Headmaster Brockert

March 14, 2016 6:26 AM
One of the best things about the Challenges was that Mortimer didn't have to have anything extra at the bonfire.It could just be fire and food. Between that and the fact that he'd already realized that they might have left the students too busy and tired to cause trouble, he was rather liking these Challenges. Especially since he didn't have to run any of the events.

Of course, the next time they might potentially come up was in seven years when the Midsummer event was the Concert and it would likely be difficult to have students doing both. Contrary to what he wanted people to believe, Mortimer was not completely heartless and felt that was just too much to put on the students. His cousin David had already written to him, asking him not to allow his daughter Chaslyn to take any independent studies. Mortimer didn't exactly know the reason for this, but from what he could tell-he remembered which one she was simply because she was the Crotalus prefect for her year-she often looked incredibly tired. Something that was none of his business was might be going on there.

Anyway, he supposed that they could either have each team have an act-which would be an awful lot of acts for him to have to sit through-or have the concert part not be put on by students and hire a popular band instead. He could even leave when the band started playing and not subject himself to terrible music.Some of that crap kids listened to had a way of getting stuck in one's head.

Anyway, Mortimer didn't really have to think about it for the next seven years. Tonight was the bonfire where everyone would camp out on the pitch in tents of four-magical ones of course, the kind that were bigger on the inside and considerably nicer than what he assumed Muggles had as anything magical tended to be-as they had every four years for quite some time now.

And he couldn't care less about how they sorted themselves out in the tents, so long as everyone had a place to sleep.

Now the students were here and it was time to begin. Mortimer cast a quick Sonorus charm on himself the way he did for feasts. "Hello students and welcome to the Bonfire. Before you are let go to eat and socialize, I would like to announce the winners of this year's Challenges. When your team is announced, please come up and get your award.In fifth place, we have Team Six. In fourth place is Team Twelve. Third goes to Team Three and second place is Team Five. And, our first place winner is....Team Two! Congratulations Team Two!" Once everyone but himself was offstage, he continued. "The full results are up on the bulletin board next to the buffet and your yearbooks. Enjoy yourselves." Of course, Mortimer only really cared if they enjoyed themselves in the sense that it made his life easier, he didn't actually care about their feelings or anything.

OOC-The yearbook will be up when Amelle finishes it. Please do not cause any serious incidents with the fire as the staff will be watching to prevent such things. Have fun!
Subthreads:
11 Headmaster Brockert Bonfire! 6 Headmaster Brockert 1 5


Jack Spencer

March 21, 2016 1:41 PM
This year had been entertaining, to say the least. His coursework had been more engaging and challenging this year, and he was looking forward to moving up to the Intermediate level. It was really unfortunate that students weren’t allowed to perform magic off of school grounds. He’d particularly enjoyed attempting to fool his classmates in DADA, but Jemima had caught on quicker than he’d liked. Obviously it would’ve been impossible to fool the girl herself when he didn’t know her nearly as well as her friends. The lack of Quidditch, however, had been disappointing, but the challenges had proved to be exciting in their own way. But he had to accept that his team didn’t have a chance to win the top four spots. Last he’d checked, his room-mate’s team was in the top spot and Jack didn’t think that would change drastically. He wished he’d been placed with a team leader other than his cousin, but it was over now, thank Merlin.

The bonfire itself was a bit dull, but there was loads to eat. For the past year or so Jack had been eating voraciously, attempting to fill his insatiable stomach. He was extremely thankful that his vacillating vocal chords had finally decided which tone to stick to for the most part. There were times when his voice cracked without warning, but he wasn’t afraid to speak up like before. His voice was lower than Adam’s now, but Charlotte called it soothing and smooth. At least Jack had his sister’s approval if no one else’s. He was fourteen now and about 1.69 meters tall; he’d shot up like a weed in a short amount of time this year, but Jack was hoping to be at least as tall as his brother. All of these physical changes had at first been terrifying and awful, but now he was eager to be a real wizard, not a ‘young lad’ that people underestimated or ignored. Not to mention facial hair made one look quite dashing.

The roaring bonfire was nice and all, but Jack was more interested in knowing who’d won. He knew it wasn’t going to be his team, but it would be all right if it was a friend who won instead. As the Headmaster announced the winner, Jack cheered on his room-mate. He was only a little bitter that Barnaby had won instead of him, but not enough to hold a grudge against the wizard. If there had been any hard feelings, they were soon forgotten as the Headmaster let them off to roam and sort themselves into tents. What sort of strange school was this that didn’t assign students to tents according to their gender or age?

Jack picked up a yearbook but kept his eyes on the chart, searching for his team. They hadn’t done abhorrently; eleventh place was better than fifteenth, but not by much. He’d find his room-mate later and congratulate him, and he half-hoped Barnaby was hoping to share a tent with him, being room-mates and all. Jack approached one of the bland-looking tents, expecting something much grander inside. He and the wizards in his family had gone camping once during the World Cup, and Jack still remembered the rush of it: sleeping in rooms surrounded by tarp instead of walls, cooking breakfast on their own and sharing it with other campers, cheering on the players when they finally entered the stadium and sat in their amazing seats. That was the first time Jack had watched a Quidditch match up close, at seven-years-old, and from then on he’d decided to be the best player he could possibly be.

But the memories faded back to his current situation now. A tent was a tent and he wasn’t at the World Cup, he was at school. He saw someone approaching the same tent as he was and Jack smiled at them. It would be a lovely opportunity to make new friends. “Do you mind if we share?” he asked politely.
40 Jack Spencer Thinking too much - friends? 299 Jack Spencer 0 5