…
“We have cider around the holidays. Mother likes it better than hot chocolate and would prefer us to drink that instead.” Fae told him looking somewhat amused. Cider wasn’t quite as delicious as hot cocoa, but they were flavorful for very different reasons.
“Well, let’s talk about the charm, shall we?” Fae suggested. She figured it would be easier to explain here away from their classmates than in the midst of it. Fae used her finger as though it were her wand. She didn’t want to actually cast the spell out of worry that she’d drain herself again. “Point your wand at the rug and say Fulcit vestis” Fae instructed him. “If you did it right, you’ll like a shudder go through you, which means that the carpet is stealing your strength. A bruise will form on the carpet and then you know that it’s worked.” She felt that it was pretty straight forward, but the spell was more demanding than one would think.
“Come one then, let’s have you try it.” Fae declared, taking his hand and leading him to the carpet.
0FaeThat's okay, as long as you didn't meant it.0Fae05
“Of course,” Arnold said, as lightly as she but with some sincerity behind that, when Fae said he’d always be around to catch her. It probably wouldn’t be a literal always – if she were in the Crotalus commons, for example, there wouldn’t be much he could do, since he had only Arthur’s word for it to even have a vague, general idea of where the place was, and there was, he knew, eventually going to be the issue of what her future husband, once she had one, would think of a second-string Carey boy being as familiar with her as he was now – but today, anyway, and anytime it was needed and at least marginally practically possible, he’d catch her if she fell. What was he supposed to do, stand around with his hands in his pockets and whistle a merry tune while she fainted? Stupid. Arnold knew a Quidditch player was as close as he came to being something without being at best a mediocre and at worst a just sorry excuse for it, but he wasn’t going to do that.
“Yeah,” he said with a sympathetic grimace when Fae mentioned her mother limited the sugar and that this was unfair. Arnold wasn’t as crazy about mint as his father and brothers, particularly Arthur, were, but he did like his tea sweet. Since he usually also drank it cold, with the sugar mixed in long before it ever got to him, he didn’t know exactly how much sweetening was in it, but he was willing to bet it was more than two of the little cubes he’d seen when they did, for one reason or another, drink tea both hot and formally. “Mother makes us eat all the right portions of things – it’s inevitable when she knows all about that and there’s only two Healers in the whole family and one of them’s my great uncle – but I think she and Uncle Adam both gave up on limiting sugar a long time ago.”
For him, anyway, and Father and Arthur. Aunt Gigi cooperated because it was in her own best interests not to let her kids have sugar, and honestly, he thought they might be more strict with Anthony than they were with him or Arthur because Anthony was the heir. He wasn’t completely sure of much about Anthony’s life now, though, except that they pushed Anthony even harder than Arthur pushed himself, which meant he and Arthur rarely saw their younger brother for very long at one time even when they were home, and that their parents sometimes seemed cross with each other about whether they were right to obey the wider family – by which Arnold thought they meant the Fourth – in that matter. He knew, too, that his grandfather thought, he, Arnold, ought to be more upset about the technicality which kept him from being the heir, but the older they all became and the more he saw of what Anthony had to deal with, the harder Arnold found it to envy his brother that, especially knowing it meant one day being the eldest Anthony and having an even harder life.
Besides, to be the heir, Arnold would have had to have been born alone, and he really didn’t know how he’d get by without Arthur. Obviously other people managed very well that way, but it was like the original division of the family to him: he couldn’t quite understand it. He could no more imagine what it would be like to not be a twin than he could imagine what it would be like to not be a Carey. If he had been an only child, or just a regular first or second, depending on how you looked at it, son, he would have been as much not who he was as he would have been if he and his brother had still been twins but born instead as…as Arnold and Arthur Sinclair, maybe.
He took care to listen to the spell this time, repeating the words to himself quietly – “Fulcit vestis, fulcit vestis – and feeling grateful for Fae being willing to help him, even as he was sure she was thinking he was a complete idiot for not already knowing what he was supposed to do.
He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a carpet stealing his strength, either, Seekers were more known for energy than raw strength anyway and he was worried that this might end in him looking like even more of an idiot than he did already. Not doing it when she already had, though, would probably look even worse, so he resigned himself to trying to remember what Grandfather said about how it was glorious to keep going even when it didn’t seem possible. Grandfather had been talking about doing things like Apparating across ten states in one night or dueling, but Arnold thought it might be all right to steal the principle. “Okay,” he said, reminding himself that looking like an idiot was his natural state anyway.
He was surprised when Fae took his hand, but went along with that. It wasn’t, he told himself, that much different than how they’d been walking just a few minutes earlier. He did, though, for some reason, notice more how he was taller than her, which was a strange feeling indeed; of course he’d always noticed that he was taller than Fae, who was not very tall for a girl, but he felt taller than usual at the moment, though. Back at the carpet, he pointed his wand at it and tried the spell. “Fulcit vestis.”
A shudder was, he guessed, a good enough way of describing it; his head felt strange with it. He shook that and rubbed his temple as the rug darkened a bit, thinking that Arthur was sure to be in a foul mood by the end of class if Arnold was doing it right and it felt that way for everyone. “That is something,” he said, looking at the carpet. “I think I’ll stick to my broom and the floo, though.”