The definition of insanity on Library

Arnold and Arthur Carey

June 27, 2013 12:25 AM

The definition of insanity by Arnold and Arthur Carey

“I want to quit my life,” Arnold muttered, running his hands over his face as he looked up from the crumpled-up papers spread on the table in front of him.

Arthur, sitting several feet to his left and surrounded by far more open books and papers, barely glanced up from rereading his Transfiguration essay as he held his hand out in Arnold’s direction. “Give it to me,” he said. “I’ll do it for you when I finish this.”

Arnold shook his head. “It’s my job,” he said. “I’m the captain, right?”

The papers, unusually for a Saturday, were not his attempts at class notes and recently-found assignment sheets. Instead, they were his attempts at notes about the Quidditch candidates and scrapped lists organizing them into teams. He had already written out the way he would do it if it were just up to him, then a way he would do it if it were up to him but with the caveat that Jay and Anthony couldn’t join him and Arthur on the first string because it would be improper for him to blatantly favor his own family that way, but had rejected those first because Arthur had talked so much before tryouts about Politics that he couldn’t help thinking that, in spite of the captain supposedly not really having to explain his decisions all the time, whatever he did was going to come back to haunt him.

He scowled at the names not there as much as the ones there. If Preston and Russell had signed up, he would have been basically all right, but now he had to make actual decisions and offend people and stuff. He didn’t like it. He wasn’t a politician, he was just a Quidditch player. Why did things have to be so complicated?

His twin exhaled, a sound just short of a sigh, and then put his books down. “It is not precisely the situation I had hoped for,” he admitted. “There are a lot of factors to consider….”

Arnold hit the table, then winced when Arthur gave him a subtly admonishing look. He had momentarily, to his amazement, forgotten they were in the library. “Why does the game have to come into it, though?” he still asked angrily, just making it an angry whisper instead of an angry question at normal or louder volume. “It’s stupid, it’s all stupid. Ob-viously playing Quidditch doesn’t make women – you know – do stuff, Mother played Quidditch for Merlin’s sake, and it’s not like – I don’t even know what the other way around would be – “

“Nor I,” Arthur said with a tiny frown. “Hm. Interesting question. Well, what’s sensible isn’t always practical, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad position for you to take, as long as you don’t officially endorse any group.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are not enough spots in this game,” he muttered. “If I quit, perhaps….?”

“No,” Arnold snapped, refusing to let Arthur go any further with that idea. He was going to be without his brother soon enough – he was going away for at least a year after Arnold’s wedding, whenever that was – and would not be separated from him any more while they were still here than he could help. Besides, Arthur was a good Quidditch player, they would not be better off without him.

“We need Katrina to appeal to the Muggleborns, Miss Wolseithcrafte for her allegiance, Thaddeus for his family’s and to show that you’re loyal to those who are loyal to you, that applies to Katrina as well, Miss Thornton offers a chance for throwing off her sister’s game if we play Pecari….But, of course, we might not play Pecari at all….”

“And Amira might be objective,” Arnold added. “And Andri’s been a reserve before, doesn’t she deserve it?”

“Certainly,” Arthur replied easily. “But we were not discussing morality, my brother. We were discussing politics, and a reserve might not get as much attention as some of the others.”

“I don’t give a damn about politics, I just want to win,” Arnold grumbled.

“I could play Beater. Make the girls Chasers, Thaddeus the Keeper, Mr. D’Alessandro the other Beater….”

“Yeah, and when we have another George III incident because someone hit me with a Bludger? That’s going to be great for morale and the family reputation,” Arnold pointed out. This was a discussion they had had before. Arthur got a little too into the game when the opposition failed to simply roll over and let him win, and adding a bat to that was not good. Mother would never let him hear the end of it.

“Then Thaddeus and Mr. D’Alessandro are Beaters, Miss Thornton is Keeper, and Miss Wolseithcrafte joins me and Katrina as a Chaser.”

“And Thad can’t hit his cousins if we do play Pecari,” Arnold objected, sourly this time, both because he remembered the last Pecari game and because he was getting more frustrated by the word at this point. The conversation they had pretty much had word for word before now was not offering up new solutions with repetition.

Arthur was apparently irritated as well, because he snapped, “Well, I’ll have Malcolm poison their orange juice on game day, how's that?” Then, half in a mutter, no longer joking, “He’s the most appallingly mercenary twelve year old I’ve ever met and a Pecari to boot, he probably could actually be persuaded to do something for a shined knut….”

“Arthur!” Arnold objected. “We are not going to stoop to sabotaging other people’s teams!”

His brother looked at him blankly. “Why not?” he asked. “I understand poisoning would be a bit extreme in reality, but sports espionage has a long and surprisingly well-documented history….”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Arnold warned him. “That way, I can deny all knowledge of whatever you’re thinking about when you get surprisingly well-documented.” He rubbed his temples. “I want to quit my life.”

0 Arnold and Arthur Carey The definition of insanity 181 Arnold and Arthur Carey 1 5

Josephine Owen

July 12, 2013 6:25 AM

Surname Carey? by Josephine Owen

Considering she had always been one of the top of the class is just about every subject up until her advanced classes, Josephine had never had cause to spend much time in the library. If you';re already the best, why try harder? Yet as the subjects had increased in difficulty, and with the fast-approaching RATS examinations, the Pecari had inevitably resorted to finding extra time for study in her relatively-full schedule. Hence, she was in the library, looking for books on side effects of frequent-use potions. It was the same old library, minus the librarian's cat, as they didn't have one of those at the moment, but with the musty books, and whispered conversations.

One conversation relatively near her, however, seemed, to Josephine's ears, to be gradually increasing in volume. She looked over her shoulder, her long, chestnut plait swaying as she moved, to see Arnold and Arthur discussing something or other. The twins amused her; while she was at school she didn't spend much time with her siblings. She and jade were in the same House, and attended baking club together, but that was about where their interactions stopped. The Careys were seen together often, and Josephine couldn't understand it. Maybe being twins was different to just being brothers.

Josephine was carrying a couple of tedious-looking volumes past the Aladren-occupied table, when she over-heard a section of their conversation, "Well, I’ll have Malcolm poison their orange juice on game day, how's that?". Listening intently to the rest of their utterances, Josephine shifted her books to rest in the crook of her right arm, and she walked silently up behind Arnold and Arthur, as the latter seemed to be considering disabling the opposition.

"I always had you pegged as an evil genius," Josephine said in good humour, placing her books down heavily on the table next to Arthur, hoping to startle him a little. She smiled as she settled into the seat, adding, "I would have the greatest sympathy if you wanted to poison my sister, but please don't do any permanent damage, as I'd be the one looking after her."

0 Josephine Owen Surname Carey? 196 Josephine Owen 0 5

Arthur and Arnold

July 15, 2013 12:09 AM

Oh, we'd never presume to claim a monopoly by Arthur and Arnold

”I always had you pegged as an evil genius,” a voice said, and Arthur dropped the quill he had been twirling between his fingers as he tried to think of ways to persuade Henry to gather intelligence on the Crotalus team, then to pass on the relevant knowledge without compromising Arnold’s plausible deniability; it was, he agreed, best, as his brother had pointed out, that Arnold not know about that kind of thing.

Such thoughts vanished as he viewed a member of one of the Houses he hoped to cheerfully undermine put down her books and sat beside him. “I'll try to restrain myself," he assured her. He decided not to mention that Arnold would never forgive him if he even contemplated not letting him beat Jade fair and square, thinking that would make his brother look a bit pathetic, which was something he tried to avoid allowing.

“Please don’t encourage his delusions,” Arnold groaned, stuffing his – Arthur supposed he could be very charitable and call those notes – back into the covers of his Potions and Transfiguration books. Ones Arnold had taken for the classes in question stuck out from between pages, but Arthur mostly used those to determine the extent to which he needed to reteach the material. The ones they studied from were Arthur’s, since Arnold rarely took down more than the high points of any lesson. “How are you, Josephine?” he asked, finishing his task, in a more normal voice.

“I’d ask how Potions is going,” Arthur added, noting the books she had with her, “but he’s forbidden me from mentioning the subject when we’re not actually completing assignments for it.”

Arthur had been surprised Arnold had kept Potions, but then, the surprise he felt over any given individual subject had been a pale second to his surprise at Arnold keeping all their subjects, which he thought had to be something psychological and not reasonable at all. Arnold was not, after all, academically inclined by nature, and this year, Quidditch was back. Arnold studied because he had to, because that was what was necessary to please their parents and, more importantly, the older members of the family, but he played the game because he didn't seem to know how not to, at least not anymore. It was who he thought he was.

Sometimes, Arthur was almost jealous of the game. He worried at others. There wasn't much he could do with any of that but experience it, though, so that was what he did.

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