Connections, connections on Transfiguration

Professor Wolfe

June 28, 2010 9:01 PM

Transfiguration Beginners part 2 by Professor Wolfe

Midterm had been exhausting for Janette. She had left the school to see her family in New York for a few weeks, and had found it to be very enjoyable. Her father was still the happy go lucky man hes always had been, and her grandmother was still kicking at a hundred and three. Her sisters were still as disagreeable as ever, but she had enjoyed seeing them nonetheless. Still, she was very happy to be back at Sonora, and back to her students.

"I hope your holidays were enjoyable," she began, "And I want to hear about them.Your assignment today is to transfigure the three items before you, using the spell, Mutatio, into something that describes what you enjoyed about your midterm. Instead of being related or something similar, they dont have to be. I would also like for you to write a three paragraph essay on what each item means to you and how it relates to midterm. You may begin."

An easy assignment, Janette thought, there shouldn't be too many complaints. She knew not many students were ready to be thrust back into work so she didnt want to have to push them to there limits yet. Still, she had papers to grade, so with that thought in mind she set down to her task.

Subthreads:

Not having much luck with this by Neal Padrig, Pecari with Mariana Ravenmore, Neal

Busy-work is boring by Tristan Volkmann (Pecari) with Brad Hayman (Aladren), Tristan

Doing what I do best. by Rachel Bauer with Dani Adair, Dani

Connections, connections by Raines Bradley, Crotalus with Samantha Hamilton, Aladren, Raines

Examining the stolen goods :) by Kirstenna Melcher with Sam Bauer

Getting stuck.... by Jane Carey

0 Professor Wolfe Transfiguration Beginners part 2 0 Professor Wolfe 1 5

Neal Padrig, Pecari

June 29, 2010 2:59 PM

Not having much luck with this by Neal Padrig, Pecari

Staying up late was supposed to be a bad thing for kids to do, but Neal had stayed up late for as long as he could remember.

It didn’t matter if he was in the car and the drive was long, if it were dark out, his parents told him to, or if he had gotten so tired his joints became too stiff to do anything but lie still, he just couldn’t get himself to dose off. Some nights he wanted to sleep so badly that he’d frustrate himself over it. On nights like those he’d be rolling and sighing with tears pricking his eyes because he was tired but he just couldn’t relax and let himself slip off.

Other nights when he was calm and didn’t feel like he had to put up a fight to make himself rest, he’d blink his eyes in the stanch darkness of the room he was in and let his mind wonder. No subject was unreachable, no time limits to cut thoughts short, no one to share anything with. Just him and the dark and his mind that wouldn’t quiet down until he had gone through every single thought a person could have.

Last night had been one of those nights, and those were the nights he got a better sleep. It was refreshing to wake up and feel livelier than he had the day before, it really was. Neal always thought that the morning after nights like those it meant that he would start a pattern of going to bed and sleeping like most good kids did. But the pattern never lasted. Soon, he knew, he’d find himself in a state of aggravation because sleep wouldn’t come as easy as it had before.

He wasn’t sick. Neal’s parents thought he was and were panicked enough to call up a psychiatrist to get their son over his insomnia, but he wasn’t. Really. He didn’t think he was, so he wasn’t, and it was just that simple.

Having been somewhat early to class, Neal had gotten a chance to pick a seat and let his thoughts scramble until Professor Wolfe started to give directions. Neal was glad he felt fresh for this class, because he really liked Transfiguration and he really liked Professor Wolfe, even though he thought he was better at Charms. And this was the class where he made one of his first friends, and his closest one, Mariana. Even though he hadn’t really talk to her much lately, or to Caleb, it didn’t mean he didn’t think about them. He liked to think about all of his friends, because he hadn’t had any before Sonora.

And even though the assignment was easy, Neal liked it anyways. He didn’t like having to write out anything, but he was even okay with that because it wasn’t that much to put down. It might even be a good thing because sometimes Neal thought he didn’t make much sense to people. This was a great way to make sure he was clear about where he was coming from.

Like the first item he noticed in front of him was a delicate-looking locket with a thin chain, which Neal wanted to transfigure into a pocket watch. This couldn’t possibly make much sense to anyone unless he explained why. So in his first paragraph he wrote how the watch represented time. The time he spent at home was his favorite part of Midterm. He read over what he wrote and he thought it sounded wrong, but he couldn’t be sure since there didn’t seem like there could be a right or wrong answer for something like this.

It took him several tries to make any progress with transforming the locket, and the most he had managed to change was that the locket had all the face hands inside of it, just none of them wanted to move. “I don’t remember the spell being this hard,” Neal said flatly to the person beside him after his ninth attempt at the spell. “Are you having better luck with your items?”

0 Neal Padrig, Pecari Not having much luck with this 0 Neal Padrig, Pecari 0 5

Mariana Ravenmore

June 29, 2010 10:17 PM

We have different results apparently. by Mariana Ravenmore

Mariana walked inside the transfiguration classroom and sat next to Neal, though he hadnt noticed her yet. She didnt mind. She had spent the better part of her day gathering books in the library, and though she thoroughly enjoyed her time there, she was glad to be out. She loved the library on a normal day, but seeing minute damages to books always displeased her.

As Professor Wolfe instructed them, she was relieved. She didnt much feel like learning something new, which was an oddity for her. She usually loved learning. But it was relaxing, because not only would she be able to practice her skills, she would also be able to write. She hoped Professor Wolfe didnt mind her writing it in a story form. She didnt mind essays, but she was better when writing stories.

Her three items werent anything special. She would focus on them relating her writings and her poetry, as well as the snow.

“I don’t remember the spell being this hard,” Neal said to her. “Are you having better luck with your items?”

She glanced at him and smiled. "I didnt have any problems before. Hello, Neal!" She said with a smile, much more cheerful than when she first met him. He was still the only friend she had in this place, she found it hard to converse with other people, but she was glad she had the chance to speak with him again. The worst about midterm was the loneliness that had surrounded her, but classes were back and she was happy.

0 Mariana Ravenmore We have different results apparently. 0 Mariana Ravenmore 0 5

Neal

June 30, 2010 12:08 AM

Slowly making progress... by Neal

Mariana looked a lot happier then Neal had remembered, but it was a good sort of change that had him smiling for her. Even though he couldn’t help but feel stupid for not noticing she was right next to him, at least it meant they could catch-up. “Hey, Mariana. It’s been awhile.” He greeted happily. “Yeah, you did really well the first time. I guess you just have a knack for this sort of stuff.”

He looked back at his stubborn object and raised his wand at it, ready to try again. He focused as much as he could, willing for his first object to just be done already. His face brightened when he noticed the hands of his clock moving. Finally, object one was out of the way.

Neal turned his sight back to the Aladren girl, wondering how to approach the topic of Midterm. He was curious about what she did during break, but he was hesitant about bringing it up. The way she talked about her home life to him before was still clear in his mind. He didn’t understand very much about her situation outside of Sonora, but when she confided in him that she was locked up with only house elves for company he knew it couldn’t be anything good. He was lonely sometimes, he had some personal troubles of his own, but it just seemed like she was on a whole other level that no one could really reach.

“Write anything good recently?” It was, he thought, a good question. That way he’d avoid the possibly bothersome Midterm (his wasn’t exciting anyways) and still they could talk about something they both liked. He knew she liked to write poems and stories and honestly was curious about what sorts of things she wrote of. He never got to read what she worked on last time, but maybe one day she’d let him.

0 Neal Slowly making progress... 0 Neal 0 5

Mariana

June 30, 2010 3:08 AM

Any progress is good. by Mariana

She smiled at him and watched as he performed the spell on one of his objects, nodding in agreement when he noted her talent for transfiguration. Yes, she supposed she did have a knack for it, Mariana thought, fiddling with her wand, but potions was her favorite class, ever. She turned to her objects once more, turning one into a quill, another, into parchment, and then, deciding against snow, she turned small pieces of ribbon into one large one, making a bookmark.

It wasnt done quickly, as it took a bit of concentration to turn a pencil into a quill, although paper into parchment wasnt too difficult. Still, she spent most of the time with the ribbons, because the delicate material could split if done wrong. Mariana turned to Neal again when he asked, “Write anything good recently?” Her face immediately brightened at the thought of sharing her work. No one usually payed enough attention to know she wrote, so it was an opportunity she wasn't about to miss. As she reached into her pack, she hesitated.

Her journal was something private. It held all her inner wishes, her hopes and dreams, and things shed rather not share with anybody. True, Neal was her friend, but even though he was she couldnt share everything with him. So instead of pulling out her journal, she grabbed her notebook instead. It held all the first and second drafts of her stories and poems, and nothing too personal. She flipped through it, looking for something that related to her holidays. She paused when she found a few haikus, and a poem, showing them to Neal.

Snow kisses on the
parted lips of an angel
falling silently

-

Coldness sweeps over
holiday warmth and happy
smiles forgotten now

-

Musky books surround her
offering silent comfort,
companionship.

Remembering laughs
and silly games
with words and
hanging men
in her head.

Warmth floods her
very being,
of good
memories
washing away
the bad.

Musky books forgotten
she rises
to go to bed.

She blushed, remembering how she was thinking of Neal when she wrote that one. Mariana turned away, having forgotten that the opportunity also allowed her to be embarrassed, through her excitement.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good with poems, and haikus. Mostly I write stories." She hoped he liked them, she lived and breathed poetry and literature.

0 Mariana Any progress is good. 0 Mariana 0 5

Tristan Volkmann (Pecari)

July 01, 2010 3:50 AM

Busy-work is boring by Tristan Volkmann (Pecari)

Tristan’s light hazel eyes were glued to his latest issue of Quidditch Weekly instead of to Wolfe. He was excited to see his owl had brought it to him that morning so he’d have something more productive to do in class. The professors were boring after midterm and didn’t seem like they wanted to do much teaching. Tristan didn’t care since he knew most of what was going on anyways, but he was starting to get more bored with things than he’d been last semester.

When he overheard Wolfe talking about their assignment Tristan rolled his eyes and stuck his head deeper into his magazine. Great, more boring stuff to remind him how much of a waste of time it was to be in class when he could be out practicing on his broomstick. At least he knew the spell enough to know that trying to multitask with it and change more than one object at once wasn’t a good idea. This meant he had less of a chance of panicking and setting things on fire, which also meant he wouldn’t get wet and have the professor come over. Ugh, that was the worst.

Tristan looked up at his desk to see what his stuff was. A small black ball, a popsicle stick, and a white piece of yarn. Tristan arched a brow at the objects. What a weird combination. Thinking that the sooner he got through the assignment, the sooner he could go back to his much more important reading material, Tristan Mutatio-ed his black ball to make it slightly larger and more red so it’d be a Quaffle. It wasn’t as large as a real Quaffle but he hadn’t been given much to work with so he ignored it and kept going. The stick become a small model broom. The yarn he was stuck on.

He tried to think of what he did over break besides Quidditch. Sleep, eat, talk to family, open gifts and that was it. Oh but the weather was colder in Long Island, so the yarn could be a scarf! Tristan then transformed the yarn into a scarf that looked like it’d fit his finger before it fit him, but once again he blamed it on not having much to work with. And besides this was Transfiguration, not some art class. Why’ he have to be so creative all the time?

Then he looked at his paper and he raised his eyebrow again. Now he had to write some dumb paper. But how long was it supposed to be? He couldn’t remember. “Hey you,” he tapped his wand on the desk space of the person next to them for their attention. “How long is the essay-thing supposed to be?”

0 Tristan Volkmann (Pecari) Busy-work is boring 0 Tristan Volkmann (Pecari) 0 5

Brad Hayman (Aladren)

July 02, 2010 12:36 AM

Alliteration is awesome by Brad Hayman (Aladren)

When Professor Wolfe started talking, the smell of freshly-baked, green and red sprinkle-filled Christmas cookies wafting through the air of his wonderful home was the first thing that came to Brad’s mind. He then thought of the big Christmas tree that had graced his living room in all its festive glory, with its ridiculously large, blinky lights and its shiny silver tinsel. After that, he pictured the awesome Iron Man comics…but the elated smile he wore as he relished all of these fond memories immediately disappeared at the thought of his stupid cousin Jerry ripping them into pieces. That kid was a criminal. He deserved to be locked up for good! The only good thing about Jerry was that he’d given him a black eye, which made him feel more heroic because it proved that he’d tried his best to fight off a supervillain. It proved he had true superhero potential!

The assignment involved things he’d enjoyed about his midterm, though, so he tried his best to store Jerry in the back of his mind for the lesson. He could go back to mentally beating the creep up later today.

Excited to try Mutatio again after his break from magic, he looked down at the three items on his desk: an elm leaf, a plush taco with fluffy meat, lettuce, and tomatoes sticking out of it, and a blank index card. Hmmm, he thought, stroking his chin. What to do, what to do… The first comparison that came to mind was that the leaf’s shape resembled that of a Christmas tree. He knew the objects had to be similar for the spell to work, so it would probably be impossible to get a full-sized tree out of the Transfiguration. However, he was pretty sure he could get a miniature tree to work out.

He’d had trouble with the spell when he’d first tried it out a couple months ago, but he’d improved throughout the lesson and he was pretty sure he had it down now. He pictured his family Christmas tree in his mind minus all the decorations, which would make the Transfiguration a lot simpler. “Mutatio!” he exclaimed, doing the wand movement as best he could. The leaf expanded ever so slightly, but that was it. The first-year frowned at it. C’mon, you can do better than that! he scolded himself.

He took a deep breath to regain his complete and total focus on the spell. “Mutatio!” The leaf expanded even more and began its transformation; it turned a darker shade of green, and the tiny branches that were sprouting from it had a spikier texture. Brad grinned at the finished product, which was much better than he’d expected after the let-down of his first effort.

Next, he moved on to the taco. He smirked in amusement. What a funny object! He picked it up and squeezed it. Its soft feel reminded him of the way the Christmas cookies he and his family made felt when they first came out of the oven. He was much more motivated to do this Transfiguration than he’d been for the Christmas tree since it involved producing something extremely scrumptious that he could eat right here on the spot!

“Mutatio!” The spell worked the first time, which made him very happy with his spellwork. He was even happier to pick up the cookie and snack on it. “Mmmm…” Nothing like Transfigured, home-made goodness!

Someone interrupted him mid-bite with a tap on his desk and the words, “Hey, you.” A slightly irked Brad turned to the side to see what the boy wanted. He had to rush through the chewing and swallowing process, sacrificing his chance to fully savor the cookie. He furrowed his brow in annoyance. “I don’t know, a couple paragraphs?” Brad’s brain tended to shut off whenever his teachers said to write things. He wasn’t a writer at all. He looked over at the Interrupter’s objects to see if any of them could be Transfigured into another cookie that he could truly enjoy this time.

“Mind if I borrow that broom?” he asked, pointing to it. “The name’s Brad Hayman, by the by. What do you call yourself?” He tried to be friendly, but the interruption had bugged him.

0 Brad Hayman (Aladren) Alliteration is awesome 0 Brad Hayman (Aladren) 0 5

Rachel Bauer

July 02, 2010 1:50 PM

Doing what I do best. by Rachel Bauer

Her book and notebook were open on the desk in front of her, but Rachel’s full attention, in the moments before class, was on the round mirror inside her compact as she reapplied her lip gloss and reviewed her outfit with a critical eye.

Her turtleneck was a shade too bright a light blue to really qualify as a winter color, but Rachel felt that the silver hoops in her ears and slide around her neck, combined with the cut of the thing and her slightly heavier winter robes – and dear Merlin, did they ever need to convert to a system that did not require every single thing she wore for every single class except Dakin’s to go with dark green – over it, did enough to keep her from looking out of season. Real winter colors just didn’t really do much for her, even on years, like this one, when her hair darkened a few shades of blonde to accommodate the weather. She couldn’t say she was very happy about that, but she had a new line of hair-care potions waiting to be shown off to Veronica in her room, the outfit was okay, and she was no longer having any weird thoughts about her priorities, which was enough to make her decide she passed muster for the day.

She was still reluctant, however, to put away the compact and listen to Professor Wolfe. Her schoolwork was far, far simpler than keeping up appearances, because with schoolwork, there was an objective standard. Appearances were all subjective. She might think she was a ten today – okay, nine-ish – but what if the other girls disagreed with her? There was nothing to do but contemplate her wardrobe and magazines in equal measure and hope she got it right.

Professor Wolfe did nothing to reward her for her adherence to the rules. In fact, all she did was make Rachel pull the compact back out and, the second the teacher stopped talking, reapply her lip gloss faster than she would have thought she could wield the wand and not smear the gloss all over her face. She had not just asked them about their midterms.

Theoretically, it was okay to stay at school for midterm. Half the world had a screwed-up family anyway; while divorce wasn’t exactly common among the upper classes, Jeremy’s family was grandiose and tacky and new enough to get away with having a divorcee in the family without any real repercussions. Also, Veronica, who was either number one or number two in their year depending on how the rest of the Beginners regarded them, had a half-blood stepbrother, so unless they got in a super-cool transfer who became instantly popular and had a stable family next year, there was really nothing anyone except maybe Raines or Theo could say to her.

Practically, it meant that there was a good chance someone would see what she’d written and deduce that she was a complete loser. And that just wasn’t acceptable. Not after all the efforts she’d gone to over the past four years to make sure it never happened.

She wanted to write something extremely nasty, which would boil down to “my personal life is none of your business, get one of your own and teach us stuff,” but she was a little too wary of the system. Staying out of any kind of trouble was important, but it was doubly important for her. Momma made it clear to her, as often as possible, how much harder the Big Lie was going to make life for her after school, and she really didn’t need to draw the wrong kind of attention to herself while she was still at it and make things potentially that much worse. She had to be perfect in every way, or at least look like she was.

No sooner had she begun to panic, though, than the solution came to her: she would just lie. It wasn’t like she wasn’t good at it, and what was Wolfe going to do, write her mother to check up on her story? Yeah, right.

Taking her wand out of its protective cover, she transfigured a fake flower into a mini-Christmas tree. Momma liked Christmas trees, and she was sure the house had been full of huge, well-decorated ones. The candle puzzled her for a moment, but then she turned it into a champagne flute, to represent the parties she hadn’t attended because she’d been social networking with the portraits here. The stopped watch became nearly identical to the new sapphire-and-diamond ring on the longest finger of her right hand, for her presents, and she sat back, giving her brain a moment to relax before she started the business of trying to come up with a really convincing set of words. The objects would probably need refreshing before she handed them in, but that would be okay.

Looking around to stretch her neck, she caught the eye of the next seat over. “Well,” she said brightly, spreading her hands flat on her desk to better show off her shiny manicure, “are you having as much fun today as I am?”

16 Rachel Bauer Doing what I do best. 154 Rachel Bauer 0 5

Dani Adair

July 03, 2010 12:01 PM

I'm sure there are better things to be done. by Dani Adair

Was it really necessary to be that obsessed with one’s appearance? Dani didn’t understand why the girl next to her felt it necessary to check her appearance in the classroom. The entire point of being in a class was to learn. All right, granted, it wasn’t like she was a model student. There were more interesting things to do during class than to actually do the assignment, but making sure that one looked even more perfect didn’t chart high on her list. Seriously, couldn’t the girl even deal with having one hair out of place? Hadn’t she ever heard of the natural look?

Of course, this was probably odd coming from the girl that made it a point to stand out from other first years. As she liked Christmas quite well, Dani had opted to integrate a bit of it into her wardrobe. Her top was a burgundy color that actually went quite well with the school’s green robes. Her blonde hair and fair skin ensured that the outfit didn’t look absolutely dreary. To complete the outfit, she had charmed her nails a deeper burgundy than her shirt, almost black really, with the only other makeup being gray eyeliner to make her eyes stand out. All in all, she was a stark contrast to the other girl.

But perhaps, if she were trying to standout, this girl was trying to fit in. Something akin to the stepford wives. In this case, it was more the stepford Sonorians. Her sisters would probably fit into it just fine. Placing her head on her hand, she just rolled her eyes and focused on the professor who was talking about midterm. Hers had been just fine. Overly decorated as usual. Her mother tended to go overboard with such matters. She seemed to think that every inch of the house had to have either a wreath or garland or some such combined with usually a heavy scent of cranberry. It was the only part of the holiday she didn’t like for she enjoyed the dorky Christmas carolers, the Christmas Eve feast brimming with favorites, the six in the morning present openings, and even the endless societal parties. It was the only time of year she did.

So, the only real question was what to transfigure her items into. She considered making one of them into one of her presents, but thought that might make her look conceited. Besides, no one needed to know that she actually came from a well off, pureblood background. Deciding against that one, she thought about the carolers. That might work. Transforming the paper into Christmas sheet music wasn’t too hard except she wasn’t positive all the notes were right, but at least all the words were. The second item she thought about was the feast, but she couldn’t make food. That was against the rules of transfiguration. Thinking about it a bit more, she turned the can into a representation of cranberry sauce. Traditions, traditions.

Before Dani went on to the third, she was curious to see how Miss Perfect next to her was doing. Unfortunately, she caught the other girl’s eye. Drat. And if that weren’t enough, she was talking to her while spreading out her perfectly manicured hands. Mimicking the action, showing her dark nails, she said evenly, “As much fun as having lunch with a Red Cap.” And while she didn’t show it, the statement almost struck her funny, as she would probably prefer that to having lunch with some of the daughters of her mother’s friends. They were all just like this girl.

0 Dani Adair I'm sure there are better things to be done. 166 Dani Adair 0 5

Raines Bradley, Crotalus

July 05, 2010 9:13 PM

Connections, connections by Raines Bradley, Crotalus

Arriving respectably early for class and discovering that nothing respectable enough for him to interact with had arrived before he did, Raines took a seat and began going over the basic Italian exercises his mother wanted him to do by the end of the week. She seemed to have it in mind, now that a major inheritance was almost certainly well and truly out of the question for him, to see if she could get her siblings to find him an ambassadorship after he got married, and while that was an acceptable position for someone of good birth and ambition to fill, his modern languages were going to need a great deal of work for it to be plausible.

It was, he thought, a pity that he hadn't been working on modern languages for years, now. His mother had insisted that he learn enough Latin and Greek - stiff, old languages he'd disliked, and his tutors in it had disliked him almost as much because of what they called a "lack of voice" or sometimes "expression" in his very precise translations - to get by with because it was proper for a gentleman, but it seemed to him to have been a waste of time. He had no aptitude for it and remembered little, the subject was of no practical use to a person with no intentions of doing anything as pedestrian as teaching or going into medicine or spell development, and the truth was that the real reason for the lessons had been the need for him to be seen taking languages as other heirs did and it being cheaper to hire one Classics tutor instead of two or three for modern languages when he'd already picked up an acceptable, if unpolished, amount of French.

Years were gone, but since he had been working on the Italian, at odd moments, since the night before, the page was done with exactly three minutes to spare before class officially began, which gave him time to take out his wand and prepare a page to take notes on. A page which quickly proved to be completely unnecessary. Raines frowned crossly as he put it away. He didn't like wasting effort, or paper, any better than he liked to have his routines interfered with, and the review was inefficient. He'd had some difficulty with the spell when it was first introduced, but that was his problem to handle. This was coddling, and it would do them all worse in the end.

He had, in front of him, a hairbrush, a figurine of a man sitting on a sort of metal...horse...thing, and a pair of scissors. Taking out a fresh piece of parchment and giving it the proper markups, he considered the first, then began to write about what he planned to turn it into.

1. Item one, originally a hairbrush, has been Transfigured into a watch. This is because I received a new watch for Christmas. It was one of several costly presents I received from my family. I enjoyed receiving these presents very much. It is pleasant to have well-crafted and visually appealing things.

A more proper way to do it would have been to introduce the essay, then write connected paragraphs with more than the five very simple sentences he'd been taught were necessary to comprise a paragraph, but the only emotion he had toward the assignment was a mild desire to mock it a little, and the way he was doing it worked well for that purpose.

2. Item two, a figurine, has been Transfigured into a candlestick. This is because I associate my mother's candlesticks with festivities. They were given to her by my maternal grandfather, Miles Raines of the Illinois Raines', shortly before his death, and she only uses them on special occasions. I am very proud of my mother's family, which I spent much of the holiday with. I am also very fond of my home, which is where the candlesticks are.

3. Item three, a pair of scissors, has been Transfigured into a -

He paused, putting his pen down and sitting back to think. He wanted to write something about the Raines Christmas Party that emphasized his connection to them and downplayed Catherine and the other heirs as far as possible to increase Wolfe's sense of his importance and, therefore, hopefully her respect of his status, but it would have to be done carefully. As the person beside him did not look too objectional, he decided to ask for a bit of non-specific help.

"Excuse me," he said, "but would you happen to have any ideas for something festive - something you might see at a very fine party - that I might turn these things into?"

0 Raines Bradley, Crotalus Connections, connections 0 Raines Bradley, Crotalus 0 5

Neal

July 06, 2010 1:30 AM

That's a good thing to keep in mind by Neal

Neal smiled to himself as he watched Mariana go for her journal. It was only when she skipped a beat and let a nervous flash break across her features did a sudden weight drop in Neal’s stomach. Most girls wrote private things in journals. Most girls actually called journals diaries. He tensed his arm up to keep from hitting his palm to his face. How he thought asking a girl to read her diary was a good idea was beyond him, he obviously hadn’t been thinking. By the look on her face, Mariana must have realized the same thing.

It seemed like it was too late to really take back what he said, so he just kept his troublesome mouth shut and waited for her to change her mind. He was surprised when her hands moved around in her bag a bit and pulled out a different notebook than she’d had before. He stared at her curiously as she leafed through some of the pages. She stopped, finally, and seemed to invite Neal to look with the way she had her book propped open.

Careful to make his movements purposeful so she might better be aware that he was leaning over to read what she’d written, giving her a chance to pull it away, he let his eyes wonder to the first bit of writing he came across.

Neal blinked at the poem. It was pretty, but he didn’t really get it. Poems had a way of going over his head when they were… what was the word… metaphorical? Right, metaphorical. Maybe as he got older he could get what Mariana meant by snow kissing angels. Or maybe she didn’t mean anything, maybe she just wanted to write something that was nice to look at. That would make sense, too.

The second one didn’t have the same pleasant feel to it. It made his insides chill to read that. It was sad, defiantly sad. What made it sadder was that it was more literal than the first poem had been, so he started to make assumptions between the poem and what Mariana was thinking when she wrote it.

He laughed slightly when he read the stanza mentioning hangmen. It was only a small game supposed to pass the time, but maybe it was more than that. It was just a way to pass time and get to know the interesting person next to him who looked so glum and was way better at Transfiguration than he was. It was a good feeling to have to know he did something to change her poems from being heavy and down to almost light and feel-good. At least he wanted to take credit for it, for giving her something to smile about when she was back to being that shaken girl he first met.

“I liked them,” he decided, leaning back to his seat. “The last part was my favorite though. It had a good ending.”

He perked up when she mentioned stories. “Stories, like books?” Then he played around with a question before asking her, “Do you want to be a writer when you grow up?” Most famous writers he had heard of wrote when they were younger, and she seemed to like it a lot. Neal didn’t really know what he wanted to do yet, but it didn’t make him any less excited to hear about her future plans.

0 Neal That's a good thing to keep in mind 0 Neal 0 5

Tristan

July 06, 2010 9:43 PM

If you say so by Tristan

The kid didn’t seem to care much about the work either. At least Tristan didn’t think he did since he seemed really focused on stuffing his face full of cookie. “Thanks,” he said. He sighed to himself as he started to scribble down whatever came to his mind in large, thick letters so it’d look like he was a writing more than he was. It was really a good idea and should cut his time spent on the assignment in half. He looked at the Quidditch magazine he wanted to go back to for motivation to keep writing and not just give-up halfway.

“Mind if I borrow that broom?” Not really believing what he just heard Tristan looked back up at the kid distrustfully. At first he thought the kid wanted to borrow his actual broom, a Swiftstick 45, which was a top-of-the-line broom that looked like a silver trophy with how much Tristan polished and tended to it. But that was all the way in his dorm and Tristan wouldn’t let anyone borrow it anyways so why did this kid want it now?

Then he followed the kid’s finger to his model broom that he just transfigured. Now he was just really confused. “Wait, what do you need it for?” he asked, giving the kid a suspicious look. The kid probably wanted to take it and turn it in as his, the lazy jerk. And when he introduced himself Tristan was only further convinced of how ‘off’ this guy was. He talked like... well, Tristan didn’t know what he talked like. He just didn’t talk like a normal person and that was enough to have him getting more than a little weirded out.

“Tristan Volkmann,” the dark skinned pureblood said after a moment of trying to figure out the person next to him.

0 Tristan If you say so 0 Tristan 0 5

Samantha Hamilton, Aladren

July 07, 2010 5:13 AM

Recollections and Regrets by Samantha Hamilton, Aladren

Midterm had been both fun, and hard work, as Christmas holidays had always been at the Hamilton-Penn household. Samantha and her younger brother had eaten too much, gotten very ecited over their presents and seeing each other again after several months, and as a result their step-father had gotten increasingly angry at them with every drink he had, and their mom had despaired of the whole lot of them and gone to bed with a stress headache. Samantha always regretted her behavior after that, and took her temper out on her brother, which then made her feel even worse. Family was comfortable in its familiarity, but Samantha wouldn't mind a holiday when everyone just got along. Her older brother came to visit, too, and the three children (if Rob could be counted as such, having moved out already) were forced, as usual, to spend a couple of days at their father's. Well, Samantha and David's father, anyway. Rob technically had a different birth father, but he'd run off the moment his son was born, so Rob had been raised by a Hamilton like the other two. Samantha didn't mind visiting her real Dad when it was just her, because he was rich and liked to spoil her. The problem with family occasions like Christmas was that her Dad's new wife's kids were there, too, and only Liam was worth talking to - the older girls didn't take kindly to Samantha being spoilt by their New Dad, despite the very obvious fact that he'd been her Dad first 'til he'd run off with their mom. Luckily she'd been spared her step-dad's daughters because they were just as bad, but they were staying in Florida for Christmas with their New Dad. The whole thing was exhausting.

Luckily, the transfiguration assignment was quite easy. It was true that Samantha's had trouble with the spell before, but now it was later in the term she hoped she would be better at it. Plus reviewing an old spell had to be less work than learning a new one. So Samantha considered the objects on her desk - a comb, a quill and an ink well - and wondered what she could turn them into.

Her first thought was the necklace her Mom had given her. It was a thin gold chain and the pendandt was a small charm that very clearly depicted a witch flying on a broomstick with long, flowing hair. Samantha loved it, even though it was a typical Muggle stereotype and no sensible person would ride a broom with their hair let loose like that. Her Mom had always believed in some sorts of magic (a fact that she kept private from most people so they didn't think she was crazy) and she was obviously very proud of Samantha for proving her to be right. Raising her wand, Samantha pointed it at the comb, and imagined the necklace that she was currently wearing under her uniform. "Mutatio," she incanted, and the product was definitely a necklace, but the color was more yellow than gold, and the witch didn't come out at all right.

Before she could contemplate how to make it better, Samantha was distracted by her neighbor talking to her. "Would you happen to have any ideas for something festive - something you might see at a very fine party - that I might turn these things into?" the boy asked. Samantha couldn't remember his name, but she knew it was something unusual, and that he seemed a bit of a snob from the little she'd seen of him.

"A fine party?" Samantha repeated. She wasn't sure she'd ever been to one of those. She thought of her Dad's house decorated for Christmas, with glittered flowers and garlands everywhere, presents with colorful bows and fake snow sprayed onto the windows. "I don't know - maybe a fancy champagne glass or a festive garland or something?" she suggested.

0 Samantha Hamilton, Aladren Recollections and Regrets 0 Samantha Hamilton, Aladren 0 5

Mariana

July 07, 2010 9:20 AM

Of course! Too tired to think of something witty, in anycase by Mariana

She grinned. "I liked the last one too." She took her notebook, flipping through it idly, not really looking for anything specifically. She ignored the poems she wrote, instead looking for a story to show him, but there wasn't anything recently. In fact, the last thing she wrote story wise had been for their last Transfiguration assignment. Had it been so long?

She looked up at Neal when he asked, “Do you want to be a writer when you grow up?”

Mariana nodded lightly, and then said, "Most people think it's so easy to make up your own characters though, just from out of the blue. It's actually one of the hardest things to do for me. I try, sometimes, but then I think their background is foolish, or that they are too... perfect." She shrugged. "But I still try. I hope to write a novel one day." She watched Neal for a minute, then curiously asked,

"What about you?" She continued to flip through her notebook, but glanced at him occasionally and nodding to let him know she was listening. She really didn't want to show him any of her earlier works. They were depressing, more often than not, and she wanted to show him that she wasn't like that anymore. After all, it was thanks to him that she realized she didn't want to be sad and depressed anymore. She wanted to be happy, so she ignored her fear of her parents when trying new things. They couldn't get her here. No one could.

Mariana glanced at Neal again. She remembered him liking puzzles, and figuring them out, so maybe he wanted be a curse breaker or something. It involved a lot of concentration and a quick mind to do that sort of thing. If someone wasn't, well, they could get themselves killed. It was an interesting, albeit dangerous job, but she imagined he might like it, if he was into danger and excitement, anyway. There was also being a historian. That was slightly more boring, but he could figure out the puzzles of the past and set them right. She shrugged to herself. Then again, he might not want to do those things. Still, she wondered.

0 Mariana Of course! Too tired to think of something witty, in anycase 0 Mariana 0 5

Rachel

July 07, 2010 3:21 PM

Personal opinion, I suppose. by Rachel

Rachel raised an eyebrow at the other girl’s response. “And I thought I was bored,” she commented, glancing over her new acquaintance’s outfit. It could have been worse – at least this red-and-green combination wasn’t the bright shade Sam had chosen for Defense Against the Dark Arts the other day – and her coloring was such that she’d likely be easier to take for Rachel’s sister than either of Rachel’s sisters were, but she was in serious need of make-up. The eyeliner indicated that it wasn’t a parental restriction thing, so why wasn’t she wearing anything else? Only incredibly stupid people really thought that any face looked good enough on its own, and the first year was almost as far along with the assignment as Rachel was.

Maybe she’d just been lazy this morning. Before Momma married Jeremy, there had been lots of days Rachel went around all day without even putting on lip gloss. Of course, she’d also been six years old at the time and still in that almost-tomboy stage she hated to half-remember, but whatever. One of the advantages of either being openly low-class or secure in one’s status was getting to be lazy.

She resisted the urge to check her own, darker, eyeliner for smudges or fading. The size of her eyes had always bothered her, and she felt as unnatural without something to enhance them on as she did without foundation. As pleasant and beneficial to her position as it might have been for her to share a room with Veronica and perhaps a few other well-connected girls, she didn’t know what she would have done to keep them from seeing her without her face on at night and in the morning. She didn’t like it when she saw herself without her face on at night and in the morning.

“I’m Rachel,” she added. “Bauer. Arizona Bauers.” And again: the momentary certainty that she was going to be called out on the fact that there was no such pureblood family flared up before she could suppress it. When, when, when was she going to outgrow that? It was as immature as matchy-matchy cotton outfits and completely bare faces, and ten times as annoying. "Stuck for ideas on that?" She nodded to the third object, assuming inspiration was what her neighbor had been looking around for.

16 Rachel Personal opinion, I suppose. 154 Rachel 0 5

Brad

July 08, 2010 12:02 AM

You seem...<i>villainous</i> by Brad

“Wait, what do you need it for?”

“I wanna Transfigure myself another cookie!” Brad replied, smiling in anticipation. Because you messed up my first one, he was tempted to add but resisted the urge. His parents always told him to respect other people and avoid confrontations. He tried to follow those rules. There were certainly exceptions, as with Jerry the Evil Minion, but interrupting Brad’s cookie-eating didn’t make this boy a supervillain.

Kenny raised his eyebrows at Tristan when he revealed his name. “Volkmann,” he said, contemplating the very interesting last name. “Sounds like a supervillain’s name to me!” Maybe he was wrong—maybe this guy was up to no good. Names said a lot about a person; they were important to Brad. Autumn’s name was nice, and so was she. She was the type of girl who would serve as an innocent bystander in a comic book rather than play the role of a superheroine, a supervillain, or a sidekick of either. Sophia’s name was pretty, and she was a great example of a Damsel in Distress character. Volkmann seemed a bit jumpy, which was a telltale sign that someone had their nose in something they shouldn’t. Hmmm…, thought Brad, bringing a hand to his chin and stroking it.

“So, what are you writing about?” he asked curiously after a moment. The best way to learn more about a potential enemy was to interrogate him or her. Of course, one had to disguise the interrogation as a friendly conversation, or else the villain would know something was up and flee immediately. Brad’s comics had taught him well.

0 Brad You seem...<i>villainous</i> 0 Brad 0 5

Neal

July 08, 2010 1:52 AM

Yeah, it helps to be witty when you’re wide awake by Neal

Neal didn’t know much about writing, but he read enough to sort of understand what Mariana meant. It was boring to read ‘perfect’ characters and bothersome to read ones who weren’t easy to relate to. But since she wrote all the time, Neal had no doubt she’d get better. He could picture an older version of himself reading one of her books, getting exactly what her character was feeling as they were caught up in whatever plot she wrote.

He hadn’t been expecting her to turn the question on him, though he should’ve been. “I…” he thought about it, clicking his tongue and trying to brainstorm as he looked over at his two leftover objects. “My dad is an Obliviator, and I always thought that was sort of neat, but it gets old after a while. It’s just sort of boring, the same old spells all the time. Same with my mom, she’s just owns some small bookshop, that’s cool but not really exciting either.”

He thought more about it. What would he like to do? “I guess I’d want to do something where I can travel a whole lot, see neat places and discover things. Sort of like a real-life Indiana Jones.” Remembering that a pureblood probably wouldn’t know who that was, he amended: “He’s a famous fictional explorer Muggles like.”

He shrugged, losing focus on trying to figure his future out. “Well we have a lot of time, hopefully I have something before our seventh year figured out.” He said before turning his head to his next object. He figured he should at least finish transfiguring his items before he completely forgot about it, even though now he didn’t feel like it in the least.

Suddenly his eyes lit up as a thought came out of nowhere and into his mind. “I think I’m going to get a part time job,” he said slowly, “like work for my mom or something and save up money. Then, maybe in the summer or after we graduate, I wanna travel the world. That way I can see what’s out there, what I should do with myself.” He looked at Mariana grinning, really believing that it would be a good idea to go off and actually do that. “You can come with too and write all about it. That’d be a cool book idea, I think.”

0 Neal Yeah, it helps to be witty when you’re wide awake 0 Neal 0 5

Dani

July 10, 2010 12:08 AM

Maybe even popular opinion. by Dani

A hint of a smile tugged at Dani’s lips at the girl’s reaction. She had expected something along the lines of the girl being absolutely horrified at even the mention of a dark creature. Most of these girls lived in fantasy worlds where nothing bad existed. It was no wonder she was absolutely bored out of her mind whenever she had to be around them for any length of time. All they seemed to care about was who had been seen with whom and what they had been wearing. Admittedly, the latter part was rather interesting, but she couldn’t dare tell them that. If she did, they would think she wanted to dress like them, which could lead to worse matters, such as thinking she wanted to be like them. It was bad enough when her mother made her wear their style of dresses though she still managed to wear her sneakers much to her mother’s horror, but then so many things were.

She had just pulled her leg up to tie her shoe when the girl formally introduced herself causing her to arch her brow. Arizona? Shouldn’t they have met before this? She acted like a pureblood from her introduction, but was she really? Curiosity getting the better of her, she decided to put her training to good use. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Bauer. I’m Dani Adair of the Arizona Adairs. Though, I must say I’m surprised this is the first time we’re meeting. I thought mother had introduced me to everyone there was to know. Or at the very least, Mary Beth would have mentioned you. She knows everyone who’s anyone.”

This was very true. Mary Beth was the most social person that Dani had ever met in her life. She was also the perfect frenemy. She knew how to obtain someone’s deepest, darkest secrets and use it against them. The worst part was no matter how much one thought they hated her, they wanted to be liked by her too. It was one of the reasons that people found themselves telling her such things. They even told her the secrets of their friends. To say that Dani hadn’t been immune to it would have been a lie. She had been best friends with Mary Beth at one point. She had thought it would stay that way forever until she was betrayed, but even now, she still couldn’t manage to throw the girl completely out of her life. It was sad really.

Even over the holiday, she had allowed Mary Beth to choose her outfit for the New Year’s Eve at her house. The dress had been slightly too big on her, but not enough that anyone would really notice. It was similar to the outfits that she had used to wear two years ago before the Big Fight. The dress came down to her knees and was a satin black with a white ribbon belt. Paired with black heels, she had looked downright elegant. Mary Beth had even done her hair and makeup, which made her appear at least thirteen. An older boy had even talked to her. Not that she cared. Of course, that had been short-lived, as Mary Beth had decided she wanted him for herself. Jordan claimed it was just because she had to have all attention on her. Whatever the reason, it was the last she saw of him.

Glancing back to her third object briefly, Dani replied, “Yeah, I guess I am.” She hadn’t really been, but thinking on it now, she probably needed a better idea than something to remember that party by. “Do you have any brilliant ideas?” Definitely also better than saying that she had just been looking over to see what perfect little world her neighbor lived in. That might have been a bit rude even by her standards. She wasn’t Mary Beth after all and she certainly didn’t have the double-edge sword technique down and she was fairly positive that she really didn’t want to. She had already been on the receiving end of such things quite a few times.

0 Dani Maybe even popular opinion. 0 Dani 0 5

Kirstenna Melcher

July 10, 2010 8:10 PM

Examining the stolen goods :) by Kirstenna Melcher

Kirstenna didn't mind that much that they were not going to be doing something new in Transfiguation today. Nor would she mind if they were. Even the writing assignment didn't sound too terrible, as it was just talking about what her objects meant to her and how they related to midterm. Kirstenna wouldn't even have to ask Quentin for help on it.

And midterm had been pretty standard. It had been her first one, but it was not really any different than things had been the previous September when Kirstenna had left for Sonora, aside from that they were currently performing at mostly indoor venues. Nobody in the Midwest-the circus her parents were in performed primarily in Indiana, Illinois, Michigan,Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Nebraska and South Dakota-particularly wanted to be outdoors in late December and instead, they found themselves performing at a civic center in Milwaukee.

Other than that-and really, it wasn't different as they performed there every year-everything was just the same. Kirstenna had even gone on a 'field trip' to the Milwaukee Public Museum with the other circus kids as part of their homeschooling. That had been pretty neat though rather than learning something, Kirstenna merely imagined herself living in whatever setting the exhibits were about such as the rainforest or the streets of Old Milwaukee.

They'd even stayed in this neat old hotel rather than their trailer. A circus trailer was not exactly a fun place to live in the middle of the winter so they generally tended to live in hotels during the winter monthes and this hotel was one of Kirstenna's favorites even though the elevators were a bit scary. But it was a fun scary, like the first time she'd rode an elephant.

She turned her attention to the items on her desk. Last semester, Kirstenna had come to the conclusion that the items were obtained through her professor having kleptomania and she wondered what Professor Wolfe had stolen now.

It turned out that Kirstenna's objects happened to be a paper napkin, the kind anyone could get from any fast food restaurant, a cardboard box, and a huge flowered broach, the kind that really old ladies who smelled of medicated creams wore. She could turn the broach into some other kind of broach, instead of being a flower, she could make it into a clown broach. Some people were scared of clowns but Kirstenna had grown up with them and she couldn't imagine being afraid.

What else? Well, she could turn the box into an elephant Pillow Pet like she'd gotten for Christmas and was now sitting up on her bed. And the napkin...well maybe that could be a postcard. A Milwaukee Public Museum post card. The one with the T-rex eating the stegosaurus. That would specifically represent midterm, while the other items admittedly would be representing the circus, which was not just midterm, it was Kirstenna's whole life. Where she'd grown up. What was in her blood.

The Teppenpaw decided to start with the box. " Mutatio " She said, waving her wand over it. Nothing happened so she tried twice more and finally got a furry gray cardboard box with a trunk.

Kirstenna looked over at her neighbor. "So what did you get?" She asked, always eager to start a conversation and meet more people.

11 Kirstenna Melcher Examining the stolen goods :) 161 Kirstenna Melcher 0 5

Sam Bauer

July 12, 2010 2:50 PM

You could get in trouble for that. by Sam Bauer

His mother had accepted his grades from the first half of the year, but had made it clear that Sam was to try yet harder this time around. Since she'd managed to refrain from showing too many signs of guilt about why she felt he needed to exceed excellence, he didn't resent it too much. Just enough to want to do it more.

Sam wanted success for its own sake. He didn’t know what he was going to do, exactly, but whatever it was, he intended to be good at it. He just happened to intend that more for his mom’s sake than for success’s. She always insisted that she’d be happy with whatever he wanted in life so long as he wasn’t just doing that because he didn’t have the grades to do anything else, but he had never once seriously believed her. He was the reason she’d gone nowhere. How she could not want to at least get something worth being proud of out of the sacrifice was beyond his comprehension.

It was the thought of her, and her liking for the saying ‘practice makes perfect,’ that kept him from groaning at the assignment. Sam knew that it was useful and a good thing in theory, but he had never liked review. It usually, in his experience, involved trivia games with clues so transparent as to be almost insulting. Which side of the Revolution was Paul Revere on? Really? This was a little better than that, since magic took more than just knowledge to work properly, but still.

And he had always been uncomfortable during holiday sharing time. He was, by a combination of the simple accidents that the magical education system and later world sometimes produced, a shining example of a bunch of liberal sub-groups he’d just as soon not be associated with. He had no problem with the various facets of his ancestry, but he did have a problem with being put on display for the staff and other students as Cultural Awareness Kid.

He considered making up an elaborate fantasy where his parents were jewel thieves on the run and that was why he couldn’t talk in detail about anything, but dismissed it. It had come to him, by roundabout, that the school had enough Information for their Head of House and probably their Headmistress to know he and Rachel were related, and if they had managed to learn that in spite of Aunt Emily, they certainly knew his mother was only a waitress. Getting in trouble for lying would be beyond stupid. So, instead, he tested out his ability to turn a comb into a menorah and then began writing about that. Cultural Awareness Kid it was today.

His neighbor – Teppenpaw, weird name that sounded like her parents had either been terrible at spelling or trying to stealthily name their child after Kirstie Alley – seemed to have skipped the writing part altogether in favor of doing all her Transfigurations. Sam glanced up from his paper when addressed. “This was a comb,” he said, pointing at the Transfiguration. “These two – “ he redirected his hand to point at the toy teapot and ruler – “I haven’t got to yet. I’m doing my writing after I finish each one.” He looked over to her desk. “What’d you get?”

16 Sam Bauer You could get in trouble for that. 163 Sam Bauer 0 5

Rachel

July 12, 2010 2:57 PM

Regularly lying is distressingly common. by Rachel

For a moment – more like a split second – Rachel felt something like relief when she heard that the first year was from Arizona. So this was it. It was all over, and the world hadn’t ended. She wasn’t sure what would happen, but it was hardly her fault that she had introduced herself the way Momma and Jeremy had taught her to and that their brilliant plan hadn’t considered a few real pureblood families being tough enough to weather the desert.

After that split second, her heart seized so violently she thought, with accustomed melodrama, that she was actually having a heart attack and was about to die.

“I live in California,” she said, her voice sounding like it was coming out of someone else’s mouth. There was the bare hint of a waver there, but mostly the cool note of someone who’d registered the mild insult of the last comment. This story was the least likely of them all to stand up to any kind of scrutiny, but then, she thought that even Momma knew on some level that this whole scheme had been a matter of delaying the inevitable. But who was Mary Beth? The way the name was pronounced, it sounded like someone Dani Adair of the Arizona Adairs expected she should know, but it was gibberish to her. She wasn’t sure that her own name would be much more than gibberish to her right now. “Mother left Father when I was small, and married a south California Douglas. Father hasn’t – had much of a social life since then.”

It wouldn't work for ten seconds if Dani Adair wrote her relations, but it was all, technically, true. That was the good thing about it. She hadn’t been exactly small when the divorce happened, considering the clarity with which she remembered all of it, but her dad had never really gotten over it. While her mother had remarried and started a new family and life, he was still living in the house they’d all shared as a family, and if he’d been on a date in the almost five years since then, Rachel didn’t know about it. Kate thought it was romantic, and Rachel, who normally just thought it was kind of pathetic, was starting to think it was very, very convenient. Passing him off as a recluse from a small family that stayed small-time wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

No doubt about it: she was a very good liar. The only problem was that she hated it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Miss Adair,” she added. Just another person to suck up to endlessly, watch every chance she got, monitor the connections of, and try to play for the next six years, if not for the rest of her life. She didn’t think, the more she looked at it, that it was so much that Crotali and purebloods were naturally manipulative as that the foibles of their elders forced them to learn to be; Dad had always talked about right and wrong, and Rachel had already drifted far enough away from that to lie automatically and look forward to the day when she stopped feeling guilty about it. How long until she was just like her mother and stepfather, not only looking out for her own interests without a thought for anyone else, but enjoying every minute of it?

She decided, based on the other girl’s claim of a shared background, to go with the kinds of things she saw during the very few days of the holiday period she spent with her mother. “Wreaths?” she suggested. “Or Christmas trees, if your family uses those….Christmas dishes, if your mother has any.” Did real upper-class purebloods have those? She couldn’t see why they wouldn’t, since Momma had kept hers even after her second marriage, but what did she know? There were some cultural distinctions too fine for even Alma Douglas’ crash course in etiquette to cover. “My mother has an entire collection,” she added. Anything associated with her dad and his family was dangerous, but her mother was a pureblood, if only an insignificant one from a family best known for…nothing at all, really, before Jeremy.

16 Rachel Regularly lying is distressingly common. 154 Rachel 0 5

Jane Carey

July 13, 2010 5:40 PM

Getting stuck.... by Jane Carey

Jane had learned at an early age that complaining about her lessons would do her no good, but she still blinked, dismayed, once she heard the Transfiguration assignment for the day. Review she didn’t mind, it was always possible to improve even when she felt she was already her best at something, but she did not want to talk about midterm. It was unladylike to say anything if she couldn’t say something pleasant, and ‘unpleasant’ was exactly the word that she would choose to describe her time at home this year.

Of course, there were ways around that. Mother was anxious that she not use them unless she had to, but there were tricks for that kind of thing, and Jane had read about them all in the novels Father and some of her more sympathetic tutors had slipped her before she’d gotten access to the wonders of the Sonora library. She knew all about talking about the wonderful meal they’d had on Christmas Eve and not mentioning that she’d gotten scolded twice during it. It was just that she didn’t like to do it, because it felt intrinsically dishonest, even if she did suspect half the class would be using the same technique. Discontent was new to her, but if her reading was accurate, it was a constant fixture in a normal life.

Still, the assignment was very inconsiderate of Professor Wolfe. What if there was someone in the class who really didn’t have anything good to say about their holiday, and would really rather not talk about it?

She looked over the objects she’d been given. A hair clip, a small, clear container that might have held lotion at some point, and a key she supposed didn’t belong to anything anymore all sat in a row in front of her; automatically, she moved them so their tops were neatly aligned. The key in particular fascinated her, because it seemed like the kind of thing that would assume huge significance somewhere down the line in a story. She could imagine the entire plot, with the hapless student having to run from governments after her for having it in the aftermath of a Transfiguration lesson. In the end, of course, she would save the world and marry the hero and establish a new world of peace and organization.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t having as easy a time thinking of things close enough to the objects for the assignment. Jane thought she might be able to work out something without alliteration between the objects or a physical similarity now, but she was a little reluctant to try in class and look stupid if it went poorly. There was nothing wrong with messing up, exactly – she had seen other people make mistakes and not thought less of them for it – but she thought less of herself when she did.

Getting an idea for the hair clip – it did look a little like the fireplace cover, and a miniature version would most likely be more welcome by the professor than a full-sized one anyway – she picked up her wand, only to have it slip through her fingers and roll over too close to her neighbor to reach for it without asking first. “Excuse me,” she said politely. “My wand fell by you. Do you mind if I get it back?”

0 Jane Carey Getting stuck.... 160 Jane Carey 0 5

Raines

July 13, 2010 8:45 PM

I try to avoid having regrets. by Raines

To Raines' disappointment, the girl beside him did not have any ideas that had not already occurred to him. There was no intrinsic flaw to them, they were perfectly adequate ideas, but anyone could have fine glass and wreaths, and anyway, a side glance a little earlier had let him know Rachel Bauer had already gone along that first route. He was not going to be caught dead seeming to imitate her.

The girls at this school were disappointing in more ways than he could count. Almost none handled herself properly in the slightest; it was as if, the moment they were away from their mothers, all sense of decorum was left behind with adult relations and dress robes. He thanked all goodness for Miss Veronica and the example she set for her wayward peers on a regular basis.

But that was not this young lady's problem, exactly, though she had not properly introduced herself. "I had already considered those," he said carefully, "but thank you just the same, Miss." Perhaps an ice sculpture - or a glassy representation of one, which he would explain in his paragraph on it - would do; Aunt Lila took great pride in the ice statuary she commissioned every year for the Christmas party. Anyone who followed the right magazines would have heard about them, and all he would need to do was establish his connection. "I am Raines Bradley, of the Louisiana Bradleys. It's a pleasure to meet you."

0 Raines I try to avoid having regrets. 0 Raines 0 5

Kirstenna

July 17, 2010 4:54 PM

As could we all. by Kirstenna

Kirstenna grinned. She had never spoken to Sam Bauer before which meant she was glad to now. While it would have been great to work with one of her friends, she liked meeting new people and possibly making a new friend as well.

There was technically a possibility that they would not get on, but Kirstenna didn't really consider this. She knew enough about her classmates, and aside from the Quidditch Bot-she had come up with a theory during the championship game that Tristan Volkmann was not, in fact, a human being but an actual robot built to play Quidditch-most of them seemed awesome. And if Tristan seemed mean and uncaring and obsessed with Quidditch, it was because he had been programmed that way and robots were not capable of human emotion.

She looked at his items. "You got better ones than me." Kirstenna replied. "I mean, ones that probably have a more interesting backstory. I got a broach, a cardboard box-I was trying to turn that into a copy of the elephant Pillow Pet that I got for a Christmas present which is why it has an elephant head now-and a paper napkin. It seems she probably went dumpster diving for my stuff this time, aside from the broach."

Kirstenna went on. "She also could have got the napkin out of a dispenser at any fast food restaurant and the box could have held one of her own presents, I suppose." Or someone else's present, that Professor Wolfe-or the person claiming to be Professor Wolfe-had stolen. That was far more interesting.

Actually, there was some debate between Quentin and herself about this. Her cousin claimed that this woman was an actual professor because she actually taught them stuff. Kirstenna suspected that this woman wasn't really Janette Wolfe at all, so how could she be a real professor? Quentin's response was that this woman, whomever she might be, (and he did not necessarily agree that she was an imposter) she was a professor and if Janette Wolfe was stashed under the floorboards of Room 10 in a motel in Gallup, New Mexico, than the real Janette Wolfe was not a professor, she was a corpse.

It had been a nice compromise.

She spoke again. "I'm going to do my writing at the end." Kirstenna wasn't as fond of writing-which given her off the wall imagination was really sort of a shame-as she was actually doing magic and so she was putting it off. "What do you plan to change the other things to? I'm going to change the napkin into a post card from the museum I visited over break-Milwaukee Public Museum, it's awesome-and the broach into a different kind of broach.A clown one because my parents are in the circus."

Kirstenna frowned,realizing something. "Wait, turning the broach into a different kind of broach isn't much of a transfiguration. I'll turn it into a clown nose instead." She smiled, happy to come up with a solution.

11 Kirstenna As could we all. 161 Kirstenna 0 5

Samantha

July 18, 2010 1:31 PM

Me too, but unsuccessfully by Samantha

Her classmate didn't want either of her suggestions. Samantha tried not to be too affronted - she didn't think there was anything wrong with her ideas, but she supposed he might have been trying to think of something more personal. She certainly was - she had her witch necklace (which wasn't a complete disaster) but she couldn't think what the other two objects might be. Whatever the reason for his dismisal of her ideas, the boy didn't seem upset by them, because he then introduced himself. he did it in that way that samantha had come to realize was customary for the really rich, snobby-type 'purebloods', as they liked to call themselves, or people pretending to be them. She tried not to resent him for the manner of his introduction - it wasn't like either of them could help what family they were born into.

"Nice to meet you too," she replied politely - she'd been brought up always to be polite, even it had been by Muggles, and even if she was the only person in the family who seemed to have taken these lessons to heart. "I'm Samantha Hamilton." He would probably take that to mean 'Samantha Hamilton, Muggle' and he would be right. Samantha tried not to hate her heritage - she'd never had reason to before Sonora - but it was difficult to be a Muggleborn when talking to people like Raines. Samantha was at least in Aladren, so people thought she was smart. If she'd been in Pecari then she was sure nobody would ever talk to her.

"I'm having trouble thinking of ideas, too," she told Raines. "I just want these things to be really personal to me, not just general Christmas stuff that could have been made by anybody." Otherwise she'd have just done a present, star and baby Jesus figurine and be done with it.

0 Samantha Me too, but unsuccessfully 0 Samantha 0 5

Sam

July 18, 2010 10:04 PM

True. Stolen goods are best avoided altogether. by Sam

Sam blinked at Kirstenna's casual revelation of where she came from. Dean Wittier - whose only claim to wit was the flash of insight that made him stand too far off while he did it for Sam to plausibly jinx him and pin it on a late burst of offended accidental magic - had shouted across a street to ask him if he'd run away with the circus and gotten tossed out for being too freaky for them, too, but had never heard of people coming from circuses the natural way.

But then, why not? Explaining his family would sound just as weird, especially since he had a habit of comparing the faux-pureblood lifestyle espoused by some of his cousins to that of people who got way too into Star Trek, and even more especially since he tended to get distracted at that point and start talking about how he preferred Star Wars. Heck, maybe they'd bond. Weirdos unite and all that.

"That's cool," he said, just as if he hadn't been a little surprised Good ol' Crotalus genes, though he still wasn't sure where they came from considering his history. "Circus, huh? Just when I thought my mom's job couldn't get any more boring." He felt a flash of guilt just for saying that, but he knew she could have done better. She was smart, people liked her, and while she was his mom and it was not normal to say so, objectively pretty. If she just hadn't had a kid at exactly the wrong time.... "But yeah. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with these. I spent most of my midterm in the Barnes and Noble."

16 Sam True. Stolen goods are best avoided altogether. 163 Sam 0 5

Raines

July 19, 2010 9:15 PM

I like to think I have a pretty good success rate. by Raines

Hamilton? Raines’ eyebrows lifted as the name spun through his register of pureblood names and histories and came up with one that, on a technicality, no longer existed. Both sides of his family had some level of connection to the Careys, and while neither the Bradley nor Raines families were directly affiliated with the South Carolina Careys, he still knew enough about them to remember how they had come by their old enmity with the St. Martins.

By way of the Hamiltons, who would die with the old patriarch’s equally ancient wife.

Or so Raines had been led to believe, anyway, by his genealogy lessons.

“It is important to clearly establish ties to one’s family,” Raines said carefully in agreement to her statement about making the Transfigurations something personal. The idea of having something uniquely associated with himself was foreign to Raines – the individual was only a part of the whole that was a family, to that each action that honored or disgraced the individual equally honored or disgraced their family – so he assumed this meant an object of clear association with whatever sort of Hamilton she was.

And that was the question. Could his mother have missed something? He was already sure she had missed something about Rachel, so why not? She might have thought the name would be clear enough not to mention it to him, or that the descendant of a disowned, but pure, sub-branch was too insignificant to do a detailed report on. Or just plain politically undesirable to associate with, considering the power that the South Carolina Careys had; they and Virginia seemed to be the best off of the branches at present, which made annoying them a bad idea.

“Perhaps, if you told me more about yours, I might be of assistance,” he offered. He thought it was sufficiently subtle. “I know a great deal about what people associate with the different families. I might think of something an insider would miss.” It was easy to overlook all the little things that the married women did to make their homes and families stand out from the others for the society pages each season; if not for his mother teaching him such things, Raines expected he would be as bad as any other twelve-year-old for that.

0 Raines I like to think I have a pretty good success rate. 0 Raines 0 5

Dani

July 23, 2010 6:09 PM

I suppose I'm just uncommon then. by Dani

“Oh,” was Dani’s small contribution to Rachel’s revelation. Divorce was rare among purebloods. However, it seemed to becoming slightly more acceptable among the newer generations. Even so, it wasn’t something generally discussed and therefore, she left it alone for the time being. She didn’t know the girl enough to pry into such personal matters as that and she certainly wasn’t as tricky as Mary Beth to do it in a not so obvious way. Dani tended to be more direct than most, which her so-called friend considered an incredible disadvantage and a good reason to why no proper male would ever look at her. Though, if that were the case, she considered this to be a good thing and an insurance against divorce seeing as she would never be married.

Even so, her mother still ensured that her girls had etiquette lessons and all that went with it. While she might never be married, she would certainly own a perfect set of Christmas dishes just like her mother’s. “Yes, an entire set. They’re white with the outer rim trimmed in a soft red. Then, there’s an intricate gold design over the red. Very fancy. I want one too someday, but something…less traditional. More fun. Maybe snowmen.” She gave a shrug of the shoulder to end the thought. Rachel probably thought she was weird now, because she was only a first year and had given consideration to dish sets. Of course, she might also think it perfectly normal being from the same world. Not that she cared either way.

“All right. I’m going to give it a try.” Concentrating, Dani pictured her mother’s elegant Christmas china, the plate she had described in particular. Once she had a clear image in her mind, she set her sights on the art palette sitting on her desk. It looked quite worn and she briefly wondered if the professor had dabbled in painting at one time, but decided if she had, it hadn’t been very serious since it was an old, cracked plastic one with splashes of the rainbow all over it. Focusing her energy on the item, she gave the incantation only to be disappointed when it only transfigured partway.

She gave a heavy sigh. Oh, well. At least, it looked like a plate just a very colorful one. Sort of like tie-dye. “I guess it could have been worse. Maybe I’ll just make a set like this one day. My mom would just love it.” The last bit came out a bit caustically as she put her chin in her hand. In reality, her mother would probably call it some sort of radical style. She looked over to Rachel. She might as well, judging from the way she had been behaving before. “What do you think? Would you ever own a set like this?” She held it up so Rachel could get a better look the white plate splashed with bits of color.

0 Dani I suppose I'm just uncommon then. 0 Dani 0 5

Kirstenna

July 24, 2010 7:58 PM

I suppose so. by Kirstenna

"Yup," Kirstenna replied, not really bothered by Sam's surprise at this. She could see why others would think it was unusual, even though it was completely normal to her, which was probably how muggleborns saw the magical world as opposed to purebloods. Coming from the circus, however, was not usual to people coming from either the magical or muggle worlds.

Still, Kirstenna wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Prior to Sonora, she could barely fathom staying in a place more than a week. It had been a foreign concept to her. Not to mention the all the excitement,the sights and sounds and even the smells, some of which were admittedly unpleasant.

"My mother's family has been in the circus for generations. They have a trapeze act." Kirstenna went on. "My dad, however, is only a first generation performer. He's a magician and he comes from one of those old pureblood families in Iowa. His family owns their own magical school for wizards only."

That was all Kirstenna would say about them. This was the first time she'd spoken to Sam and there was no need to tell him about family issues now. It might bring him down or scare him away.

"What does your mom do?" Kirstenna asked. The Teppenpaw imagined she was an insurance salesperson or a banker or something else corporate. She couldn't imagine anything duller. Even potions was more interesting than business.

"You could turn them into something that they sell at Barnes and Noble." Kirstenna suggested. "Like a book of course, or they have games and toys." The last one she'd been in had had a selection of wind-up toys. She had gotten one that was a seal with a ball on its nose that spun around. Kirstenna would have selected the clown one, but she already had so many clown wind-up toys, and clown toys in general.

11 Kirstenna I suppose so. 161 Kirstenna 0 5

Rachel

July 25, 2010 7:13 PM

That might not always be a good thing. by Rachel

The “oh” made Rachel want to grit her teeth, but she forced herself to remember that Dani feeling shock or pity was a good thing. If she was embarrassed about having brought up a thing that many families – including Jeremy’s, actually; it was hard to say if Alma was more disturbed by him marrying a Layne, an older woman, a woman who’d been married to a quasi-half-blood, or a woman who happened to be a divorcee – saw as disgraceful, but which could not really be held against Rachel personally since she didn’t act like it had been a good thing, then she might not dig, and then everything would be all right.

Assuming, of course, that Rachel could figure out what she should do next. Should she try to make friends, or should she just be civil, as to a one-time acquaintance? Not being friendly could be seen as strange, since they were supposedly from the same state, but the best thing that could possibly happen would be for Dani to forget she’d ever heard the expression ‘Arizona Bauers.’ There were some purebloods who enjoyed just learning everything about every other family there was, and she had no way of knowing if she was dealing with one of them.

The one thing she couldn’t do was antagonize her. If letting the girl spew forth every last objectionable thought that she’d ever had in her life was what it took to keep her from being even more suspicious, then she would just have to deal with that. Much better to deal with it than to deal with the fallout if she blew her cover and her mother found out about it. Even if she wasn’t as sure as she could be without actually asking that it would involve being thrown out of the house, she did have her sisters to think about. Kate thought she would be happy if she didn’t have to maintain the illusion anymore, but Alicia would never forgive her.

“My mother’s are white and silver,” Rachel contributed. “I think the pattern’s supposed to be snowflakes, if you look closely enough.” Or maybe she’d just made that up, trying to make sense of the seemingly senseless swirls of silver when she was little. She wasn’t thinking of the nice set Alma had bought for Momma two years ago, but of the old ones, the ones that Momma said had belonged to Gramma Claire before she left Granddad and ended up in a memory wipe cult or something – no one was really clear on what had happened to Gramma Claire, and Rachel least of all because Momma said it wasn’t fit for discussion – and got out all confused and then died. How, exactly, her dishes had ended up with her daughter then was not something Rachel had ever found a good time to ask about; the only answer she had been able to come up with on her own was that her mother had stole them when she ran away from home to marry her father, just to spite her own parents, but that seemed awfully…petty.

She looked over Dani’s product. “I think I do,” she said. “But not for Christmas dishes. Momma used to serve me and my sisters on something kind of like that.” And Dad had, from Merlin alone knew where, come up with Muggle placemats that had things like maps and colors and numbers and the Presidents on them. She had no idea what use she could ever have for the information, but she thought she might know all the Muggle presidents up through the nineteenth century, and one or two beyond that. It was hard to remember exactly why, but when she was little and Dad would talk about them, Eisenhower and Teddy Roosevelt had sounded awesome.

“I’m not sure what mine will look like. I might end up with more than one, if Momma and Alma – my step-grandmother – both think they know better than me and don’t talk to each other and buy me sets. I’d have to have two or three parties just to use them all.” And, no doubt, so she wouldn’t have to use the ones with big Christmas trees on them the night her father came. Annoying him was one of Alma’s favorite things, and while he wouldn’t really care about Christmas trees on their own after so many years of living with her mother, it was knowing that Alma had picked them out specifically to annoy him that would do the trick.

16 Rachel That might not always be a good thing. 154 Rachel 0 5

Sam

July 25, 2010 7:15 PM

I feel sure of it. by Sam

Sam nodded as Kirstenna elaborated on her background, making brief mental notes. Generations, trapeze, real-magic magic act – wasn’t that illegal? – Iowa pureblood family. The last bit was the one that didn’t really fit in with the others, and he would have been mildly interested to hear how a pureblood from the Midwestern orbit, which while admittedly not as known for being stab-happy as the Northeastern and Southern ones, had come to run a magic act in a circus.

“She’s a waitress,” he said, matter-of-factly, when asked what his mom did. It was always a little embarrassing to admit to it, but since it was his fault because he existed, Sam had learned to suppress that reaction a long time ago to keep her from feeling bad. And of course no one else was ever allowed to say anything bad about his mother. He didn’t fight very well, but there was always another way to totally ruin someone’s day if he looked for it hard enough. “It’s not much, but she does get to know a lot of people that way. Pet customers have got us out of a few jams before.”

He considered the Transfiguration option he was given. “Not bad,” he said. “I never thought of that. The Muggle world’s always been…misty, I guess, to me.” It was an awkward, Lacy Johnson way of describing it, but the best he could think of. Maybe it was just knowing that there was another place, and one that his classmates couldn’t get into even if they were told it existed at that, but he had always felt as though the time he spent in the Muggle world were not quite real. It was one of the things he liked about it. “Teapot becomes Starbucks cup.” He completed the Transfiguration without apparent difficulty, though the end product was, on closer examination, still made of plastic. “Or not.”

16 Sam I feel sure of it. 163 Sam 0 5