Potioneer in the making. on Potions

Professor Fawcett

February 04, 2011 9:11 PM

Lesson One for Beginners (1st and 2nd Years) by Professor Fawcett

Perhaps it was vanity, or perhaps, as he preferred to think, an attempt to impress upon them the seriousness of the endeavor they were undertaking, and at least part of it was an awareness of the increased fire hazard new students brought with them, but John made some small efforts to make his desk and the surrounding area less of a jumble of books and papers which only made sense to him for the first few weeks of school mostly for the benefit of the first years. There were still probably a few novels mixed in with the potions texts and periodicals in the bookshelves placed at strategic, front-of-the-room locations to either side of his desk, by the door, and directly across the room from the first, and a doodled-on copy of the faculty handbook lay open among the class rosters and lesson plans, but the mass of articles and magazines and random notes to himself and class assignments that the second through sixth years would be familiar with was missing, and he’d freshened the color on the dark posters, placed at perfectly even intervals around the walls, of famous potioneers, making the environment look slightly more respectable. There were still a large number of books stacked on a new table off to one side of the desk, but those were part of the lesson, and so didn’t count against the respectability score for the day.

By the third week of term, he expected it all to be in vain. He would have begun to accumulate paper as he always did, most of his collection of dark blue and dark green robes would be ink-stained again without Allison constantly present to notice and remove the marks, and someone would have done something just wrong enough for one of the ladies and gentlemen on the wall to be an odd color, but as long as the supply cabinet remained fully stocked and he could hold out long enough to win their respect, and possibly the new boss’ as well, then he would be content.

Once the bell rang, a little muffled by their distance from the tower but definitely loud enough to be heard, John pointed his wand at the classroom door to close it and stood up. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said, raising his voice very slightly. He disliked having to do so, but they had yet to learn how his classroom was run, so it was possibly necessary to get their attention. “And welcome to another exciting year of Beginner’s Potions. I’m sure those of you returning to us for a second year have already informed your new classmates of the joys to come.” John had never, actually, been entirely sure what the students thought of him. Some seemed to occasionally appreciate his attempts at humor and style of running class, but he imagined the vast majority disliked the essays. “To our new students, welcome. I am Professor John Fawcett. Please answer when I call your name off the roll. Melody Abramson….”

He flicked his wand at a particularly neat stack of printed papers, which separated, one landing on each occupied desk. “This is your course syllabus. While I, as your professor, reserve the right to change it when and as I see fit, I will inform you if I do, and unless I do, you may assume the activity listed for each day is the one we will engage in. While you may have some low-stakes or extra credit assignments offered that are not listed here, most of your classwork is also described on your syllabus, including exam study guides and major papers.”

Here was the part many students were not going to like. “The ability to think creatively about issues, research thoroughly and properly, and express your findings articulately both aloud and on parchment are as essential to many parts of the Potions world – not to mention the world at large – as the ability to prepare the concoctions in your textbooks well. You will, therefore, complete papers, conduct research, and make presentations, both individually and in groups. There will also be one class period given over to discussion groups in every two weeks. I expect you to take these parts of the course as seriously as you do anything we do with our cauldrons, and I expect you to take the work we do with our cauldrons very seriously. This is a dangerous subject, and those who act without due caution in my classroom may find themselves removed from it.”

He relaxed the sternness of his manner slightly. “So long as due caution is taken, however, and all of your classmates are treated with the same level of respect as you would like to be treated, there is no reason why you should not all do well in this course. I am willing to work with those who are willing to work, and my office is open to those who feel the need for assistance, or another way of looking at material. I consider the success of every person in here a priority.” If a partial solution for Jose Hernandez could be found, then John had very little sympathy for anyone who did not at least pass his class. “If you have any questions pertaining to this class or the syllabus, you may ask them now or at a later time.”

Once any queries had been handled, he smiled slightly. “In our next class, you will be quizzed over the Potions safety guidelines in the first chapter of The Beginning Potioneer as a prerequisite for beginning lab work. For now, please take out your copies of An Introduction to the Conceptual History of Potion-Making.”

A second flick of his wand sent another paper to each occupied seat, these a single sheet and less substantial than the syllabi. At the top were the words MAJOR POTIONEERS, PAST AND PRESENT, and beneath it was a list of thirty names, ranging from Circe to one fellow, Henry Morrow, who’d made major advances in the field in the past twenty years.

“You will divide yourselves into groups of two to four, as you prefer, and decide which of these major potioneers you would like to spend class today researching. Once you have decided, send a representative to the blackboard to claim him or her.” His third use of magic in the class put the names on the board as well, or rather, removed the charm he’d used to conceal them up to this point. His handwriting was terrible, but he had taken enough time on it that he thought everything should be legible. “You’ll present your findings about this individual’s importance to the field of Potions to the class after the quiz next time. You may, of course, meet outside of class to do further work before then, and consult the books I have here – “ he indicated the new table to his right – “and on my shelves as well as your texts. I will be moving around the classroom while you work, so you may ask me questions related to this matter if there is any confusion. You may begin.”

OOC: The assignment here’s pretty open-ended, so be creative, and remember the posting rules – 200 words minimum, good spelling and grammar. Have fun!

Subthreads:

It's like neverending torture. by Alice Adair, Crotalus with Madeline Parry, Teppenpaw, Josephine Owen, Pecari

My classroom debut by Arnold Carey, Aladren with Derwent Pierce IV, Teppenpaw

Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go by Eliza Bennett, Crotalus with Jessica Applerose, Eliza, Jess [Teppenpaw]

In my element by Arthur Carey, Aladren with Preston Stratford [Aladren], Arthur

Potioneer in the making. by Sophie Jamison [Pecari] with Luka Anastanov [Pecari, 1st year]

0 Professor Fawcett Lesson One for Beginners (1st and 2nd Years) 0 Professor Fawcett 1 5

Alice Adair, Crotalus

February 05, 2011 12:47 PM

It's like neverending torture. by Alice Adair, Crotalus

Like in Transfiguration, Alice drifted more to the back of the classroom rather than the front. She always figured that the front of the room was for not only those that were considered the geniuses of the school, which were the Aladrens, or for those that wanted to be the center of attention, like Jordan. Instead, she was content to simply be with her books and parchment, not drawing attention to herself. Unfortunately, the professor was willing to when he started role-call. Really? Okay, she understood the point, but couldn’t he have just passed around a sheet for them to sign instead? She hated having people look at her at all. When her name came up, she raised her hand, halfway, and as soon as she could put it down.

The Crotalus girl closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. All right. No problem. Her turn was finished and he had moved on to the next name. Calmed, she stayed with her eyes closed, pretending there was no one else around until Professor Fawcett gave them the syllabus. Now, this, she could get into and she forgave him for putting her through the torture of calling out their names. Nearly everything she would need for the course was written on this paper. It was absolutely wonderful. No, more than wonderful. She had already skimmed through the Potions textbook, but now she would be able to concentrate on each area and would be able to begin working on everything. Here, she thought classes weren’t moving quickly enough and now she would be able to move ahead. Absolutely brilliant!

Her head tilted slightly as the professor talked about the point of their work. Wasn’t everything he said already obvious? Of course, it was necessary to research thoroughly. Otherwise, the conclusion that was trying to be reached would either not be proven or would have been proven on falsehoods. Neither of which worked. Besides, she thought writing her ideas would be fun. She didn’t really want anyone else to read them, but the professor doing so would be all right. Maybe she would even do all right. However, all pleasure was taken from this when she decided she didn’t like the professor anymore. He was going to make them make presentations, individually and in groups! Plus, group discussions! She put her head in her hands. This wasn’t happening. No, no, it wasn’t happening. Maybe if she kept saying it, it would become true.

Admittedly, she was being unrealistic. Alice knew she was. She just had to come up with a solution. Obviously, going home was not an option, so she had to work within the confines of the situations. The professor had told them that they could come talk to him and that the success of every person was important. She would have to talk to him, explain to him that speaking in front of her peers was not to her success. If anything, it would be her undoing. She could offer to do more essay work. Or maybe, if he really insisted, she could have someone else read her work in front of the class, so long as she didn’t have to be the one to do it. Yes, this is what she would do. After class, she would calmly go speak to the professor and explain a rational argument for why it was impossible and impractical for her to speak in front of a group.

Apparently, she wasn’t going to be given the chance since they were jumping right into group work and presentations. Maybe if she tried today, he would be more willing to listen to her argument. Sigh. This still left her with the issue of finding a partner. She considered Jordan since then she could just do the work and Jordan could present it, but changed her mind. Jordan probably wanted to work with her friends, not her little sister. Rather, she asked the first person she came across, “If it’s not terribly inconvenient, do you want to work together?”

0 Alice Adair, Crotalus It's like neverending torture. 0 Alice Adair, Crotalus 0 5

Arnold Carey, Aladren

February 05, 2011 8:41 PM

My classroom debut by Arnold Carey, Aladren

He wouldn’t say so, because Father was very good at it and wanted his children to be, too, but Arnold wasn’t looking forward to Potions. He couldn’t see the appeal of spending hours and hours in a dark, stuffy room, hot from the fires under the cauldrons and full of strange-smelling vapors, doing long lists of calculations and making exact measurements and possibly dying if he lost count of how often he’d stirred something. And then, even if he did it right, possibly waiting weeks for the result. It was fine for Arthur and Father – or would have been, if he’d been able to not do something they did do – but Arnold didn’t have the patience to enjoy it.

Unfortunately for him, his Head of House was the professor, which meant he had even more of a reason than Father caused to try to do well in it anyway. Arnold had tried to put it together in terms he was familiar with, and had come to a solution where Headmaster Regal was like Anthony IV, Deputy Headmaster Cohen was Anthony VI, and the House heads were like two Anthony VIIs and two Eugenias, with Professor Fawcett, as head of Arnold’s House, as the Supreme Father-Away-From-Father figure. The other, Professor McKindy, and the Grandmothers, Coach Pierce and Professor Crosby, would need to be treated with a great deal of respect, of course, and the other professors, the aunts and uncles, with a good bit just to be safe, but still – none of them taught classes he anticipated not enjoying as much as Potions.

Because Professor Fawcett was the equal of his father until midterm, though, Arnold sat near the front and tried to look attentive. It was hard, as the speech about the syllabus was long and the descriptions of the assignments not encouraging, but he got through it without more than a few sessions of rapid blinking until the actual assignment for the day made him grimace just a little. He was not too fond of history, either, and had been happy to think he was escaping it for most of the year. It seemed, though, that Professor Fawcett was more like Father than his analogy had really taken into account.

He considered working with his brother, since Arthur was good at this sort of thing and could most likely do the entire assignment without opening a book, but his brother was sitting in the middle of the room. Turning to look, though, did put him face-to-face with one of his other classmates. “Shall we work together?” he asked, trying to sound a little more enthusiastic than he really was.

0 Arnold Carey, Aladren My classroom debut 181 Arnold Carey, Aladren 0 5

Eliza Bennett, Crotalus

February 05, 2011 9:36 PM

Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go by Eliza Bennett, Crotalus

Eliza had no great love for Potions on its own terms, but she had certain skills which made her good at it. She could focus well, read well enough that she was unlikely to skip or misinterpret instructions, and follow such instructions once she had them, and most of the time, that was all that was needed for actually brewing the potion. The professor had been known to express a problem with the way she used the language in her papers, but that wasn’t enough to sink her grade below the point Daddy considered acceptable, and that was enough for her. As long as her father was content, Eliza didn’t think she really had anything to worry about. Her mother was noisy, but Daddy had the power.

She had felt tired when she got up, but a few sips of coffee, while awful for her mouth, had been enough to clear her head and make her brown eyes bright – maybe a little too bright, but she thought she’d taken care of that through a little clever use of eye makeup – and keep her going through the morning. It was afternoon, now, and she was tired all over again, paranoia was exhausting, but she put on a smile as she walked into Professor Fawcett’s half-library classroom and took a seat. Mother insisted that smiling made you feel better all by itself, and Eliza didn’t suppose it could hurt to try.

When her name was called, she raised her hand and responded, and when the syllabus came, she looked through it quickly, then decided it was basically the same as last year, just with different assignments she had to pay attention to and different dates on. Nothing to worry about.

That was the one thing about Fawcett. There was something consistent about him, something that made her feel strangely secure, to be in a classroom where she worked near fires and with things that were even more likely to blow up than most magical things were. She was sure it was an illusion, and he was as useless as virtually every other adult when it came right down to it, but it was still an illusion Eliza liked.

The assignment wasn’t as much to her liking, since it involved having to think a little. She thought, after a year, that she’d had enough Fawcett to feel sure that just quoting a book or two about why the person she and her group picked was important wouldn’t cut it, not if she wanted to get the semester off to a good start. She kept the smile, though, as she turned to find a partner. Her roommates would do, but she really wanted as many people as she could possibly get on her good side right now.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “Do you want to work together? I’m okay with pairs or more.”

0 Eliza Bennett, Crotalus Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go 174 Eliza Bennett, Crotalus 0 5

Arthur Carey, Aladren

February 05, 2011 11:53 PM

In my element by Arthur Carey, Aladren

Potions would, of course, be easy. Arthur had looked through the textbooks thoroughly and concluded that none of the mathematics went beyond his level of algebra and that most of the procedures were almost too simple – so much that he was tempted to believe there was a catch, really, but he had noticed, in the past year, that he had a tendency to overthink things and assume there was a catch when there really was none, because adults didn’t think he was as smart as he really was. That was unfortunate, and he hated to think of all the things he hadn’t learned because adult tutors had underestimated him, but there was nothing to be done about it.

He did not deny, however, that Potions might be a little strange, even if it was easy. Arthur had, though startled by him seeing a need to actually tell them not to damage the library, decided he thought he could get along with Professor Fawcett on the first night, but he had never foreseen the professor being so very Aladren as to keep so many books in his classroom. Though his schoolbooks, supplemented by the things he had checked out of the library already, were heavy, he couldn’t help but pause by the bookshelf beside the door and examine the titles, wondering what level the majority of them were on and if he was allowed to read them.

Then someone said something behind him, and he noticed that he was blocking the door. Flushing slightly, he went to find a seat. Though tempted, he avoided the front row, instead seeking out a place in the middle. He needed to meet everyone, and the middle was the area that would have the most people in it.

He responded when his name was called, wondering for a moment if his parents had gone so far as to name him ‘Arthur’ not only because it just sounded as if it should come after ‘Arnold’ but because it was actually further down the alphabet than his brother’s name, and couldn’t quite resist the temptation to flip through the syllabus when he got it. To have the entire course at his fingertips was more of a gift than he imagined the professor knew; if he was conscientious, and did not let himself get distracted, then he could consistently work ahead and so stay at the very top of the class while having time to conduct his own studies beyond what Professor Fawcett and the others gave them. His and Arnold’s plan, continued.

Unless, of course, Alice was as gifted here as she was in Transfiguration. Then he would still have a challenge, and have to focus on what they did for class. Arthur realized it was most likely not normal that he was smiling slightly at the thought.

He also realized it was not normal that he continued to smile because of the professor, but he couldn’t help it. He still found the professor’s concern that someone might be deliberately stupid alarming, for what it implied about the kind of students they were used to having around here, but still – this class was going to be wonderful if he was half of what he was picturing. If it turned out to be so, he might have to see if Father could do anything about commending the professor to the school board and the education department.

He did wish there had been a little more detail about the assignment, how far in depth they were supposed to go and that sort of thing, but supposed there was no such thing as too much when making a first impression. He recognized a few names on the list, too, which would make it easier going if he could persuade whomever he worked with to go with one of those options. “Hello,” he said cordially to the first neighbor who caught his eye. “Would you mind terribly if I were to join your group?”

0 Arthur Carey, Aladren In my element 0 Arthur Carey, Aladren 0 5

Derwent Pierce IV, Teppenpaw

February 07, 2011 11:12 AM

I understand Hamlet's generosity now. by Derwent Pierce IV, Teppenpaw

Potions, to be perfectly honest, terrified Derry. Hamlet had given him some basic instruction on the subject and it seemed straightforward enough, but the fact remained that a potions accident had killed his brother, his great-grandfather, and three of his cousins all in one fell swoop. Hamlet promised him that if he gave it due attention and did not fool around that it was perfectly safe, but Derry really wished this was a class he could have avoided.

Still, he entered the room and took a seat near the front (the better to see the board since his eyesight was just a little below par and because it didn't occur to him to sit any further away from the teacher than the nearest open seat to him) and took out his quill, inkpot, and parchment. He smiled as the Professor greeted the classroom as a whole and his spirits lifted a little as he discovered the older students (if he had talked to any) would have tales of joy about this class. That was relieving. However, he was less convinced that another 'exciting' year was going to be a good thing.

He raised his hand and called out "Here!" when 'Pierce, Derwent' came up on the roll call and tried not to wince at the full name even though that was what Grandmother or Father called him all the time. He'd gotten used to the more informal atmosphere of Teppenpaw and had kind of thought (and hoped) that would be the case for all of Sonora.

He glanced over the syllabus when it was delivered to him, but he figured he'd go over it more when he wrote home to tell them what his classes were like. Hamlet, in particular, would be interested in what was coming up in the second half of the year, so they could go over that stuff when Derry was home for midterm break.

At the talk of all the quizzes, exams, and papers he was going to have to write Derry could not help but wonder what definition of 'joy' the older students were using when they spoke of this class. He was also beginning to understand why Hamlet allowed him to stop his writing assignments. Apparently, the ghost knew Derry was going to have plenty of other writing assignments at his new school.

At least Professor Fawcett did reiterate Hamlet's claim that exercising due caution and respect would mean he would do well and not blow himself up. Derry made a personal wizard's vow to himself to exercise plenty of due caution and respect.

When he instructed them to do so, Derry pulled out his copy of An Introduction to the Conceptual History of Potion-Making that his Mother had bought for him when she did his school shopping. Hamlet had made him look through it a little bit, and he knew it was kind of dull. Still, it was better than actually making potions, so he'd take the essay work. Especially when it turned out that one of the names on the 'Major Potioneers' list turned out to be one that Hamlet had talked about in one of his lectures.

The person seated beside him beat him to the punch and asked if he wanted to work together just before Derry could ask him the same thing. "Sure," he agreed readily. "I'm Derry Four," he added, in case his new partner hadn't picked that up from role call, and in case his new partner wanted to call him Derwent if he had.

"Do you have anyone here you want to study most? My tutor, Hamlet, talked about this guy," he pointed to a name reading Walter King near the end of the list, "a little bit, but I'm okay with it if you want to do somebody else."

1 Derwent Pierce IV, Teppenpaw I understand Hamlet's generosity now. 189 Derwent Pierce IV, Teppenpaw 0 5

Jessica Applerose

February 08, 2011 3:11 PM

I would start whistling if I knew how. by Jessica Applerose

Jessica was a little afraid of her potions class, even though she'd been exposed to it all her life. Her father was a potions master and her sister was passionate about potions (though really, that hadn't help Jess much). Her dad had taught her some of the basics, but he liked to experiment with potions. Most of what he had created were very little and unimportant, but it was still something. Jessica couldn't say the same for herself.

Jessica's curly brown hair bounced as she walked into the classroom and looked around with her bright blue eyes. There were an awful lot of books about potions. It looked a lot like her dad's office, come to think of it. She took a seat in the middle row right when class started. She didn't like being too early to anything. The professor called her name, and being an Applerose, it was one of the first. She answered with a soft, "Here," and sat quietly until the professor stopped his little lecture.

So, an assignment. It was open-ended, and Jessica hated that. She was good at following rules and all, but she didn't want to have to think about it so much. And do a lot of research. This was potions! They should be mixing ingredients and stuff. Jessica sighed.

The girl next to her greeted her brightly, and Jess turned to her. "Sure," she said with a smile. "I'm Jessica," she said. "I'm a first-year, so I'm kind of new at all this." Technically, she wasn't new to potions, but that was a different story.

"I guess we could get started," she said for lack of anything better to say. Jessica felt a little shy. She was used to making new friends, but she always felt a little shy in the beginning, though being so wasn't really in her nature. "So who would you like to research?" she asked.

0 Jessica Applerose I would start whistling if I knew how. 0 Jessica Applerose 0 5

Madeline Parry, Teppenpaw

February 09, 2011 11:53 AM

I thought of the science fair, but that might be the same. by Madeline Parry, Teppenpaw

Because her last name started with a P, and she was kind of tall anyway, Madeline was used to sitting at the back of the classroom. Sonora didn’t seem to assign seats the way her old school had, but the habit came in useful when, say, she went to the bathroom on her way to Potions, got turned around and lost, and came in way later than she’d meant to. It didn’t seem there were a lot of witches and wizards kind of near her age, but they were all together, no neatly dividing every year onto its own hallway, so it was incredibly easy to get overwhelmed. She knew she would get used to it, but for now, it was still very weird to find herself washing her hands at the sink beside one being used by someone who looked like a junior or senior in high school.

She didn’t know if she was glad to be sitting near the back of the Potions classroom or not. The class sounded a lot like chemistry, so on one hand, she really needed to be able to know all that went on, but on the other…If she was really bad at it, then she didn’t want to stand out too much in Professor Fawcett’s mind. He was, she’d put together, the Head of Aladren, and while the books were delicate enough to not come out and say flat-out that Aladren was the House for the smart people, they were the only House that actually listed ‘intelligence’ as one of the qualities that qualified someone for admission. An honors dorm, only working really hard couldn’t get you in after a few years. Madeline didn’t want any of her teachers to think bad about her, but especially not the one in charge of smart people things. Dad would never forgive her.

But it was all going to be good. She had looked through the textbooks, and none of it looked too difficult for first year. It was just being able to follow directions. She could do that. So things were going to be good.

She bit her lip when Professor Fawcett talked about the joys the second years would tell of. It was impossible to live with her dad without getting at least a basic understanding of sarcasm, so now all she had to do was figure out if he was being self-deprecating or if he was really, incredibly hard and people didn’t like him. The length of the syllabus didn’t resolve the question, either, though it was good to be able to know what was going to happen ahead of time, and be able to catch up if she got sick and had to spend a day or two in the hospital wing or something. She’d never gotten sick a lot, but things happened.

For today, at least, it didn’t sound like they were going to have to get into anything that would make her brain hurt too much. She was still only getting into the basics of wizard history, having only had access to books about it for about a month, but they had the one textbook to give them the basics about these people and the other to help them look up more detailed stuff, so that couldn’t be too hard, right? It was making a poster – though that didn’t even seem mandatory – and talking about it, like for a science fair project.

She was a little surprised when a girl she didn’t know at all asked to work with her, but then remembered that almost no one here knew anyone here at all except their own roommates, and that only she and the other Teppenpaw girls had a lot of roommates, so it wasn’t really that strange. Madeline smiled at her. “Sure,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Madeline Parry.” She offered the other girl her hand to shake.

0 Madeline Parry, Teppenpaw I thought of the science fair, but that might be the same. 0 Madeline Parry, Teppenpaw 0 5

Arnold

February 12, 2011 12:12 PM

I'm attempting to follow Father's advice by Arnold

Arthur was the one who saw everything, but Arnold was observant enough to have noticed that the fellow sitting beside him had answered to the name “Derwent Pierce” during the roll call. He felt distinctly bold for approaching that name. On one hand, the Pierces were, according to Grandmother, something of the Not South Carolina Careys of the Northeast, scandals up to their eyebrows, et cetera, but on the other, he was almost certain, and had it confirmed a moment later, that Derwent had a numeral.

And was an heir, of course. That was the important part. Anyone could repeat names – if he really wanted, he could marry a Muggle and have five sons and name them all Arnold and then curse them so that was all they could name their sons as well, and numerals would be established. But the Careys did not repeat names for boys very often, only for the Anthonies, who were theoretically each other's major heirs, so the two conditions were inextricably linked in Arnold’s mind. Right along with how he should have been Anthony the Eighth instead of Arnold the First.

“Derryfour,” Arnold repeated, not sure what to think. Derry sounded like a family name, something like how the very old people called his great-great-grandmother Bella in private, but he also brought that numeral into it. “I am Arnold Carey, of the South Carolina Careys.”

Perhaps the Pierces could get away with that half-informality, not using the branch, but Arnold knew he couldn’t. Sonora was very much the Savannah Carey school, and, as Arthur had pointed out on the first night, most of the South Carolina Careys really didn’t want to be very associated with that portion of the family tree. Edmond so far seemed not to be disgraceful, but Arnold was sure he was going to do something very dramatic any day now, and his family, in his absence, was being run by his unmarried sister. That alone, Grandmother said, was proof that their father had been very disturbed, since he was the one who’d authorized it before he…did whatever it was he’d done, no one was ever very clear about that. Died, maybe, in one of those ways that no one would talk about.

He looked at the name Walter King. It was as good as any other. History was more tedious than most, as there wasn’t even the promise of being able to use it in an interesting way, and he was still not expecting to like Potions after Professor Fawcett’s speech, but the truth was that Arnold didn’t heavily invest himself in any lessons, at least not the way Arthur did. They were simply things he had to complete, not that different from whatever ended up on his plate at the formal supper at home every month. He might like some items a bit more than others, but knew he had to finish them all.

“That’s all right,” he said, opening his textbook more than halfway through and then starting to flip for the right person. When he had some idea of how the content was organized, this was usually faster than flipping around in the index. “I don’t know much about him, but someone recent most likely has one big thing he did…How many books do you think we should use?”

Arnold was hoping it wasn’t many. It was almost never necessary, with anyone, up to and including the Fourth, for them to do as much digging as Arthur usually did to get the gist well enough to make it sound like he knew more than he did for whomever was in charge of the lesson, but he’d been told, repeatedly, that bowing to other people’s wishes and including them in decision-making was important for working in groups at school. Arnold pointing out that this was a ridiculous practice when he was right and the other people were wrong had not changed anyone’s opinion about this, though he was sure he’d heard Father whispering something that sounded like “poor, doomed child” to Mother while trying not to laugh at him.

0 Arnold I'm attempting to follow Father's advice 181 Arnold 0 5

Eliza

February 12, 2011 5:25 PM

It's not very ladylike, though, is it? by Eliza

Once Jessica told her she was a first year, Eliza recognized her as one of the small legion of Teppenpaw first years, but that was all the information she had. “I’m Eliza,” she said in return, still with the Mother-approved smile. “Second year. I like to think I’m pretty good at this.”

Really, this could work out quite well. If she was seen as a friend to first years, particularly Teppenpaw first years (Aladrens and Crotali being expected to act twice their ages, and Pecaris often being wild enough that it was hard for adults to muster much sympathy for them), then it would make her look even better to the adults if things went the way she knew they could and was afraid they would in the House. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if anyone else had been her Head of House, since she always tried her best, but now, she had to be perfect.

It wasn’t just for her sake, either, which made her feel both better and worse about it. Paul would be here next year, and Gemma not too long after that, and, more distantly, Leo and Richard. If she wasn’t her best, then people might think that her brothers and sister weren’t going to be much when they came in, and she would hate it if that was her fault. Paul and Gemma in particular were, Eliza was sure, much smarter than her, and much better at fitting into their roles, so it wouldn’t be fair for people to assume anything about them based on her.

The image of the Bennett family at Sonora, though, was being left up to her, just as the choice of what to do was to be left up to her. “How about…Caroline Argos?” she asked, glancing at the list and being surprised to see a name she recognized. “From about a century ago. My mother worships her for her work on anti-aging potions.” Eliza laughed. “Though I’m guessing she did something else, too, for Professor Fawcett to include her as a major potioneer. I don’t see him really being into anti-aging potions.”

0 Eliza It's not very ladylike, though, is it? 0 Eliza 0 5

Preston Stratford [Aladren]

February 13, 2011 2:06 AM

We seem to share said element. by Preston Stratford [Aladren]

Preston was finding Sonora to be different from what he had expected. At home, he had been taught by private tutors, and he had no competition whatsoever. Here, he had to compete for everything if he wanted to excel, and be noticeable for future spots of student power. These kinds of challenges were new to the redhead, and he was loving it. It gave him more space to prove his worth, and Merlin was he doing it! His father was not happy with his Quidditch decision, but he had sent everything he needed, reluctantly but he had, and that was what counted. In addition to his equipment, he was practicing super hard to gain strength and accuracy in his beatings. In his opinion, he was doing a pretty good job at it. The pain in his arms was sign of it, he was sure. He was prepared to help his team win this thing.

The best thing was that he was in the intelligent house, and it was more likely he would find some healthy competition in it, since he saw the other houses as inferior to Aladren, because he wasn’t in them. Preston was well aware of his arrogance, his brother and cousin always told him that, but he really didn’t care. He had been raised as an adult, a normal childhood was unknown to the redhead, and he didn’t think he missed out on anything. To be honest, he did not know what being a child meant, and he did not think he wanted to know. He was fine with the way he was.

To Preston, potions was a very challenging class, because it was an art. Measuring stuff relaxed him and for a few minutes he entered another world. A world where all that was alive was him and whatever he was brewing, he loved the subject, and he was sure he would excel at it. So far, he loved all of his classes with the exception of CoMC, but he planned on dropping it when he could. Animals and he did not have a very good relationship, in fact they were in the middle of a nasty divorce, and he was winning!

Anyways, the Aladren entered the Potions classroom and sat down. He was happy to be here, he really was. Preston liked doing things he was good at, and potions was one of those things. While he waited for the class to begin, his green-eyes scanned the room to find it full of interesting things. He decided he liked Professor Fawcett. He answered when his name was called and waited for the actual class to begin. The Syllabus to the class gracefully landed on his desk, and he perused through it. The class was going to be awesome! Yes, Professor Fawcett was the best professor ever. The Aladren took notes of the assignment for next class, once he finished he took out the copy of his book and smiled at the assignment for today. He loved history.

Deciding that classical history would suit his needs and wants, he made up his mind in working with Circe. Now, he had the slight problem of making his partner work with that. More importantly, he needed to find someone to work with. The boy next to him addressed him, and it happened to be Arthur Carey. Preston raised an inquisitive eyebrow and nodded in response to his question. “Sure I don’t mind, I am not working with anyone. Do you want to work with a particular Potioneer? Because I was thinking about Circe, she is super interesting and helped form modern potion-making.” Prof. Fawcett hadn’t specified anything else on the assignment, so it was assumed that they had free-reign on it. Awesome.

0 Preston Stratford [Aladren] We seem to share said element. 0 Preston Stratford [Aladren] 0 5

Sophie Jamison [Pecari]

February 13, 2011 1:04 PM

Potioneer in the making. by Sophie Jamison [Pecari]

An eager blonde skipped to Potions class as she did every day she was to be in attendance. Potions was pretty much the best thing ever. It was magic, but it did not require much--if any--wand work of spells. It was just the mixing of ingredients, simple but complex, challenging but easy. Potions made the world make sense; if it could be made, it could be altered with a potion. The class itself was her favorite by far, and the profession was her ambition. Sophia Jamison, Potioneer was a title she sought after, other than Sophia Jamison, professor Keeper. Of course, the potioneering was much more likely than going pro in a sport. In truth, she liked making potions more than Quidditch, and that right there was a lot of like.

In short, the second year loved Potions.

Plus, it had provided her with a friend. Last year she had gotten to know Ryan better when he needed help with the work for the class. Not only was it her greatest endeavor thus far, it altered her life, supplying her best friend in the world. It could change her life in that way, or taking a potion, such as Polyjuice, could literally change it.

She loved it a lot.

And so she skipped, a sing-song rhythm flowing from her footsteps as they made contact with the floor repeatedly. Sophie took a seat in the front of the classroom, afraid that if she sat further back she would be unable to hear, make a mistake, and thus end her Potions career before it even began.

The chipper twelve year old was somewhat disheartened by the assignment given; they were doing projects, not making potions?! What?! This was not Projects class! It was Potions! Of course she had the good sense not to say this, but her mind raged.

Her sky blue eyes fell upon her neighbor, and with a sigh, she decided they would be good enough as a partner. Even if they were, say, the worst Potions student in the history of Potions students, the short second year was pretty confident in her own abilities to get the job done. “Hey,” she said without inflection. “Be my partner.”

12 Sophie Jamison [Pecari] Potioneer in the making. 34 Sophie Jamison [Pecari] 0 5

Derry Four

February 14, 2011 4:36 PM

I always forget to do that by Derry Four

Derry realized his mistake when Arnold introduced himself. The Teppenpaws had seemed put out by his formal full name and branch recitation, so he'd assumed Sonora was not like one of those party things Mother said he'd have to start going to soon and he didn't have to give the whole thing here. This was apparently wrong, because Arnold did. Or maybe Arnold was being overly formal because he hadn't figured out Sonora wasn't like that yet. (And he wondered if maybe Arnold came from a Mountain, too, where things were different, but he couldn't think of a polite way to ask.)

Still, Carey was one of the names Father had said to be respectful to, so he hurried to correct himself, just in case Arnold was likely to complain to Grandmother (or tell somebody who talked to somebody who said something in the hearing of a ghost who told it to Berta, which was almost the same thing and far more likely). "I mean, I'm Derwent Pierce the Fourth, of the New Hampshire Pierces." He wondered if it would be bad form to plead Please don't tell anyone I made a bad first impression, and decided it probably was.

Well, he'd sort of already figured he'd get lectured over midterm because he'd somehow not realized before Sonora that muggles were actually real and probably made the New Hampshire Pierces look foolish and maybe that bad kind of sheltered Reggie had talked about.

Now, though, there was at least an essay to write on Walter King instead of worrying about how Grandmother would yell at him. (Though, to be honest, Derry had never thought he could ever be thankful for an essay before, and he felt kind of weirded out by it now given how much he hated essays.)

"Not too many," he guessed when Arnold asked how many references they should use, though the answer had more to do with wishful thinking than actual knowledge of how many were required. "He invented a potion that makes old ladies be able to have kids again," Derry added, offering his basic knowledge of what King was famous for. "Tricks their bodies into thinking they're young enough to do that. Aunt Katrina had to use it to have my cousin Thad - deus Pierce the Second." He remembered -barely- in time to use Thad's full name for Arnold Carey. "Not quite fountain of youth stuff, but getting closer. It does reverse one sign of aging anyway."

1 Derry Four I always forget to do that 189 Derry Four 0 5

Jess [Teppenpaw]

February 14, 2011 10:36 PM

Lady-like, shmady-like by Jess [Teppenpaw]

Jess nodded, then grinned. "Good! You can help me then. My daddy's an apothecary, but I haven't mixed many potions myself." Her dad had taught her older siblings a lot more. Her sister became passionate about it, and her brother had somewhat despised it. Her house used to smell strange all the time before Darla left. Now it was only half as strong as before. Thinking of her older sister always brought out strong emotions in Jess, both good and bad, so she hated thinking about her, though she seemed to be everywhere. It was annoying.

"You never know," Jess said to Eliza's comment. "Maybe he's starting to need those anti-aging potions. Maybe he worships her secretly as well!" Making up stories for her professors was beginning to be a lot of fun.

The boring professors or ones that infuriated her made her imagine a lot about their lives. Maybe they'd had a tragic accident or something, or maybe had just met the love of their lives and had to save all their energy for their new love. There was a lot going on his Jessica's head, not much academic.

"I've heard of her before," Jess offered before looking over at the bookshelves. "My daddy's an apothecary, so he's researched a lot of potioneers." She sighed then. "Well, I guess those books won't bring themselves here." Jess looked over at her companion. "Shall we head over to the shelves?"

0 Jess [Teppenpaw] Lady-like, shmady-like 0 Jess [Teppenpaw] 0 5

Arthur

February 17, 2011 8:40 PM

Very good, then by Arthur

Arthur considered Preston’s proposition. Circe would be a challenge to find truly accurate biographical details for – he remembered reading a throwaway line in one of his history books that mentioned some debate over which century she belonged to, though that had seemed to Arthur like someone trying to establish a name by causing a controversy – but she was on the list, had made significant contributions most likely even beyond the veil of myth, and was from Ancient Greece. He’d told his parents it was because he’d read that learning it first would make it easier to achieve fluency in the modern languages, which was true, but the real reason Arthur had asked for a Latin tutor when he was seven was because he’d realized people who studied the Classics had an air of intellectual superiority.

This wasn’t quite that, but it was close enough, even if he did have to share the glow with his roommate. Arthur was secure enough in his academic skills and certain enough of his future reputation (an unexpected benefit of being a twin; with his brother sharing every lesson, every little thing, all their lives, Arthur was used to a level of competition and measuring himself against someone else) to handle that. So Circe would do nicely, if Preston was really a proper Aladren and didn’t get under his feet.

Arthur was used to competition. He was not really used to people outside his family who were not tutors, much less ones his own age, and he wasn’t yet sure he trusted any of them.

“That will be fine,” he said pleasantly. “I’ll go make the claim, and get more books. Why don’t you begin making basic notes?” He supposed they might well have more time than any other pair he saw, since they were dorm mates, but there was no point in wasting any of it.

As he wrote, in careful letters, the required information on the board and began to sort through the supplementary material they had in the classroom for things that looked useful, he glanced at the front row and found his brother talking to Derwent Pierce. Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he decided to file it away as something to think about later. Father had mentioned that Derwent might be a useful person to know if he could avoid being too much like his same-named older brother and great-grandfather, so that was a good thing, but on the other, he was getting his impression of the Careys from Arnold, who liked to be overtly in charge and…wasn’t always diplomatic about it. Intervening, though, would make it worse, since for one thing he wasn’t his brother’s keeper and for another Arnold resented any implication that he was, so that was why he was considering it something to think about later. There was nothing he could do about it just now.

He did wonder, though, if there was any way for anyone in his family, other than himself and his great-great-grandparents and maybe his aunts, to die of old age. Grandfather had gotten Arnold to fancying himself the firstborn despite their twin status putting them on perfectly equal and low standing in the family, and he occasionally tried to assert what he seemed to think were his rights; it was why Father was terrified Anthony IV would live long enough to decide Arnold was a threat to Anthony and…do something about that. Mother, on the other hand, was more worried about what Grandfather would do to her, Father, and Anthony after Anthony IV died, since he openly preferred Arnold to his other grandchildren and had never forgiven his son for either the one moment of independence that led to Arthur’s mother being part of the family or for not being very independent.

Arthur had heard his parents talking about it one night, and it had been like seeing different people, who were not his parents at all; they had even looked different as they paced around the drawing room, discussing, in a very detached way, which of the elder Anthonies might be a threat to which of their sons. His perception of time had always been off, he couldn’t reliably tell how many years passed between events in his life, but he thought his little brother had been very little then, and Great-Grandfather not long dead; sometimes, Arthur thought that if Great-Grandfather had lived, things might have been all right, but he hadn’t, and now there was this thing.

It did not help Arthur’s opinion of this thing, either, that it was the reason Father knew he was smart. Anthony VII heard something outside the door, and Arthur had told Mother why he’d come downstairs in the first place and acted as though he’d only just done that and had heard nothing, but the next day, Father had taken him aside and kept asking him questions until he figured out exactly how much of it Arthur had understood, then told him, very seriously, that he must never tell anyone, or something very bad would happen.

Any other Anthony would have just wiped his memory and been done with it. This was why Arthur was fairly certain that, if this thing ever did emerge into view, that his father was going to lose the game.

He went back to where he had begun, with Preston, and put down the books. “You know,” he said, “I’ve read that some people believed Circe was a goddess. What do you think of that sort of thing?"

0 Arthur Very good, then 0 Arthur 0 5

Eliza

February 19, 2011 9:41 PM

Don't tell that to Mother by Eliza

“I’ll do my best,” Eliza said, not surprised that Jessica’s father’s profession wouldn’t have any impact on her own potions skills. Her father did give her most of the same lessons he did Paul about people and how they worked, but he didn’t involve either of them directly in adult business. He would, she knew, eventually bring Paul in, but that wouldn’t be for years, by which time he’d have already distanced himself from her and she would have accepted that.

It would be hard at first, because she loved Father and Paul best of everyone, but she would accept it, because she wouldn’t have any other choice. She was a girl, and not the smartest girl ever to live at that. At some point, her favorite parent and her favorite sibling weren’t going to be able to include her anymore because of those two things. Eliza didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do about it. Mother had preached that at her until she’d gotten used to the ideas in it a long time ago.

When Jessica suggested – she hoped not seriously – that Professor Fawcett might secretly be using womens’ beauty products, Eliza stared at her for a moment, then covered her eyes. “Oh, God,” she said, laughing. “Oh, I did not need that mental image. You did not need to give me that mental image. I would rather – “ she bit her tongue before she could actually say out loud that she’d rather picture Professor Levy kissing her wify-woman (something Mother had found plenty to say about) than picture Professor Fawcett shopping in one of the gleaming, hushed, almost temple-like places where Mother went to get her face potions, even as a joke. “I just really don’t want to see that,” she finished instead.

The next statement made her think someone was a little too proud of what their daddy did. Eliza pushed down the urge to point out that she was a Bennett. “I know, you told me,” she said. “I’ll go write on the board like Professor Fawcett told us to, and you go get some books, okay?”

She did that, then returned to their station. “I’m thinking we should start with some general biographical information, then discuss the potions things in more detail, end that with the beauty potions, and then summarize and conclude,” she said, then smiled. “My daddy talks to people a lot, and he’s taught me a little about how to do it. What do you think?”

0 Eliza Don't tell that to Mother 0 Eliza 0 5

Arnold

February 20, 2011 9:03 PM

I have good days and bad days with remembering it by Arnold

“I thought you were,” Arnold said when Derryfour suddenly backtracked and introduced himself properly. He noticed his twin looking at him and, just to prove Arthur wrong even though he was pretty sure there was no way Arthur could actually hear him over the noise of the classroom from where he was standing, added, “It’s a great pleasure to meet you.”

He just wished he knew why his own brother was thinking what he was almost certainly thinking right now. Arthur was just sharing their parents’ opinion, but Arnold had never figured out why his parents had so little faith in him in the first place. He didn’t think he had ever done anything so very shocking, but he was just as sure that Arthur hadn’t gotten nearly so long a lecture about the kind of Influences he could expect to come across at school and how he must avoid them from Father as Arnold had gotten from Grandfather. He had never asked, but he was sure of it anyway. No one ever expected his brothers to disgrace the family, even though Arthur hardly seemed to exist on the same plane of reality as everyone else half the time and had a habit of making everyone around him feel stupid.

Arnold had gotten very good at faking because of that. There was no way he’d fooled Arthur, and most likely not Mother or Father, either, but the rest of the family thought he was much smarter than he was. He thought at lot of it was being able to talk about things as if he knew what he was talking about whether he really did or not.

There were limits to that, though, and he thought anything relating to…babies, and that sort of thing, touched on or just went past them all. He didn’t really remember having a strong aversion to the whole idea of Anthony, but had been told he had been extremely upset about getting a little brother years ago, and supposed some of that must have lingered even after he forgot about it and the brat became part of the scenery. “Your family has many numerals,” he observed. “Um, yeah, you can talk about that – thing,” he said. “Since you know about it already. I can – see what research built on that.”

0 Arnold I have good days and bad days with remembering it 181 Arnold 0 5

Luka Anastanov [Pecari, 1st year]

February 21, 2011 1:58 AM

A potioneer already by Luka Anastanov [Pecari, 1st year]

Luka sighed as the professor started giving a lengthy lecture on Potions. By now, Luka had a firm idea that people in this school were more interested in the theoretical knowledge than practical. Why else would they be asked to research potioneers, instead of making potions? This was outrageous!

Luka was arrogant, he thought he knew more about application of magic than most in his class – which was true, because of his background. His background had also instilled a sense of distrust in him – which made it impossible for him to befriend anyone. If he could, he would have left the class, because no one, not even a professor could tell him what was good for him and what wasn’t.

He sat down at the place he was nearest to, and with great fury, pulled out a piece of parchment from his bag. What was worse – they had to partner up!

The loner in Luka vehemently protested. The odd combination of the scar on his cheek, the flashing green eyes and tanned skin all accentuated his boorish nature, and it was his refuge.

Maybe if he could stay quiet and not mention anything, he’d not need to partner up…

“Hey,” said a voice. “Be my partner.”

Luka turned around to see a girl, who had said that. That’s it? Not a question – she was not asking. As if he, Luka Anastanov, was bound to comply with her wishes.

Luka fought the urge to scowl. No need to get uncivil, he told himself.

“Alright,” he said non-chalantly. “Who are we working on?”

0 Luka Anastanov [Pecari, 1st year] A potioneer already 0 Luka Anastanov [Pecari, 1st year] 0 5

Derry

February 22, 2011 11:35 AM

The good days are when you forget, right? by Derry

"Pleasure to meet you, too," Derry returned and meant it. He loved meeting new people and there were so many new people to meet here at Sonora. And it seemed like every one of them had a totally new story to tell about where they came from. None of them came from a home at all like Derry's, and though his new Teppenpaw friends all found similarities to each other, those were all different, too. And the Careys - from Arnold's introduction and the fact that he remembered hearing about the Careys before - were probably more like the Pierces than anybody else he'd met so far.

While this wasn't nearly as exciting as the Appleroses and Hollands sending their kids to muggle places, it was at least nice to have something familiar here. Even if it was just the formal way of introducing oneself.

Derry nodded in agreement as it was pointed out that his family had a great many numerals. As he father was Two, and he was Four, and even Thad was Thad Two (Thad was never just Two - it was only the Derwents who were referred to by their number alone or it would get confusing, plus there wasn't really any reason to call Thad anything other than by his first name; one Thaddeus was a dead old guy, the other was nine - context was usually enough to distinguish the one from the other and 'Thad' was always Thad Two.)

And Belle didn't have a numeral, but she was a Two, too, in most respects except that Annabelle and Belinda were not technically the same first name. And that Aunt Bettina seemed to want to make people forget there ever had been a Belinda, which was probably the only reason Annabelle wasn't actually Belinda Two. Whereas Derry and Thad were supposed to honor their predecessors, Belle seemed expected to redeem her name. It was like the twin's mom blamed Bel One for the accident.

As hard as it was to follow in Three's shadow, Derry sometimes thought Belle had it worse.

"Okay," Derry agreed to the division of labor as Arnold described it. He could talk about 'that thing' well enough even if he didn't totally understand how, exactly, the stork fit into the whole picture or how a potion the mother took could affect a bird that didn't even live on the same mountain.

Maybe it made her look younger long enough to trick the stork into thinking she was young enough to have another baby. He'd heard the California Patriarch had a disease that made him look the wrong age sometimes. He would just have to research it a bit.

1 Derry The good days are when you forget, right? 189 Derry 0 5

Jess

February 22, 2011 2:57 PM

My mommy's pretty lenient with that stuff by Jess

Jess was glad that she had made an older girl laugh, and she thought about it as she went to get some books. She didn't really consider herself a funny person, but she did like to make jokes. Usually they fell somewhat flat, but she liked it a lot when they didn't. She grew on praise and laughter. Not at her, of course, but at her jokes. Jess had not had a lot of laughter in her life, especially with her lame older siblings. Tom had moved back to England or wherever in Europe when she was around 6, and it wasn't like she had any good memories with him anyway. He had always teased her and played pranks on her with Darla. When he left, Darla became more secluded and didn't talk to her family as much. Jess had a bit of a grudge against Darla. She had gone to university as soon as she could, leaving Jess alone at home and never writing to her. She could hardly remember the last time she had visited.

Thinking about her sister always angered Jess for some reason, so she sighed as she was walking to the bookshelves. She didn't like being angry at all.

So, Caroline Argos. There were surprisingly a whole lot of books about her. Caroline Argos: A Biography, Beauty with Caroline, Beauty in Books with Advice from Caroline Argos, and the less specific ones like Beauty Potions and their History and others. There were a lot, and Jess carefully piled as much as she could into her arms. Once she learned the levitating spell, she wouldn't have to do this anymore. She carried the books carefully back to their table and set them down.

Eliza told her the plan for their essay, and Jess nodded, her short brown curls bobbing. "Okay, sounds like a plan!" Jess thought of their professor using beauty products, and it made her want to giggle. Instead, she smiled silently to herself. "I'll look up some of the general information, then," she said, "and you can look up the potions stuff?"

0 Jess My mommy's pretty lenient with that stuff 0 Jess 0 5

Preston

February 23, 2011 5:35 PM

Good, indeed by Preston

His tutors had always told him how very intelligent he was, and Preston had no doubt about it. More so, if you compared him to his little brother and cousin, since they were only above average. Maybe the only one that could match him was Bianca, but she was a girl, and she did not need to be intelligent. She was being groomed to be the perfect society wife, there was no need for a girl to be smart, there really wasn’t. Not that Preston competed against his sister; they had different subjects and whatnot. Now, that was why the redhead was excited about rooming with Arthur Carey, from the little he knew about him, he was certain he would be an splendid and worthy adversary in the academic field. The Vermont native was going to make a name for himself and his family even if that meant engaging in a deathly academic battle with Arthur or his twin, Arnold. His mission was to remind people that the Stratford line was still alive and kicking, and would make a comeback into Pureblood society. Whatever it took.

When Arthur said yes to his suggestion, Preston couldn’t suppress the smug look that crept on his face, he liked when people did what he wanted. He nodded to Arthur´s suggestion and began perusing his book for some useful information on Circe. It was a good thing to have someone challenging as Arthur, he decided. It would be good for him and keep him on his toes, but in the end he would win. He was sure of it. While his partner went to retrieve more books, he began writing on a piece of parchment, with his neat handwriting, every fact he had on the potioneer in a bullet-point format. It would make writing the essay easier.

*Circe had been born in Ancient Greece
*She used potions to turn her enemies into animals and then trap them
*She discovered the use of Belladonna as a poison and began using it in numerous potions.
*She created the first human-animal changing potion (a cousin to the Polyjuice Potion)
*Circe also created the Confusing Concoction, which was later perfected by Wallace Nair.

Those were the only real facts he could come up with for the time being, he would need to wait for Arthur and the new books.

Preston was confident that this assignment was going to be fun and interesting. He waited for a few minutes for his partner to come back, he was tapping his fingers on the desk, when he did. The redhead looked up when Arthur asked him a question, a very good question. He stayed silent for a few seconds, pondering his answer, he couldn’t answer with whatever happened to pop up in his mind, it had to be a good solid one.

“I think people look for a higher being to be reassured, or blame things on it. Yes, there are superior people in this world, but they get their ranking by giving humanity something important, like Circe did, or Merlin. But no, they are not mystical or anything like that.” That was his opinion on things, Preston was of the idea that the world was ruled by intelligent, important people, not by beings that did not exist. “What do you think about that?”

0 Preston Good, indeed 0 Preston 0 5

Arnold

February 26, 2011 8:05 PM

They're more interesting, anyway. by Arnold

Arnold had been half-expecting an argument over his attempt to assign roles, a Derwent Pierce was something like an Anthony Carey and so not really supposed to take direction from people his own age who didn’t even have significant inheritances, but Derryfour was willing to go along with him. It was a little strange, especially now that his brother Anthony was old enough to be aware that he was not the only Anthony and that it meant something not to be, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Fantastic,” Arnold said.

Things were seldom that simple with his brothers. Arthur usually acted as the mediator, trying to keep Arnold and Anthony from both doing something regrettable when Arnold forgot that he was older and supposed to be above that, but he almost never went along with either of them when it came down to it. It didn’t help the feeling between the three of them, either, that their grandfather and great-great-grandfather almost seemed to encourage Arthur and Anthony to go their own ways, but even their parents, who disapproved of any of them quarrelling, would step in twice as quickly if it were Anthony and Arnold than if it were Anthony and Arthur or Arthur and Arnold. Arnold had noticed that years ago, which meant Arthur must have known it since birth, and he thought even Anthony was starting to notice.

Arthur shared that in common with their elders, too. He’d yell at Arnold if it was them fighting, or just act very aloof and superior in an attempt to embarrass him into backing down, but if Arnold even got too rough with Anthony flying around with their cousins on the grounds, his twin would become nearly hysterical. What made that even stranger was that, the rest of the time, Arthur didn’t even really seem to like Anthony.

“Do you have any ideas about how you want to present?” Arnold offered. This was how one conducted a school partnership, according to Father. Arnold thought he might spend more time, overall, with Grandfather, but Father did get along with people better than Grandfather did, so it seemed safe enough to take his advice in this area as often as he could remember to.

0 Arnold They're more interesting, anyway. 181 Arnold 0 5

Arthur

February 26, 2011 10:32 PM

Or so we hope by Arthur

Arthur listened to Preston’s thoughts with his head tilted slightly to the right, trying to remember if the word he was looking for was hamartia or hubris. Or if either of them was the word he was looking for at all. Preston wasn’t, after all, declaring himself one of those superior people in so many words, but he was suggesting a universe in which nothing above humans existed.

On some level, he thought everyone must believe that, deep down, except maybe a few very religious people. They were taught not to lie, but when it was in their own best interests, or that of their family, almost everyone would. Historically, the ties of family came before all else; many religions he’d read about even institutionalized it, which was why Arthur found the Christian tradition confusing. He supposed it might be one thing for Muggles, but he could, at least on some level, continue to exist here after he died if he wanted, which made the chances that he would ever put an abstract cause above his twin brother in the hopes of some kind of eternal reward extremely low. Not least because he couldn’t even wrap his mind around it. Arnold was often irritating, caused him half the problems he’d ever had in life, but Arthur considered him something like his left hand: he might survive the loss, but he’d never be quite right again, or able to get by as well as he had before.

Hubris, he thought, drifting back into his original line of thought. Excessive pride. Hamartia, in every use he could remember except one, designated fatal flaws in general. So hubris was a sub-set, and he could come up with no better descriptor with which to replace it.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said honestly when asked his own opinion, then slipped back into a persona based on his Latin tutor without any difficultly, even starting to raise his hand to adjust glasses he wasn’t wearing. “I can’t say I know a great deal about it, but I’ve read about prophecies and time manipulations, and it – “ he gestured futilely – “reads as if we don’t have control over some things, which makes me wonder what does. And there’s ritual magic.” Something which he’d only caught passing mentions of in his reading, so he hoped it wasn’t asked about too much; he could bluff, but he didn’t like to.

He leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbow without noticing. His chin settled against the heel of his hand, fingers curled almost all the way in. “It’s funny,” he said dreamily, his voice a little muffled by his hand. “We invoke Merlin, but no one ever tries to claim Athena was just a witch. As far as I know, anyway.”

So many books. So much knowledge. He sometimes grew impatient with having to always receive knowledge instead of finding new, but then he was confronted with the vast, indifferent body of all that had been found before his great-great-grandfather’s great-great-great-grandfathers ever lived. Going to his common room was always a humbling experience, since it involved walking through the library and realizing that, even if he started at once and spent every moment of the next seven years at it, without breaks for class or sleep or food or anything, he couldn’t finish every book in there. He believed there were still discoveries to be made, things to find out that no one had found before because they just didn’t think to look there, but sometimes, it was harder to keep his faith in that than it was at others.

He noticed how he was sitting, and that he was biting his lip the way he did when he was thinking, and corrected both problems. “But how do you decide what’s valuable? A – contribution? I always wonder. Arnold and I are twins, and we don’t care for all of the same things. Who’s right?”

0 Arthur Or so we hope 0 Arthur 0 5

Preston

February 27, 2011 7:00 PM

I just know it by Preston

Preston avidly listened to Arthur answer his question. There was something about initiating a debate that excited the redhead. It was always nice to exchange opinions with people that actually had a clue about what he was talking about, in his case it had always been his tutor, since his father rarely talked with him. Reese Stratford was always very busy handling their chain of Apothecaries in Vermont, but when they did talk it was a rather awesome. His father knew a lot about things. In some level, Preston was happy he wasn’t the next in line because that meant that he would be able to actually pursue his preferred career path, and it did not have to do with running a business. That small piece of knowledge gave him a big satisfaction. Though, that did not meant he actually had an idea of what he wanted to do once he grew-up and became an adult. The redhead saw school as a way of discovering just that, time to store all kinds of knowledge for future use.

In Arthur, he saw a worthy adversary; their relationship had the potential to grow into something interesting and fulfilling. Arthur’s statement on his knowledge of the subject amused him, it was a way of stating that he was proficient in it, but with a touch of humility.

“Well, from what I have read, research by international renown Healers say that Seers walk among us due to the fact that they have use of a part of their brain that most magical people don’t. As for time manipulation, time-turners were invented during the 18th century by a wizard, time was there waiting to be harnessed by someone,” Preston scratched his nose before continuing. “Now, I don’t have enough information to discuss ritual magic, but its magic, it is part of us. Magical people use it and mold it to their will.” It was his opinion based on what he knew, from everything he had read during study hours while being home-schooled. When kids were out playing Quidditch or Magical Quest or Aurors and dark wizards, he had been reading on his topics of interest. “The world evolved, it was the natural way of things, not the whim of a higher being. Besides, magic and power are tangible in some way, a higher being is not. How can you look up to something that you can’t even experience?”

Preston closed the book he had used to make the notes, and looked at Arthur once again, his green-eyes taking in his partner´s slouched sitting position. He decided to not comment on it, and just keep replying to what have been asked. “That is because ´Thank Merlin´ has a better ring to ´Thank Athena´,” he said as an attempt of a joke. Preston did not have that much experience with jokes. People tended to find his sense of humor not funny. “But yes, I concur, Athena should be given more credit on her accomplishments.” That particular witch had been one of the first magical folk to successfully use Arithmacy as a complement of magic. There were a lot of branches of magic that had a lot to offer, and he wanted to do a big discovery that would place him among those superior wizards. That was why it was important to study and research and gain power.

“I think that every experience is valuable in some way. For example, you may be interested in Potions, but your brother in Care of Magical Creatures. Each experience can help complete another one. Say that you are making a potion that will successfully cure lycanthropy and you just need one more ingredient, but you can’t find it, and then Arnold discovers a new magical species and something extracted from it is your key ingredient,” he took a breath and continued. “You see everything is valuable to some point, what seems useless can become something very important.” The redhead brushed his spotless robes, just for something to do. He had talked a lot, something that tended to happen when he was debating in some way.

0 Preston I just know it 0 Preston 0 5

Josephine Owen, Pecari

February 28, 2011 10:53 AM

It's very inventive torture by Josephine Owen, Pecari

Josephine had never been looking forward to potions. Even if her brother hadn't gone to school before her and told her a little about the class, just the concept of mixing concoctions for a full class and trying to remember ingredients lists for each of them had been enough to put her off. On top of that, her potions kit included things like beetle eyes, rats tails and leech juice. Gross and gross again. Admittedly, Josephine didn't mind getting her hands dirty from time to time, if she had to clean something grubby by hand or do some gardening, or occasionally she would accompany her siblings on some adventure that would leave them all looking as if they'd been in a swamp, but she had no intention at all of touching things like rats' tails. They could carry diseases for all she knew.

Besides, James had claimed that Professor Fawcett was his favorite teacher in school, and as such Josephine was predisposed to dislike him. She had guessed right - he was stuffy, strict and dull, and that's exactly why James liked him. She was one of those in the room who had indeed been warned of the delights of potions classes, and really just just wanted to get this class over and done with so she could go back to something far more pleasant. Luckily, the assignment for the day wasn't to stew rodent tails in leech juice, but to work together with others in the class to research a potioneer from off the board. Well that sounded okay. So long as Josephine didn't have to talk when they were presenting, that sounded okay to her. All she had to do was work with some people who looked nice - that meant working with other girls, of course. Boys weren't usually nice and could be bossy, Josephine had found. Luckily, she turned in her seat to find two girls on the row behind her who'd just agreed to work together. Putting on her best smile, Josephine shuffled her chair back a little and said, "Hello, is it okay if I join in, too? I like doing research," she added just in case it would help sway their decision to let her join their group.

0 Josephine Owen, Pecari It's very inventive torture 0 Josephine Owen, Pecari 0 5

Derry Four

February 28, 2011 12:13 PM

That has been my experience as well by Derry Four

Derry marked a few notes off onto his parchment so he'd remember what he was responsible for researching, and then turned his attention to Arnold's next question about the presentation. Derry frowned thoughtfully, not really sure how to handle that.

"Mostly Hamlet had me write essays," he admitted, "and when he made me tell him about a topic, he just asked questions and I answered them." He sat up, a brilliant idea occurring to him, and he grinned at his partner. "I know! One of us can pretend to be Walter King, and the other one can interview him! It won't be boring that way!"

If it had been him an Thaddeus the roles would have been obvious. Thad liked asking questions way too much to really enjoy answering them. So Derry would have just told him he was going to be the reporter, and Derry would be the potion master and thus avoid the whole pointless discussion where Thad tried to politely let Derry have the 'better' role. But with Arnold, it was different. Arnold wasn't the the kid cousin who followed him around everywhere and who Derry was comfortable just assigning responsibility to.

Arnold was his own age, which was a weird position of equality that Derry had never experienced before Sonora. He was supposed to defer to adults, which he usually did, and he was supposed to look out for the Thad and the twins when they were all together because he was the oldest of the children, but what did he do with people who were the same age? His only model was the twins but it seemed like they could just look at each other and know what the other one was thinking most times.

Looking at Arnold did not grant him any additional information for which role he would prefer. So Derry had to resort to asking, "You want to be King or the reporter? I don't care either way." That his idea might not be accepted at all didn't even occur to him. It was genius.

1 Derry Four That has been my experience as well 189 Derry Four 0 5

Arthur

March 04, 2011 11:50 PM

Then here's to Good by Arthur

To his mild dismay, Arthur realized he had been pulled into a debate, and was taking a position. He didn’t like taking positions. That meant excluding every other position, and when he was not sure what the real truth was, sure in his bones, then that was a very bad thing.

He had started it, though, and he was closer to believing his position than he was to believing in Preston’s, so he could only continue now. “I’ve read about some people who believe they have seen and experienced their deity,” he said. “There’s other explanations for how they might have done that, but there’s also theirs.” He bit his lower lip, trying to find exactly how to express the disconnect he could feel between their arguments. “But I think we’re looking at two different things. Of course time was there, and there’s something unique about Seers – I think the two must be related – but we don’t have perfect control. Half the time – forgive me the, ah, repetitiveness – it’s trying to defy prophecies that makes them come true. So how do we have the power?”

He laughed, startled, by the quip about the standard mild oath of choice among wizards. “I don’t know,” he said. “If I were going to pray to something, I could do far worse than strategy and wisdom. Better than a mere politician, anyway.” Arthur had always loved that section of history, though he couldn’t help but feel a certain irritation that the Muggle at the center of Merlin, Morgan, Viviane, and Nimue’s struggle for power had been called….Arthur, at least in transliteration. He almost felt as though he needed to redeem his name, especially now that one of the family leaders was called Morgaine.

Fighting over control of an individual Muggle would be considered in bad taste now, but still, Merlin was worth some recognition. There were worse things to do than gain control of a country, though few as bad as losing it because you were stupid about women. Still, Arthur didn’t think that was going to be the way he went. He’d leave that kind of thing, for the most part, to Anthony. He’d need something to do while he waited the better part of two centuries for all the other Anthonies to die, especially if the Anthonies that came after him were boring. That wasn’t very likely, but it was always possible.

“Hm,” he said to Preston’s argument on subjects, not touching the idea of Arnold doing research for now. “I agree with you that all the, the fields of study have value. I was talking more about ideas – like whether or not you believe in witches working, or reading some books, is the family more important than the state, or – “ he grinned, the expression making it to his eyes for a second – “a higher power. Those things.”

0 Arthur Then here's to Good 0 Arthur 0 5

Eliza

March 05, 2011 12:21 AM

Mine is very...not by Eliza

“That sounds great,” Eliza said when Jessica suggested she take the biographical stuff while Eliza took potions. That meant that, if she decided to, she could mix it all up and place the mention of beauty potions somewhere other than she’d originally said she was going to. It had barely been out of her mouth when she’d started to wonder if she shouldn’t conceal it in the middle instead of tacking it on at the end, because couldn’t that make it stand out even more? “We’re bound to cross over at some point, but if we don’t finish today, we’ll schedule a time to meet in the library and get it all sorted out.”

Since this was Fawcett, Eliza knew she was going to be going over it, looking for ways to make it better, right up until the end. This was her best class, but he was, in some ways, her hardest teacher, and he’d done a good job of drilling it into her head that there was no such thing as a written assignment that couldn’t be improved.

It wasn’t quite as strong of an impression, but she was also starting to get the idea that there was no such thing as enough research to know all about a topic, though she wasn’t as good with carrying through to the last minute on that one. At some point, she got tired and kept working from the same books, just fixing up the actual quotes from them and sentence structure and stuff. She didn’t know when she’d reach that point for this one, but she did know it would probably take a while. Eliza just couldn’t see the Fawce, as she’d heard Grayson Wright call him before, putting someone on a list when her only contribution was in the area of making rich women prettier, but since rich women had, by definition, lots of money to spend to make a name bigger, she was afraid it was going to be harder than she might have liked to dig something Fawcett-worthy out of the books. Especially since at least two of the titles she scanned were focused on that.

“The big thing is getting enough detail so we look like we know what we’re talking about without going on so much that we actually talk for too long,” she added, since this was a rule of Father’s she was sure of. He said he couldn’t even really explain how to hit that balance, that it varied from case to case, it was just something you had to develop a “feel” or an “ear” for. Eliza didn’t like that kind of thing, she liked for things to be straightforward and easy to understand, but telling Father that hadn’t changed anything at all.

0 Eliza Mine is very...not 0 Eliza 0 5

Arnold

March 08, 2011 11:38 PM

As interesting as this presentation may be? by Arnold

Arnold nodded his sympathy to the problem of having not really had an assignment exactly like this before. He and Arthur were required to speak about topics sometimes, but that was usually in language lessons or etiquette ones, which were structured as, respectively, debates and polite party conversations. Always they had scripts, or if they didn’t and were expected to find the right words themselves, they were at least handed the topic or verb tense or whatever it was and given an idea of what side they were supposed to support. Arthur said he thought they might be asked to be more original later in their educations, but, having never been older as far as Arnold knew, even he couldn’t be sure.

Arnold wasn’t sure if he should hope for that or not. It might be more interesting, and maybe it would be easier to argue what he really thought instead of being required to form arguments for both sides of an issue just to prove he could, but having opinions meant maybe having the wrong opinions, and then letting Arthur and the tutor and, by extension, the entire family know about it.

He hated being wrong. Hated it. It made him feel almost sick just to have the tutors give him that look, like he hadn’t done enough; when Father did it, he was living proof that it wasn’t possible to will oneself out of existence. Even Mother’s disapproval stung, when it came, though it was rarer than anyone else’s including Arthur’s. Only with Aunt Gigi did it not really bother him, but that was because Aunt Gigi was all wound up and something was always on her last nerve and she had such a house full of kids that half the time when she was yelling at him, she seemed convinced he was actually James or Brandon and had, on at least one occasion that he could remember, been so out of it during a scolding that she called him Theresa. And even when she did remember who he was, she was more likely to call him "One-half" than "Arnold," because she'd given all the great-great-grandchildren with the Carey surname numbers, in order of age, to count off during visits to make sure no one had fallen in the river, and he and Arthur were each considered half of "One."

He was surprised by his partner’s suggestion, but it wasn’t that much different than when he and Arthur were asked to pretend they were grown-up strangers at a party and that the real Theresa was Arthur’s wife, and he didn’t have any better ideas, so he smiled back and nodded. “You can be Master King,” he said, since it seemed to him that would be the role that involved more talking about things Arnold had always been firmly under the impression were not supposed to be talked about. “If you want,” he added.

0 Arnold As interesting as this presentation may be? 181 Arnold 0 5

Preston

March 09, 2011 5:46 PM

Cheers by Preston

Preston liked debates, it was a way of making sure people heard his opinions, but what he didn’t like was a debate where he was not fully prepared. Like this one. He had his opinions, strong opinions at that, but well-rounded, well-based opinions were stronger than just simple opinions made out of the little knowledge he possessed about the subject. Right now, he couldn’t do anything about it, they had engaged in one, and it would be rude to end it just like that. For better or worse, he would stick to what he believed in until it ended. He didn’t want to come across as a quitter, not in front of Arthur Carey. Preston still thought that they could be something awesome in the future, since Arthur had the potential to challenge him in every aspect of Sonora life. The redhead loved challenges.

“People will believe in anything as long as they have the need to believe in it,” he responded, his finger scratching his chin. “I read somewhere that Muggle believe the Loch Ness Monster inhabits a lake in Scotland, they have little to no evidence that it actually exists. In reality it has been established by Magizoologists that it is a Kelpie, but Muggles see it as something extraordinary.” The redhead took a deep breath, “Their evidence is some sketchy pictures.”

The redhead rested his chin on the palm of his hand, “I think people believe what gives them some sort of comfort, even when they aren’t certain it does exist.” He tapped his fingers on the desk and listened to Arthur talk, he grinned when he found a comment rather amusing, “Yes, better something else than a politician.” As a rule, his family stayed away from politics, they preferred to dwell on the economic side of life. His father thought that politics was full with wizards and witches with very dark ulterior motives, so he stayed away from it. Preston couldn’t even remember if he ever voted, he was going with no. His father had little to no faith in politicians.

At Arthur’s last comment, Preston stayed silent for a few minutes coming up with a suitable answer. For one, his family didn’t believe in witches working, they were supposed to be good and nice so they could marry into a good family and do their duty by expanding the family’s power. But he knew that some Pureblood families were not against it, so it was hard to answer the comment. “It depends on the importance one gives to that idea, I don’t think one is more than important than the other,” he tapped his chin, “it depends on how the person in question acts on it.”

0 Preston Cheers 0 Preston 0 5

Arthur

March 10, 2011 1:24 AM

Cheers by Arthur

Arthur was not entirely sure how the Loch Ness kelpie had come into it, but he countered the point because it was there to be countered. “To them, I imagine it is something extraordinary,” he said. “But that’s not the point – those who took the photos know it’s real. I don’t see how your argument negates mine, the one I made.”

It was all clear in his head – about how individual experience could be doubted by those on the outside, but how could they prove that another’s experience was not real, be the topic whether a Muggle had seen a publicity-hungry kelpie or a wizard a vision of Dionysus? – but he couldn’t quite articulate it. Arthur found that immensely frustrating, and it didn’t get less frustrating no matter how often it happened. He supposed that was good, since if he accepted it he would have no hope of working past it, and his tutors assured him that expressing himself would get easier with practice and accomplishments that expanded his vocabulary and reasoning skills, but still, how long was it going to take?

Adults usually assumed Arthur was the patient twin, the calm counterbalance to Arnold, but he honestly thought he might be more impatient than his brother in the ways that mattered. Arnold didn’t seem really concerned about growing up. He knew they were expected to marry well , and was very aware that he was going to be short changed in terms of inheritances and that sort of thing, but unless he was fighting with Anthony or maybe-but-please-Merlin-let-him-not-be getting annoyed that Derwent Pierce IV had a numeral and he didn’t, these things were not matters Arnold considered particularly relevant to his everyday life, and he was usually happy with his place in the world right now. Arthur, on the other hand, just saw all the things he couldn’t do, either because he really couldn’t or because he was blocked from them, just because he was eleven, and it annoyed him. He was just smart enough not to tell people about it.

Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes he told Arnold more than, when he thought about it later, he wished he had. He didn’t think Arnold would ever try to hurt him, but Arthur was, at least a little, secretive by nature. He didn’t like for anyone to know too much.

There was a bit of a delay before Preston responded to his point on ideas, during which Arthur made some notes. He tilted his head sideways as he considered it. “My grandparents always say there are right ideas and wrong ideas, and we should at least not pay attention to the wrong ones if we can’t get rid of them,” he said. “But sometimes I think that if that were true, my family wouldn’t have five branches.”

0 Arthur Cheers 0 Arthur 0 5

Derry Four

March 11, 2011 4:19 PM

I am not sure anything is that interesting by Derry Four

Arnold volunteered to take Thad's - er, the reporter's role, which left him to be Walter King, which he was perfectly fine with Derry. He'd probably have to remember a lot of stuff, but he thought maybe he could use some flashcards to help him if he forgot something. That should work. And if he completely blanked, which didn't happen often but wasn't impossible, the format would probably even let Arnold prompt him a little.

"Great," he agreed to their role assignments, and nodded. "I'm Walter King, and you're interviewing me. Perfect."

He looked down at the list again and then back to where he'd written down the details of the assignment. "So do we want to meet in library sometime and research together, or just read up on him separately, and compare notes later?"

1 Derry Four I am not sure anything is that interesting 189 Derry Four 0 5

Preston

March 11, 2011 7:55 PM

Triple Cheers by Preston

There was one thing Preston believed in and that was everything that could be based on facts. He would believe in a deity when he saw solid facts of its existence. As it was, he just believed in knowledge, because it was plastered on books and it could be seen throughout the world. It wasn’t fiction, it was real and he could even touch it. The knowledge he had acquired through his studies was easily seen in everyday things, like gravity and how magic worked. What he still yet to see was a deity floating about and using their powers for controlling humanity. Every little thing that happened in the world could be traced back to solid facts, not something ethereal. Yet, he understood and respected other people’s opinions. Differences was something necessary in life, otherwise things would get boring.

Completely dismissing the Loch Ness Kelpie subject, since he saw that the topic had already ended, the redhead first-year Aladren opened a book to continue with the assignment on Circe. He enjoyed these kinds of conversations, but he couldn’t procrastinate on classes. Plus, he saw Arthur taking notes and he could not be left behind by his roommate.

In terms of family, Preston had a lot of that. His great-great-great grandparents were still alive, and they were as conservative as they came. Bianca and Ignatious Randolph, had great expectations for their family members, and they did everything in their power to help them achieve those goals. Even when his father didn’t like them that much, they did spend some weeks out of the year with them in Vermont. Grammy Bianca and Granppy Ignatious, along with Great Grandmother Marie and Great Grandfather Aaron, and Grandmother Arabella with Grandfather Roman, stayed with the Stratfords for at least two weeks. Preston was sure the big family reunion was meant to see how the family was doing in financial and social terms, especially since they were connected with the Randolph’s. In comparison to them, the Stratfords were a small Pureblood family with wealth but moderate power. He even wondered why her Grandmother Arabella had married his Grandfather Roman.

Anyways, he began taking more notes while Arhur was talking. Preston was very good at multi-tasking, and when he finished talking, he addressed the comment. “Ideas are ideas, whether they are right or wrong. There is always a ying to a yang.” He stopped writing and looked up at his partner, “Like I said, it depends on how people act on the idea. Also, perceptions are very important, because what I see as right you may see as wrong.” Preston scratched his head, not sure if he was making any sense at all. In his mind it made perfect sense, but maybe he wasn’t articulating his idea in a way that Arthur would find them particularly understandable.

0 Preston Triple Cheers 0 Preston 0 5