Professor Fawcett
May 29, 2009 10:59 AM
Lesson for First and Second Years by Professor Fawcett
For the first time in his quasi-career at Sonora, John was taking the same class in two successive academic years. It was not something he had expected to happen, and it caused him concern on at least two levels, but there it was: he'd been called back to fill in for Potions once more, and had accepted again.Now, here he was, introducing the first years to the art of potion-making and no doubt confusing the second years who'd already had him as a sub. Once the flow of students reduced itself first to a trickle and then to a stop, he closed the door firmly and went around the (already paper-covered; his concern that he was getting too comfortable in the room was not ill-founded) teacher's table to address his pupils.
"Welcome," he said warmly, "or, as the case may be, welcome back, to Potions. For those of you who aren't familiar with me, I am Professor Fawcett." He used his ever-handy pointer to indicate where the words Professor J. M. Fawcett, in careful print, were located on the board. "As the second years among you should know, I am also merely a substitute. Until such time as the Headmistress secures a new professor for Potions, however, I will be taking this class."
He put down his pointer, not needing it for the moment. "I realize that some of you have no experience in Potions, or lack the...aptitude for it. That's perfectly fine. As long as you follow safety regulations, act sensibly, and do the best you can, I'll be satisfied. However - " here his tone went stern; this was a matter of as much importance to him as to the school - "you will be dealing with fire and with solutions that can do you serious harm if mishandled. When you are in this lab, use caution. No running or pushing or unnecessary wielding of scalpels. Do not spill your potion on purpose, or add ingredients not found in the list. Make sure to read and follow all directions carefully as you work; performing steps in the wrong order, or with the wrong quantities of ingredients, can cause disaster."
He decided it was time to lighten the intimidation act. He had never been good at it anyway; though he was tall, John was also thin, graying, bespectacled, and usually had some variety of ink stain on his hands or clothing. Not exactly a force to be reckoned with. "There are other ways to make a mess of things here, but I will trust you to make use of common sense until you give me a reason not to," John told them, moving back behind his table to look over his normal glasses (too much bother to whip out his readers; his wife had suggested bifocals over the summer, but after how long it had taken her to talk him into getting reading glasses, he doubted Allison had been surprised by his resistance to the idea) at the roster. "Please say 'here' as I call your name. Charlotte Abbott..."
Once roll was called, John erased his name from the board and took up the chalk, this time writing down page 37. "Here, you may find your first potion," he told them, then gave them a moment to find it in their textbooks. "A simple cheering draught. It's not nearly as powerful as a good number of the mood-altering potions you'll study for RATS, but still not something to indulge in frequently. A cheery disposition might seem like a good thing, but when you are cheery at a funeral, it can cause you a number of social difficulties.
"The ingredients are asphodel root, daisy root, fluxweed, and ginger. All of these should be in a standard potions-making kit, but if you are for some reason running low on an item, there are reserve supplies in the cupboard." For clarity, he used his pointed to indicate where it was. It was always best to count on at least one student in every class being as dense in non-academic matters as he'd been at eleven during the Stone Ages. "Separate into partners, remember to be sensible, and begin."
OOC: Standard posting rules - 200 words per post, somewhere between eight and ten lines on screen, with decent spelling and grammar for a minimum - apply. Nice, detailed posts are preferred. Spills, accidents, and unsuccessful products are allowed. Have fun!
Subthreads: Sensible? What's that mean? by Jose Hernandez with Connie Jones, Jose
Is anyone brave enough to work with me? by Cassandra Kerrigan, Aladren with David Lancaster, Teppenpaw, Cassie
All I need is a cup of cheer... by Edmond Carey with Daniel Nash II
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. by Marissa Stephenson with Quentin Melcher
Re: Lesson for First and Second Years by Andrew Duell with Jethro Smythe, Jethro
A cheering potion is exactly what the doctor ordered. by Euna Song with Clarissa Marigold, Euna, Headmistress Powell
If only everyone had just a little dab of this. by Adelita Garcia (Crotalus) with Charlotte Abbott, Lita
Hassled... by Insomnia Zannicci with bridjalyn Tuppin Pecari, Anonymous
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Professor Fawcett
Lesson for First and Second Years
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Professor Fawcett
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Marissa Stephenson
June 01, 2009 9:35 PM
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. by Marissa Stephenson
One thing Marissa had noticed about the course names on her schedule was that they were all deceptive. Every single one of them looked self-explanatory, but really wasn't. She had only skimmed her textbooks, but had already realized that - contrary to her first expectations - she really was in deep over her head.As she followed Lila St. Martin, whose sparkling perfection made her feel like an unwashed dullard from the sticks, she had been caught up in thoughts about whether or not Potions was a good subject to start off her career as a witch with. On one hand, it seemed straightforward enough in her book - just follow the directions, and everything will be okay. On the other hand, she didn't know what half of the things the book listed as ingredients were and the whole thing, to her, smacked of Chemistry. The closest thing to Chem she had ever done was make a volcano in second grade, but she'd heard that it was hard.
Once Perfect Prefect Lila was gone and they were at liberty to enter the classroom, Marissa took a seat near the front, willing herself not to fiddle with the bracelet on her thin wrist. In an attempt at family bonding before she'd come to Sonora, her parents had taken her and Paige on a trip up to Charleston for a weekend and bought her the bracelet at the Market. She had worn it every day since. It wasn't valuable in the traditional sense, but it was a reminder that, witch or not, she was still part of the family. Since thinking of that already brought on a rush of homesickness, that wasn't something she needed to think about at the beginning of her first class at her new school.
As the tall, older man who'd been in the room when she came in introduced himself, Marissa opened the green, three-ring binder she had designated as her Potions notebook and wrote down Professor J. M. Fawcett under the larger words Beginner Potions on the first sheet of college-ruled paper. As he continued, she added a comma and the word Substitute after his name, then flipped over to a fresh sheet to take any notes that seemed necessary during the next part of the speech.
There were none. Everything he was saying seemed to be just common sense, and there was a list of lab protocols printed inside her textbook anyway. As roll call began, soothing in its normality, she tried for a while to copy down the names of her classmates but soon gave it up as a lost cause. They all answered too quickly, and she wasn't sure how she ought to spell some of them, either. It seemed to take forever to reach 'Stephenson'. "Here," she said, proud to note that it was in a clear voice, when they finally did.
When the professor paused and the people around her began to do so, Marissa opened her textbook and started turning pages until she found page 37. It looked easy, but she wasn't going to trust it just yet. As the lecture was ending, she added a note to the bottom of her short list: Do not take regularly. If possible, do not ingest. Whether Professor Fawcett had meant it entirely seriously or not, it would be horribly rude to be cheerful while at someone's funeral. Disrespectful, even, to the family and the dead person alike. Her parents would kill her dead if she ever did something like that.
All relevant points of the lecture and the location of the extra supplies noted, Marissa turned her attention over to her station-mate. It seemed logical for them to pair up to complete the assignment instead of tromping around looking for partners and wasting work time. "Have you ever done anything like this?" she asked.
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Marissa Stephenson
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.
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Marissa Stephenson
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Quentin Melcher
June 03, 2009 7:53 PM
Re: Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. by Quentin Melcher
Quentin's first year at Sonora had been a fairly successful one. His family had not only been pleased with his grades, but also his yearbook awards, which were Most Serious and Class Bookworm, the latter of which confused Quentin as he was neither a book nor a worm. He figured it was meant to mean he was avid reader, rather than that he was a worm that infested books since he was quite clearly a human being, and that was true, but Quentin didn't think it made much sense to call someone who liked to read the same thing as a worm that was infesting books. It was kind of a derogatory term come to think of it. Quentin wasn't infesting books when he read them. He would never be mischevious towards, be hurtful towards or harass a book. He respected books and furthermore, he didn't even know how one could harass an inanimate object. People who read books read them because they liked to (or had to for a class) which was what books were for. Plus people were not worms, period. They were people.But his parents and grandparents seemed to think it was a good thing and that was good enough for Quentin. Even if he still found the term inherently insulting to those who liked to read, which was something he did not feel he should be insulted for. Not that he felt insulted by his parents or his classmates, more by whomever invented the term to begin with.
He took a seat at a station with one of the first years and listened for his name as Professor Fawcett called them off. As much as it would have pleased Quentin to have a regular teacher-and as much as it would have pleased his family to have one for him-he rather liked Professor Fawcett as he not only actually taught them things but was capable of teaching many of them. Other people might refer to Professor Fawcett as being well-rounded, but Quentin would not because Professor Fawcett was not perfectly circular. He wasn't even fat.
Another reason Quentin liked Professor Fawcett was that his lessons were always rather straight forward. Cheering potions were used to cheer one up just like boil curing potions were used to cure boils. He liked that, the lessons were clear that way. It made it easier to be more accurate which was called for in Potions.
"Have you ever done anything like this?"
Quentin looked at the first year. "Well, if you mean, have I brewed potions, than yes, I have. However, if you mean have I done one similar to this one, than no. Last year we made a potion that cures boils. Curing a boil is not really similar to cheering one up. Though I guess being unhappy and having boils are both pretty awful conditions and the potion cures them, so perhaps I have. Both potions are helpful rather than harmful, and the process of making it is pretty much the same, so yes, I have done something like this before after all" She had only asked if he had done anything like this so it didn't matter if Quentin had done this exact potion as she had not asked that. "I'm Quentin." He introduced himself.
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Quentin Melcher
Re: Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.
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Quentin Melcher
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Marissa
June 03, 2009 11:39 PM
Fire burn and cauldron bubble. by Marissa
It took Marissa a moment to recover from her partner's way of answering what she had thought of as a simple question. That was much more depth than she would have ever put into it, and it made her feel the tiniest bit inferior. She had been accounted smart in Georgia - exclusive schools all of her life, advanced material since she was seven, lit clubs and language lessons and special art classes - but if this was normal for Arizona, her reputation was about to take a serious beating."I'm Quentin."
At last! Something she could respond to without making her sound like a total idiot. "I'm Marissa," she said, smiling only a little nervously. Just how much of a fool would she make of herself in the next two hours? "Nice to meet you."
She scanned over the list of ingredients, trying to look as smart and professional as possible and wishing she had some reading glasses. Being the best was all she knew how to do; without that, she was nothing. Learning to be better at all this than the people who were apparently born to it would - to put it mildly - be difficult, but Marissa thought it was possible. Until then, she'd have to bluff. Looking the part would be the key to doing so.
"I think we have everything we need," she said, placing one hand on her open textbook. "I can start finely chopping the asphodel if you'll get the water for our base." There was a chance she could slice her hand open while chopping things, but it wasn't very likely. Marissa had always been careful, even nit-picky, in the execution of any task, and she had a minimum of experience helping her mother cook and much more experience of using an Easy-Bake Oven. Lugging around a big pot of water, on the other hand, had much more potential to be messy.
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Marissa
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
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Marissa
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Quentin
June 12, 2009 5:37 PM
Filet of a fenny snake... by Quentin
Quentin smiled pleasantly and considered what she said. It wasn't much that wasn't clear. She was Marissa and she found it nice to meet him. He always wondered, however, why people said they were pleased to meet someone before getting to know them. For all Marissa knew, Quentin could be incredibly obnoxious. It always tripped him up as well how he was supposed to reply to that when he didn't know yet if it was nice to meet her. He supposed he could consider meeting new people nice in itself,even if he later found out they weren't so pleasant. Besides, Quentin generally found most people pleasant. "It's nice to meet you too." He responded. At the moment, it technically was as Marissa had not done anything really to make him think otherwise.And then there was that she said they had everything they needed. Quentin wondered briefly how she knew everything he could possibly need. It wasn't much that he did need right this very moment beyond the potions ingredients which he had so that was technically true, but Marissa had no way of knowing that. And it was obvious that Marissa didn't need anything else either since she was the one who had said they had everything they needed.
There were things that they didn't have that they did need though, like food. It was just that they didn't need that right this very moment. And they needed the water for the lesson too and he was about to point that out when Marissa offered to start chopping asphodel if Quentin would go get the water. That was fine with him as it would take care of the one thing they actually did still neeed.
"All right then, I will go and get the water so we'll have that too." He went to go and get it and brought it back to their station, only managing to spill a tiny bit here and there. "Here's the water. Shall I start grinding up the ginger next?" Quentin inquired.
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Quentin
Filet of a fenny snake...
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Quentin
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Marissa
June 20, 2009 1:55 AM
In the cauldron boil and bake. by Marissa
"That's good," Marissa said when Quentin announced exactly what he was going to do and why. It felt like she ought to respond in some way, and that was the only thing she could think of to say. Was it normal, in the Wizarding World, to make statements like that before starting to do something? She'd already realized that people here were literal and a bit smarter-seeming than people she was used to, and after finding out that magic was real...Well, the details of the social code would have to be pretty darn bizarre to really surprise her now. "And I will slice the asphodel while you do that so we'll have it in the right format."She read over the instructions twice, carefully making sure she hadn't missed anything, before she actually picked up a knife and set to work on what, according to her labeled set of potion ingredients, was asphodel. Every perfectionistic, nitpicky bone in her body demanded that she do this just right, thereby gaining teacher approval and proving she could keep up with the students here.
Such was her concentration on her task that Marissa jumped, surprised, at the sound of her partner's voice announcing a successful completion of his task. The knife came down half an inch from the tip of her finger, making her wince as she considered how messy that could have gotten. Landing in the infirmary on her first day didn't seem like one of the most promising starts to a school career. She pushed a strand of brown hair back as she looked back up at Quentin.
"Um, sure," she said. In her whole life, she'd never heard a real person use the word 'shall' while not seeming to be joking. "Shall I powder the daisy roots once I finish with the asphodel?"
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Marissa
In the cauldron boil and bake.
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Marissa
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Quentin
June 25, 2009 7:33 PM
Eye of newt and toe of frog by Quentin
As he returned and Marissa jumped, Quentin frowned. "Did you cut yourself?" He asked. He didn't see any blood but he'd seen her wince so maybe she had harmed herself after all. Quentin hoped she was all right. He'd feel awful if she had cut herself. But if she had, there would be blood wouldn't there? That was what tended to happen when the skin was came in contact with a fast moving sharp object. Quentin peered closer and still didn't see any blood, but if Marissa hadn't cut herself why did she wince? Maybe it was like a paper cut. Except it couldn't be a paper cut because it wasn't on paper, it was a knife. And knife cuts usually produced more blood.Fairly confident that Marissa was all right, in terms of not cutting herself with the knife, Quentin sat back down, placing the cauldron on the table. "That would be fine," he responded. He was glad that they seemed to be working together so well and also that Marissa seemed not to be in too much pain. After all, if she'd harmed herself with the knife she would not only be bleeding heavily but most likely screaming a lot. Not screaming her head off, as Quentin was certain that screaming could not decapitate someone. Nor would she be screaming bloody murder, because Quentin had never heard someone use the exact words bloody murder when they were hurt either physically or emotionally.
People came up with a great many phrases that simply did not make sense. Like the phrase "mano y mano".That was ridiculous the way people used it. They always used it to mean man to man when it literally meant hand and hand. Were the two men supposed to hold each other's hands when talking or just press their palms together? Were they supposed to do it with one hand or both? And why not woman to woman or man to woman as well? Could women talk man to man? Quentin supposed both genders could technically talk hand to hand but it tended to be mostly male students at his family's school using the phrase so it was unlikely that they were going to be talking woman to woman or man to woman anyway. One time he had heard the phrase used by one big burly seventh year student when he was mad at another big burly seventh year student. Quentin had jumped in and corrected them. If he had not been the Headmaster's grandson and they hadn't been so confused, he probably would have been beaten or hexed.
Come to think of it, who talked with their hands anyway? Quentin knew some people gestured a lot and that was considered talking with ones hands but hands did not have voices of their own. He supposed there was sign language, which was used for deaf people.
He began to grind the ginger. "So, Marissa," Quentin began "How are you liking Sonora so far?" He figured he might as well start a conversation with her while they worked. It would be fine so long as they stayed on task as well.
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Quentin
Eye of newt and toe of frog
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Quentin
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Marissa
June 26, 2009 11:55 AM
Wool of bat and tongue of dog. by Marissa
Marissa blushed slightly when Quentin asked if she had cut herself. "No," she said, putting the hand in question down by her side and rubbing it against her jeans automatically as she did. "You just surprised me." At least, she assumed he had asked because of her jumping like an idiot, because she couldn't think of another reason for it. "Got a little too caught up with the asphodel," she tried, a weak effort at a joke. She laughed awkwardly and went back to chopping asphodel.She was still careful with that, but made sure to keep one ear open in case Quentin said or did something else. About the time she finished reducing the plant to almost-equally-sized pieces, the precaution paid off. Marissa finished up with the last bit of asphodel before she answered, just to give herself an extra two seconds to think of what to say.
"It's...interesting," she said. That was true. "It's a lot different from home. I've never been to a boarding school, and..." She paused in reaching for the daisy roots to make a small, encompassing gesture at the classroom. "It's still a little overwhelming." Since she didn't want to sound all whiny on her first full day, though, she was quick to tack on a qualifier. "I think I like it, though," she added, using her best bright, optimistic tone. "What about you? Do you like it here?"
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Marissa
Wool of bat and tongue of dog.
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Marissa
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Quentin
July 08, 2009 7:25 PM
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, by Quentin
Quentin frowned, slightly confused. "How did I surprise you? I mean, I assume you were expecting me to come back with the water." He went on, his frown changing to a smile. "I'm glad you're not hurt though." There was no reason why he would want Marissa to be and as she was nice and if she had been hurt, he'd have been without a partner, he was glad she was definitely okay.He nodded. "It takes time. I mean, I guess for me, it kind of is like home. My parents run a school for wizards themselves, but its an all male school so I guess the difference here is that there are girls around." His mother,grandmother, great-grandmother, and the female professors did not count. They were all over 18, and were thus women, not girls. "Plus, I'm a student here, rather than the Headmaster's grandson. I have a lot of cousins here though, so I still have family around."
"I'm glad you like it though." Quentin continued. He considered what she said next. He wasn't sure if Marissa meant Sonora or Potions in particular as she had not specified. "I do too. I rather like this class." He nodded at Professor Fawcett. "Even though Professor Fawcett's a substitute, he's really one of the better professors here. I mean, I've heard he's taught not only Potions, but COMC and Transfiguration too. He was also our flying teacher last year and my dad said he's a magisociologist. That's quite impressive, knowing that many subjects well enough to be able to teach them adequately. Not that we have magisociology as a subject. It would be neat if we did, but Sonora can't even seem to keep a permanent teacher for Transfiguration."
He went on, grinding the ginger as he spoke, "Last year, we had someone for History of Magic, who wasn't even really a teacher. He never taught us much, so that's how I figured he really wasn't one, but he's not here anymore." Quentin had heard that his cousin and her friends were the ones behind that. "The new guy is a Cabinet Installation, so we'll see how that turns out. I like Sonora in general though." Quentin figured that was a way to cover all the bases. "If you don't mind me asking, are you from a non-magical background? It's fine if you are, I'm just wondering because you said it's different here than home. Though usually school is different from home, except in my case, but I assume it would be even more different if you haven't grown up with magic."
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Quentin
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
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Quentin
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Marissa
July 09, 2009 12:43 AM
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing. by Marissa
"Thank you," Marissa said. It wouldn't have been pleasant, having a partner who wanted her hurt. Not that Quentin had any reason to want her hurt, but...She was overthinking it again. "I was expecting you to come back, but I didn't see that you had because I wasn't paying attention."Her eyebrows went up slightly as Quentin talked about where he came from. This wasn't, then, the only magic school that was available. She had thought Sonora looked a little small to be the only middle and high school for an entire secret-but-functional society, but hadn't been able to think of an explanation for why a girl from Georgia would get placed in a school in Arizona. Since Quentin was evidently not the first wizard in his family, Sonora also couldn't be the dumping ground for Muggleborns, which had been quite the viable option. It was interesting. She might have to do some research on this.
Hearing of his cousins made her think of her family back in Athens, and she was startled to realize she missed them. It had never occurred to her, in all the weeks of packing up to come and getting used to the idea of not attending the same school as her sister and friends and living away from Daddy and Mama and Nana, that she'd also miss her cousins. At the moment, she thought she might even be happy to see her Aunt Kelly, and they had never gotten along. It was amazing what not having them all could do to her perceptions.
Because it really wasn't smart to get teary while she had a scalpel in her hand, though, she pushed the thoughts of her family aside and tuned into the talk about professors. Good to know that her evaluation of Professor Fawcett had been a fairly accurate one. She wasn't sure how being one of those guys who installed cabinets qualified the professor Quentin was talking about to teach school, but was used to trusting authority figures to take care of matters like checking out teacher certifications.
"Yeah, my family's non-magical," she said, glancing up from her work. The water seemed to be simmering, so she added in the asphodel. "It was kind of a shock for everyone when I got my letter." She wasn't sure how wise it was - she had a feeling it wasn't wise at all - but curiosity got the better of her. "But - why wouldn't my background be fine?"
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Marissa
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing.
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Marissa
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Quentin
July 27, 2009 6:27 PM
For a charm of powerful trouble by Quentin
"You're welcome." Quentin replied. He listened as she explained that she hadn't seen him and hadn't been paying attention. Paying attention was typically not a very good thing, especially in the magical world. Of course, it could have been that way in the muggle world too. Quentin wouldn't know, having never been in the muggle world. Actually though it had been apparent that Marissa had been paying attention to what she was doing, just that she wasn't paying attention to him . "Well, you were concentrating on your work. That's more necessary than watching me come back with water. Sorry I startled you though."Quentin nodded. "Mine's all magical. Except Aunt Angelina. She's a muggle and is married to my Uncle Jethro, my dad's brother." His family was actually more ashamed of the fact that Aunt Angelina was a trapeze artist in the circus than the fact that she was a muggle. Even greater than that was the shame that his uncle, despite being a wizard, performed as a muggle magician and had been in trouble many times for using magic in front of muggles, who didn't even really believe it was real anyway. " I don't know her that well though. Nor do I really know the cousins that I have here. Pippa is in my year." Quentin nodded in her direction. "And I think Tawny is in yours." He gestured towards the Pecari first year. "They're...third cousins, I believe." Quentin added as an explanation for why he didn't know them that well. "And then, Adam and Chelsea are older, and also third cousins so I know them even less well then Pippa or Tawny."
"But - why wouldn't my background be fine?"
His face colored. Blood prejudices were not a topic Quentin had really wanted to get into. Then again, seeing as Marissa was a Crotalus, the house most associated with them, fairly or not, perhaps he should give her a bit of warning. "Well, I was really just trying to assure you that I didn't have an issue with it, because I had asked out of curiosity as sometimes people think one is asking because they do care about them." Quentin looked down at his cauldron. "There are wizards, probably some here at Sonora, and even in your house-and in mine too- who um, don't like people who aren't from all-magical backgrounds. I can't name any of these people in particular, I'm sorry. I didn't even mean for the conversation to go in this direction." Quentin finished apologetically, mostly for it ending up this way and for the fact that he couldn't give Marissa names of people to watch out for, then any prejudices he had towards how much magical background someone had, because he didn't have any prejudices towards it.
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Quentin
For a charm of powerful trouble
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