Headmaster Bulla

September 06, 2007 9:35 AM
Manfred Bulla, Headmaster of Sonora Academy, remained seated until the last of the first years had been sorted. While the rest of the school had been able to wander into the Cascade Hall relatively at ease, the first years had been held back until the feast was ready to start. At this time they were presented with goblets containing a clear bubbling potion and told to drink up. As happened every year - regardless of some of the more wild stories that some of the students both past and present liked to spread - not long after taking the potion a most remarkable change took each and every student. Rather than remaining their usual colours, their hue from top to toe (including their hair, skin and, according to one curious little boy several years ago, even their nails, teeth and tongues!) altered to reflect the dominant colour of the house they were to join. A bright blue for Aladren, deep red for Crotalus, muddy brown for Pecari and sunshine yellow for Teppenpaw. The effect didn't last for too long, generally no longer than a few minutes, but it was enough that the houses were obvious and the new students could be welcomed by their new housemates. When it was clear that the colours were fading and that seating was being settled, Manfred rose from his seat in the middle of the staff table, took a moment to be certain that his appearance was still neat and orderly and cleared his throat pointedly.

"A new year is upon us," he said, once the students had quietened down. "A new year, and with it new students and new challenges await you all. To our new students, welcome. I am Headmaster Bulla. I'm sure you will enjoy your time here at Sonora Academy, and hope that you will work hard and do your new houses proud. To our returning students, this is a new year to work hard and strive to reach your potential, to make new friends and seek new goals. Indeed, after midterm I will have a very exciting announcement for you all - one which I am sure you will all be terribly curious about until then!" He smiled at the room. It was indeed a very exciting little secret that he was sitting on, but they would learn that for themselves soon enough. It would be something for them to look forward to, and hopefully would inspire them to work hard and enjoy all sorts of areas of the school life. "But that doesn't mean there aren't any announcements for now. Would Mr. Christobel Dupree of Aladren, Miss Jordanna Howard of Crotalus, Mr. Connor Pierce of Pecari and Miss Alexandria Stafford of Teppenpaw please come to the front of the room."

While they were making their way to the front Manfred moved around the staff table, pulling a small box out of his pocket and opening it when all four had gathered around.

"Congratulations," he informed them in a voice intended for them rather than the room at large. "You have all been selected to serve as Prefects for your houses. Remember this is a position of both privilege and responsibility. You will have the power to give and take points, and will be expected to assist your Head of House if a situation arises. I'm sure you will do us all proud."

He handed them each their prefect badges, bronze metal embossed with the badge of Sonora and the word 'prefect' underneath, then straightened himself back up to address the school once more.

"These four will be joining the ranks of Sonoran Prefects. I'm sure you'd all like to offer them some form of congratulations, but as the feast is about to begin I will ask that it not be in the form of mashed potatoes, or indeed any other projectile food. Without further ado," he waved his hand and the feast appeared on each and every table, enough different dishes and drinks that it was unlikely that any of the students would be able to complain about lack of variety. The Prairie Elves under the direction of Tuppy had clearly outdone themselves. "Enjoy."
Subthreads:
39 Headmaster Bulla Let the Opening Feast Begin! 2 Headmaster Bulla 1 5


Claire Villon

September 07, 2007 5:27 AM
Claire Villon walked into the hall, her back very straight, her eyes set dead ahead. She had no wish to be in this gaudy place, with waterfalls, of all things, spilling out of the walls. Que c'est gauche, she thought, lifting one delicate black eyebrow in disapproval. But of course the Americans were entirely different as a people from the French.

She would not have been here at all had not her father decided to be rid of her. Claire was evidence of her mother's indiscretion with their Muggle groundskeeper, and no more, though her father had but recently found out. That fight she still remembered. Auguste Villon, her 'father,' had used a number of extremely inventive curses on her mother.

She was lost in thought when it was her turn to be Sorted. She drank the liquid offered and was only mildly surprised to find her flesh suffused in a brilliantly blue color. What a terribly intriguing method: telling one's house by one's stomach. Maybe the liquid had simply reacted oddly with her breakfast croissant, and she was in fact meant to be in that ridiculously-named house, Teppenhaw, which she couldn't even pronounce. Well, at least Aladren had the reputation of intelligence. She was, if nothing else, intelligent.

Shrugging, Claire picked her way over to the Aladren table and sat down, gazing about watchfully. She wasn't able to see the Headmaster give his speech, as she was somewhat shorter than most of the people at the table, and their heads blocked her view. When, as she began to slice delicately into a stalk of broccoli, someone's elbow bumped into hers, she turned her intense black gaze on her interrompeur.

"Pardon me," she said quietly in her accented English, her slightly raised eyebrows giving the distinct impression that the other party was truly the one who ought to ask pardon.
0 Claire Villon The sins of the father... 0 Claire Villon 0 5

Grayson Wright

September 07, 2007 10:37 PM
For the first time in two days, Grayson Wright was entirely silent. He had been asking his cousin questions faster than she could answer them only a few minutes earlier, but there had been something wrong with his voice ever since he, like all the other first years, was held back while Anna went on to the Cascade Hall. Rough-tempered and easily irritated as she was, Anna was family. While she had been with him, he'd had someone familiar to stick to so he could forget that he was, for the first time in his life, away from home and his parents. Now that she was gone, the full impact of being at school had hit him, and he was, quite frankly, terrified.

Though he gaped along with almost everyone else, even the wonders of the Cascade Hall failed to really distract him from his bleak study. The tables, filled with faculty and older students, intimidated him a little. He couldn't see Anna anywhere in the green-clad crowd, but couldn't focus on finding her. She had said the Sorting only hurt for an hour or two, but he thought she'd been joking...it was hard to tell, sometimes, with her, especially lately. She had been in a foul, tragic mood ever since that night he heard her crying, and she hadn't exactly been thrilled with life before that.

He shook his head slightly as he took a chalice, full of a clear, bubbly potion he didn't recognize, and concentrated as much of his attention as he could on not dropping it. A thing he was sure of was that, no matter what being Sorted involved, Anna would never speak to him again if he made a fool of himself, and she'd probably beat him up, too. Gray had never tested the theory, but he strongly suspected his cousin would hit hard and that she knew just how dependent he was on his glasses.

After glancing nervously along the row of first years, Gray stared into the chalice. He knew what he had to do; the bit that might prove problematic was doing it. These scenarios, though they worked very well in stories and history, didn't appeal to him much in real life. Trying hard to steer clear of thoughts involving several hours of pain and, if none of the Houses would have him, possible death, Gray took a deep breath, held it, and drank down the potion as quickly as he could.

After several seconds of anxious anticipation went by with no trace of agony, he forced himself to open his eyes. The effect was instantaneous: he let out a small yelp of shock and was halfway through taking off his glasses for a quick cleaning before he realized that the people around him had also assumed unnatural coloration. Flabbergasted, Gray was only able to stare at his suddenly blue hands for a moment before he began putting together what it meant. The notice he and Anna had made about Quidditch had been, like a fair bit of his cousin's wardrobe, blue and black. Anna was, as she liked to tell people, an Aladren. Therefore...

"Good job, kid!" she shouted along the table as he threw himself, grinning, into a chair. Grayson waved back, too pleased with his Sorting and relieved about being Sorted to get angry with her for messing with him. Maybe he'd get mad at her later. He was still grinning against his will when a man, who was soon identified as Sonora's headmaster, stood up to give a speech. Gray didn't catch all of it - his ears were ringing oddly, as they usually did once the danger was past - but he got the point, and happily started to dig into the feast once it appeared.

This was just like a story, he thought. Get rid of all the sturdy tables, and this could be one of the rooms the rich purebloods in the East held parties in. Though a pureblood himself, Gray had only read about and sometimes heard from Anna about such gatherings; the Wrights weren't the people to go to parties. He thought he liked this better than the idea he had of parties; there weren't as many weird rules, and he didn't have to worry about using the wrong fork and causing a scandal. He had just started to compose a letter to his mother in his head to tell her all about it when he accidentally knocked into a girl's elbow.

His borderline-ecstatic balloon got a puncture. Of course he'd demonstrate his talent for finding something to bump into no matter what he was doing at a feast with an utter stranger who immediately struck him as someone from a bit higher up the socioeconomic ladder than himself. How very wonderful. "S-Sorry," he said quickly, noticing that he'd begun to stutter again and becoming more adgitated by the discovery. "Accident." At least he hadn't spilled a drink on anyone. That had happened at home on several occasions he didn't like to think about.

Figuring he might as well get used to talking to strangers now, since he was going to be doing a lot of it for a long while, he focused on getting the words out at a reasonable pace and with the correct number of syllables. "I'm Gray," he said, trying to ignore her eyes. They were close to the same color as his, but that was where the resemblance came to an end. They did remind him a bit of Anna's, though, if she was in an off mood. "Grayson Wright, actually, but Mom and Aunt Annie are the only ones who call me that." He was not to babble. Babbling was bad, nearly as bad as mumbling or stuttering. "Er - what's your name?"
16 Grayson Wright ...shouldn't affect the son? 113 Grayson Wright 0 5


Claire Villon

September 08, 2007 4:16 AM
"Hello, Gray," Claire said carefully, eyeing the uncomfortable-looking boy sitting next to her. She ran a negligent hand over her ponytailed black hair, instinctively checking the suitability of her appearance before introducing herself, trying to minimize her distinctive French accent. Unfortunately, she had only ever spoken English with her older brother, who had a similar accent. "I am Claire Villon." It was strange to realize that here in the States, people would not automatically recognize her last name.

She held out one small hand politely and nodded to the boy. Politeness had been ground into her from a young age, and such behavior was second nature. This did not seem to be the case for the boy sitting next to her, but one never knew; he could well be from an influential American family. Not that she would care about it, but her mother would be anxious to have her make connections of importance.

"May I ask," she said, forcing herself to speak to him now that they had introduced themselves, though she really wanted to be alone, and was embarrassed at using English, in which she was less eloquent than French, "where you are from? And what you enjoy studying? Or other activities which interest you?" These were safe phrases; she knew they were correct. In any case, she was far better at understanding English than speaking it.
0 Claire Villon Not according to the Bible, sadly. 0 Claire Villon 0 5

Grayson Wright

September 08, 2007 9:14 PM
Now that it was evident the other first year - Claire - had no immediate plans to bite his head off, Gray found that he could pay attention to things like her accent. Between that and her surname, it seemed like it would be a good guess to guess that she was foreign. If she was, he would have to be careful what he said and how, because, as he'd learned from his grandmother, non-Americans had trouble working out what he was trying to say when he really got going. Actually, if it came to that, even other Americans had trouble with that from time to time.

"Hello, Claire," he said, following her lead. Gifted though he was at talking the ears off family members, he had never really had an opportunity to develop outside social skills; his mother had never let him mingle with unrelated children during the formative years, and all of his cousins were too far away to see often, leaving him to a house of adults who let him get on with amusing himself. He was unfamiliar with the accepted practices of his peer group, a lack he had not noticed or cared about until now. He shook her hand, hoping he wasn't supposed to kiss it instead.

She was certainly the most polite person he'd ever met. He'd never had anyone ask if they could ask him what they wanted to know before in his life; at home, everyone phrased things as an order, and Annie was the only person who didn't consider "none of your business" an acceptable answer. His aunt, a former Crotalus, liked to pretend she was a lady, which, now that he thought about it, probably had something to do with why she and his cousin got along so poorly. Anna knew real ladies, or had before she moved in with them.

"I'm from California," he said. "North California - we're sort of out of the way. Er - I like History of Magic, but they don't offer that here...Transfiguration looks really interesting, but my cousin says it's really hard. She's a fifth year now." He nodded in her direction. "Anne. She's the captain of our House Quidditch team." Though Gray had never been interested in sports himself, he still said it with a measure of borrowed pride. "Er - I like stories. I write some, but they're not much good...reading's better. What about you?"
16 Grayson Wright That's true. 113 Grayson Wright 0 5


Claire Villon

September 09, 2007 2:29 PM
"Ah, Californie." Claire nodded at Gray. He seemed to stutter a lot, but was a relatively pleasant sort of person, as far as she could tell. "I am from Avignon, France," she added. Not that he would probably know where that was. "Transfiguration is an intriguing subject. My brother is an animagus, you know," she added somewhat proudly. She did not add that he was currently exiled from France for brutally hexing a Muggle. The family skeletons could stay firmly in the closet, as far as she was concerned; this place might as well mark her fresh start, away from the rumors surrounding her family amongst the French purebloods.

"Mais... my own favorite is Charms," Claire said thoughtfully, serving herself a helping of potatoes and cutting into one. "Very interesting and more... versatile, is perhaps the word... than Transfiguration. In my opinion, au moins." She blushed. "I apologize, I forget the English for it. In any case--" She rushed on, popping a bite of potato in her mouth to over her embarrassment. "I like to read also. I do not write--though one of my ancestors was a famous poet. I do like to make up spells!"

Claire ended on rather a brighter note than her usually impeccable, monotone manners allowed. Spell creation (at which she was, of course, a complete novice) was one of her favorite activities. To date, she had thought up a new variation on the bread-buttering Charm and the candle-lighting Charm, but she had big plans for the future, once she learned more magic.
0 Claire Villon Most of what I say is true. 0 Claire Villon 0 5

Grayson Wright

September 10, 2007 10:32 PM
France. He'd been right, then - Claire was European-born. He couldn't figure out exactly where in France she'd said she was from, as French words tended not to be pronounced exactly the way they were spelled, but he was sure he had heard her say 'France'. They had some interesting history in France, though he hadn't read much of it. Grayson made himself a mental note to do that sometime before the year ended. If his cousin's stories about Sonora's library had even a loose basis in truth, it ought to be big enough to have something on the topic in it.

He listened as she went on about her brother the Animagus, her fondness for Charms, poetically-inclined ancestor, and penchant for making up spells. His eyes widened behind his glasses at the last one. "Cool," he said without thinking, then realized it was probably an idiomatic expression. His grandmother got confused by slang sometimes. "It's really, really interesting," he corrected himself. "The only magic I've ever done was accidental."

The food here really was excellent - though not, he thought loyally, as good as his grandmother's. He wasn't too worked up about his mother's honor, because even she admitted that the only thing she was worse at than cooking was spells - a cynical joke his father and aunts didn't approve of at all. The flavors weren't quite what he was used to, and he could see more than one totally unfamiliar article of food on the table, but he could definitely get used to this. Would they put as much effort in when it wasn't a special occasion? He paused to swallow some of his own potatoes, then turned his attention back to the conversation.

"Charms is really useful," he said. "Mom's always wishing that she - " drat, he didn't want to admit his mother was what she was now - "was better at them. Our book makes it sound like it shouldn't be too hard, but I think that the textbook people might write them that way on purpose." He wasn't sure if he could see the point or not, since there would probably be one person it made feel stupid for each one it helped, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe when he was older, he could write textbooks... or he could not. It sounded dull. "That's cool about your brother, too. What's the poet's name? I might've heard of him." He didn't think it was too likely, but Gray thought it sounded like the correct thing to ask.
16 Grayson Wright That's good to know. 113 Grayson Wright 0 5


Claire Villon

September 13, 2007 3:45 PM
"Ah, well..." Claire blushed. "I admit I do not know very much Charms, but my family has a large library, and my brother has helped me also. His name is Francois Villon--after the poet of the Renaissance, very long ago. He was the beginning of our bloodline. You probablement do not know; he wrote for example 'Regrets,' and the 'Ballad of the Hanged'--he was a criminal, and so, Villon..." She trailed off. "It is in English, 'villain.'" She blushed again, though there was no way Gray would make the jump to assuming that her brother was also a criminal, though he was. However, that part of his life was in the past; he was currently an upperclassman at Sapienti University, still exiled from France.

"And your family?" she added, changing the subject and turning to Gray with her chin propped thoughtfully up on one hand. Claire had finished eating for the moment, and wanted to wait for dessert in any case.
0 Claire Villon I did say 'usually.' 0 Claire Villon 0 5