The thing Professor Aaron McKindy missed most about his original home in upstate New York was the drizzly January days, when the weather hadn’t quite decided to snow but hadn’t quite decided to rain either. The climates of Arizona and Colorado didn’t really lend themselves to too many drizzly days, days when you could just curl up with a good book or some homework (not that he had that anymore, of course), which Aaron felt was a huge loss to the inhabitants of the state. It hadn’t taken much to Charm windows into his office and quarters that reflected the current weather in upstate New York, though, and when Aaron had woken up that morning it had been the sort of drizzly January day he loved. On the other hand, when he stepped out of his office and into the real world, he was forced to come to grips with the fact that today was, as usual, one of the ‘sunny Arizona’ variety.
Still, he had a class to teach, which was why he headed into his classroom anyway. The real bummer was that the activity he had planned for his first and second years today was definitely a rainy day sort of activity. After a few minutes of set-up in his classroom, the black-haired Italian checked his watch. He still had an hour before the kids would arrive. It might be pushing it, but--
When the first students for his Beginners class began to arrive, Aaron was deeply focused on a medium-sized window that had appeared over the bookshelves at the back of the room. No more than five minutes after the first kids had arrived, the window was portraying a steady drizzle of rain outside of it. The man smiled at his work and put his tophat made of pink bubbles back on top of his head, then strolled to the front of the classroom, stopping to chat with students on the way. His first years had come a long way and seemed to be more-or-less comfortable in class now. The second years, of course, knew that Charms had a relaxed environment. Not that Aaron made it an easy class; he just enjoyed what he did and loved to share that with his students.
Since about mid-October, the Beginner class had been learning different types of movement charms. They had worked on object moving for practical purposes (mobile levitation and the levi- group of spells) and object moving for not-so practical purposes (with Aaron’s patented ‘sugar cookie’ lesson, in which the students baked cookies and then Charmed them to do things like wink). Today, they were going to focus on making two-dimensional objects move. It was a bit of a tougher lesson and Aaron knew of a few who might have problems with it, but he hoped that it would be a fun one nevertheless.
Hands deep in the pockets of his Muggle blue-jeans, a t-shirt with a Hungarian Horntail on it—a gift from Jessie, his eighteen-year-old biological daughter who was currently studying at Colorado University Boulder Campus to become a Muggle vet despite the six years she spent at Hogwarts before dropping out—Aaron leaned against his desk and waited for the class to settle down. Once they had, he began.
“Good morning guys,” he said with a friendly smile, grey-green eyes sweeping the room. At the back, atop the bookshelves and under the new window, were stacks of Muggle magazines of every sort imaginable. Jessie had helped him gather those. Despite his time spent living as a Muggle, Aaron was still a little bit uncomfortable with many Muggle things. He could function, but anything too complicated like magazine subscriptions and he just got confused.
“Today we’re going to work on animating two-dimensional things. I know it seems like that would be easier than the three-dimensional animations you’ve been doing for the past month, but I’ve found that it’s actually a little bit more difficult. Does anyone remember how we did mobile levitation?” A few hands went up, and Aaron called on one of the students. They gave the correct answer—something about the levi- family of spells—and Aaron gave them a thumbs-up. He had a smart group of kids here. They usually caught on pretty quick.
“Right. Well today we’re going to work with another family of spells, called the lapsi family. It works the same way as the levi group except that instead of mobile levitation, it makes the thing in question move slowly in an action that would be natural to it in life. There are ways to determine what it does, but that’s more advanced so for now we’re not going to touch on it. So for example, if you took a photo of a cat,” Aaron held up a large photo of the family cat, Godric, who seemed to have taken up following Melody around as opposed to attacking the ankles of people around the house, something everyone was thankful for, “and enchant it--Lapsicattus--then it should—there we go,” the photo-Godric slowly looked at the class disdainfully and began to lick a paw.
“So that’s what we’re doing today. But to make it a bit more fun, I want you guys to make collages about yourselves. What you like, the things that make you you. There are a bunch of Muggle magazines in the back and some wizarding magazines over on that side table. The wizarding magazines don’t already have moving pictures in them,” it had been hard to hunt those down; moving pictures had been all the rage since that developing potion had been discovered in the ‘20s that made two-dimensional movement much more durable than the charms his kids were learning today, “so don’t worry about that. There’re scissors and paste on both tables and poster paper should be under each of your desks. On your collages, there should be at least five pictures that move. You’ll have two class periods to finish this so don’t worry about time today, but when you guys are done, I want to hang them up in the hallway,” Aaron smiled at the group. He was really excited for this project.
“Anyway, go ahead and get started! Just raise your hand if you need any help,” the dark-haired man said. The class began to move around, getting ready to start their collages, and he smiled. He loved his Beginner class.
|OOC| Minimum ten sentences, please! But the more you do, the more House Points your House gets. Be creative and have fun! Tag me in your subject line if your character needs Aaron.
Subthreads:
I think therefore I am by Samantha Hamilton with Marcus Williams (Pecari), Samantha
You're my teacher - you should know who I am. by James Owen with Kate Bauer, Teppenpaw, James
Someone who doesn't want to do this. by Autumn Collins, Crotalus with Sam Bauer, Crotalus
I don't know! by Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus with Sophie Jamison [Pecari]
I'm Kirstenna by Kirstenna Melcher,Teppenpaw
0Professor Aaron McKindyCharms 1&2: Who Are You?0Professor Aaron McKindy15
Samantha liked the way her charms classes had gradually built on themselves, developing each week but on the same topic. She wished some of her other classes would follow a trend like that; the Aladren thrived on routine and predictability. It was nice to have some sort of stability at school seeing as her home life was pure madness a lot of the time. Her mom and step-dad had spent practically the entire of midterm arguing, and her actual dad had only seen her and her brothers for one day of the whole holiday. Samantha was pretty much annoyed with the whole lot of them. She'd cried saying goodbye to her mom, but overall she was glad to be back at Sonora.
She liked Professor McKindy, and she especially liked his pink bubble top hat. He was wearing a dragon t-shirt today that looked like something her brother might wear, and that made Samantha smile. The second year tended to live in jeans and t-shorts herself, many of them being cast-offs from her older brother. Today was no exception, though her clothes were covered by her uniform robes. The only parts that weren't hidden away were here slip-on black shoes and her light brown hair that had been neatly tied back into a ponytail.
Samantha approved of the class today. She liekd the idea of making a collage that was all about her. Where to start, though? Sports were a must. Quidditch was only a recent development, but samantha had played soccer and baseball as long as she could remember, and she was pretty good. Magic was also a big part of samantha's life right now - she was sure one of the magazines had to have something that would show that side of her. She wasn't sure what else she would put on there, but now she had some ideas in mind, Samantha went to the Muggle magazines first. She brought back one that looked like it would have good sports pictures in, and one that was a familiar teen magazine that she could probably relate to in some way.
She sat at her desk and started flipping through the first mag until she found a picture of a baseball game, the pitcher about to make a throw. That would do for a start! Realizing that someone else at her desk had the scissors, Samantha politely said, "Could I please use those when you're finished with them?"
0Samantha HamiltonI think therefore I am159Samantha Hamilton05
You're my teacher - you should know who I am.
by James Owen
The Charms professor had purposefully enchanted his windows to make it look like it was raining. Why would anyone do that? James hated the rain with a passion. It ruined everything. The rain destroyed sandcastles, washed away street paintings, turned fields into mud, and made his hair stick to his head. It was wet, it was usually cold, and it made puddles under the door in the Owen household. At least this rain was outside, and James was safe, warm and dry in the classroom. All was as it should be. Yet he still felt discomfitted, so James took care to lay all the materials that might be necessary for the class - such as textbook, parchment, quill, ink, his wand, etc - out on the desk in front of him in perfectly straight lines. That made him feel better.
The class was about moving 2D objects. James wondered at first why anyone would want to bother, but some thoughts came to him. Explaining by pictures would be easier if they moved, and he could make up some really fun puzzles using this spell. Okay, he would enjoy this lesson, the Aladren decided. For his poster, James wanted a picture of himself in the middle. So before he looked for a magazine, he took a sheet of his own parchment and started to draw. he had blue eyes, a sort of lumpy nose, and brown hair that always seemed too long. He'd tried having it cut really short but he'd hated how it looked on him. So too-long hair it was. It covered the scar on the back of his neck, at least, which was about the only good thing about it.
James was making a decent attempt at his self portrait, even though he was no artists it at least resembled the first year, when someone very unhelpfully bumped into his desk and made him blot his ink. That was immensly frustrating. "You could try being more careful," James said, sounding rude to hide his upset.
0James OwenYou're my teacher - you should know who I am.168James Owen05
Normally, Autumn liked Charms. Professor McKindy tended to have fun lessons. For example, she had immensely enjoyed the cookie baking lesson last year. It reminded her of home, and being set so close to midterm, she hadn't even gotten homesick. Besides, Autumn had friends at Sonora and that helped immensely with homesickness.
However, it wasn't going to help her with today's lesson. As soon as Professor McKindy, normally a fun and creative professor, announced that they had to make collages about themselves, Autumn felt a bit like she was going to throw up.
She hated stuff like this. Oh sure, she was artistic and making a collage in itself was fun. However, Autumn was very shy and she always felt self-conscious. She was extremely uncomfortable letting most of her classmates-or the first years for that matter-see who she really was. What if they made fun of her?
Autumn couldn't let that happen but she didn't see how she had a choice. She couldn't just refuse to do an assignment. She'd get in trouble if she did and the Crotalus hated being in trouble. Not that it happened much. Getting in trouble meant disappointing someone and she hated doing that. Plus, it would cause a scene and she wouldn't like that either. Autumn hated being the center of attention.
The second year sighed and went to get a magazine. She felt resigned to her fate as she went and found an art magazine. A better way for Autumn to tell about herself was to do her own drawings-which was exactly why she was going to stick with cut-outs and maybe just doodle around the borders and what not. Autumn often couldn't help doodling anyway, so that was something about her.
After only a few moments of working-or rather reading the article about an exhibit in New York City-Autumn felt someone standing over her. Fortunately, she hadn't gotten very far on her project. Which was both good and bad. Good because they couldn't see her expressing who she truly was and bad because she didn't want to get in trouble.
11Autumn Collins, CrotalusSomeone who doesn't want to do this.164Autumn Collins, Crotalus05
Since returning to Sonora, Marcus began to act like a shell of himself. Quiet and withdrawn. Not the loud, fun-loving eleven year old he had always been. This school had changed him and not in a positive way. He knew that by choosing to come back here instead of staying within the Muggle world was the best option for him and his mother, but it didn’t make it any less easy to have picked. He missed his friends back home. He missed the normalcy of it all. Even the gang violence was normal to him. This place… this place couldn’t even be brought to life properly for a movie.
So, leaving the cold blizzard-like snow that often accompanied the winters of Western New York, Marcus found himself sitting in the Charms classroom. He didn’t really dislike Charms. He could understand why this class could potentially be necessary in his every day life (although he didn’t understand why some of the lessons ended up the way they did…) and the fact that the professor had a set plan that ran throughout the course of the year helped. In his muggle school, they always had schedule of what they did. A theme for the year of sorts. His charms class had that same way of things that Marcus felt some sort of normalcy to.
He sat close to the door in case he had to make a quick escape. After everything that went down last term, Marcus wasn’t taking any chances. The first sign of something bad happening, Marcus was skipping out. It was easier to get into trouble for not being there than for being in the middle of it. He had learned his lesson. The other professor had taught him that much.
Listening quietly, Marcus scowled. He had seen the portraits and things under the charms that he was teaching, he still didn’t quite understand the purpose – giving non-living things the idea of living – but whatever, he could go along with it. But why, why, do they have to make collages of themselves? Marcus hadn’t had to make one of these since he was in the third grade. And then he was going to hang them out in the hallway? Display their utter humiliation of having to have to do this project at all? He was nearly twelve. They should be building rockets in science class, taking care of mealworms to understand nature, read The Giver in English class, and building a Native American home in History. They should not have to make a collage as though they were only eight.
He walked directly over to the muggle magazines. He still didn’t know much in regards to the magical world and the rate in which the teachers were actually explaining the how and the why of things, Marcus would never know anything about the magical world. Only the spells he would need to bake cookies, turn beetles into buttons, and how to make pictures move.
Marcus grabbed a few sports magazines. These would have everything that he was connected to in the other world. He flipped through the first magazine until he found a football player in mid-catch. It wasn’t his team, but it would do. He was in the middle of carefully cutting the player out when he heard a girl speak to him. He hadn’t even been aware of sitting with someone. He blinked somewhat suspiciously at her. A random thought of evilness popped into his head of how she would take the scissors and stab them straight through his hand. He had no idea where the thought came from as he wasn’t a cynic and she certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve the thought. Marcus summed it up to the sadist he had met before Christmas. She made him think sourly of everyone now.
“Yeah sure.” Marcus replied, giving her a grin to be polite as his mom always said he should smile when meeting new people. It made him look nice. Glancing at her magazines, Marcus noted that most of them were of non-magical things. “Are you from a non-magical family too?” He asked. She was one of the few that he has met who would have been.
6Marcus Williams (Pecari)That is very Rene Descartes of you.180Marcus Williams (Pecari)05
Ryan was so glad to be back at Sonora and away from his mother and sister that he didn't even mind going to class. In fact, he liked his classes and was at least okay at most of them. If Ryan had to pick one he wasn't as good at, he would probably pick DADA, though he knew he needed to get better at it, in case his mother ever decided that simply berating him wasn't enough and she decided to toss a few hexes his way.
Charms, on the other hand, was probably the second best class for Ryan, after Transfiguation. He had successfully mastered all the spells they'd learned this year and hoped this spell would not be a problem either. Ryan never was sure he'd do well until he actually attempted a spell. He tended to lack confidence in general and generally expected to fail. He was always surprised when he was generally successful.
As soon as Professor McKindy announced the assignment, Ryan began to think...and suddenly came to a terrible realization. He didn't really know who he was. Yes, he was Ryan, but he didn't really know who that was. A collage about himself sounded incredibly difficult for him. He had no real hobbies or interests. He definitely didn't have any talents-Ryan might have been better at Transfiguration then at his other classes but it wasn't as if he got things perfectly right the first time ever-and he wasn't even sure how to describe his own personality.
Besides, from what he could tell, Ryan shouldn't want to share things about himself. Not because he was a guy and he was supposed to be all tough, but because there was nothing good about him. Why would he want to share that he was weak and pathetic and worthless like his mother said he was? Ryan couldn't let Professor McKindy-or his classmates-see that that was who he was, they would hate him and laugh at him.
The Crotalus was starting to feel kind of panicked. He knew he had to do the lesson-if Ryan failed a lesson or a class,well he didn't even want to think about what she would say to him. He gave an involuntary shudder. Worse, what if he got detention or something? His mother would kill him or at the very least, make him wish he was dead. She'd pick on him some more. Oh, Ryan knew she would no matter what but he didn't want to give her a reason for it.
Come to think of it, constantly terrified of his mom was a huge part of who Ryan was but that didn't really help him. The first year certainly couldn't do a collage about that . Everyone would know then and Professor McKindy might not appreciate it. All around him, Ryan could see people making collages about their hobbies and interests and what not. However, the Crotalus had never really cultivated any talents, his mother said it would be a waste. He wasn't worth it.
Ryan sighed to himself and stared down at his paper. He hoped to come up with an idea soon.
Merh. Sophie definitely did not have the super-fantastical, clearly excellent, amazing Christmas her father had promised her. In fact, she had barely even seen him. Her father, as always, had bitten off more than he could chew, and, as always, it took away from his home time. It would have broken his heart to have closed his late wife’s orphanage, so he had that to run it and had been for years, not to mention his law practice, and in his spare time, he indulged in the magic world.
His current case had hit the courtroom on Christmas Eve night. Sophie was startled awake at eleven at night and told she needed to get up; she would be going over to Ileum’s house. Mumbling with bitter resentment and wondering why she had to be woken at such an ungodly hour, she reluctantly pulled herself out of bed and examined her closet, still rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. Eventually, her eyes focused, and she snatched the outfit that was preset for her. After grabbing the pink blouse and skirt, paler shaded leggings and hair ribbon, and dark pink Mary Jane’s to put on the next morning, her father whisked her off to see Ileum, or, more accurately, to ditch her.
Sophie loved Ileum. He was the father she wished her biological one could be, constant enough to allow a fluctuation every once in a blue moon. Ileum was firm but kind, and the little blonde felt a bond with him stronger than nearly anyone else.
She spent the night there. On Christmas Day, Ileum woke her gently, rocking her shoulders as he lightly called her name. A smile crossed her lips as the eleven year old realized she wasn’t eleven at all. She sighed good morning and beamed brighter when Ileum wished her a happy birthday.
Midterm was over now, and Sophie had spent nearly the whole time at Ileum’s. Serapes was too busy, not able to get out of work over the break, and her father had just… been busy. Sophie sighed as she entered her Charms class, a bit depressed that she had barely seen the only parent she had left. This wasn’t a mood she liked to be in, and the Pecari tried to force herself to smile.
Normally an assignment on collages would have excited the blue-eyed girl, but she just wasn’t feeling it. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to put. After a moment of brainstorming, she did realize that she could cut out a picture from one of the wizard magazines and add a broomstick or other Quidditch-related images. After hastily grabbing scissors and a magazine, which then proceeded to do their jobs, she had another epiphany and pulled a picture out of her pocket.
The younger version of her looked so happy, surrounded by the ones she loved the most: Ileum, Serapes, and her mother; her father had been there too, but he was behind the camera. She hugged the photo tightly, unmoving from a Muggle camera.
A moment later, she turned to the person next to her, who just happened to be her buddy, Ryan. He looked positively stuck. Leaning close to look at his blank work, Sophie smiled, “You could put a nice big picture of my face on there. I do claim the title of ‘Ryan’s best friend,’ you know.” Though she may have been stretching it a little to say they were best friends, she liked Ryan a lot more than she liked most of the kids she had met so far. He was pureblood like her, but he was a nice one, also like her. Even if they were possibly not technically best friends yet, she pushed her luck happily, and maybe it would pay off. She could tell Ryan needed her for more than Potions tutoring.
12Sophie Jamison [Pecari]Maybe I know?34Sophie Jamison [Pecari]05
Whenever he walked into a room, Sam looked around it without thinking, and never did think about it if everything was the same as it had been the last time he was in that room. Three steps into the Charms room, he was startled into consciously noticing it when he caught sight of the window he was fairly sure had never been there before, and the weather he was far more sure never happened here during the daylight hours.
Rain. It probably wasn't real - he was pretty sure that the existence of a window on that wall would just not work - but it looked real, and that was good enough. Sam wasn't exactly a fan of bad weather, but the lack of it at Sonora had been getting on his nerves since he'd started thinking he saw a pattern in the weather charms at Sonora. That the pattern he saw probably only existed in his head was irrelevant; it was a spell, and unless someone was consciously fooling with it every day - which the school history said no one was - then the loop would follow patterns, even if that pattern was to simulate random chance. This wasn't chance, either, but it was something different to look at.
For a few minutes, anyway. Then it was down to work. For a moment, he wondered why anyone would bother with a spell that made images move in a realistic manner when there was already a potion for that, but then it hit him - outside applications. Great for a distraction, if it could go much larger than this and he were ever in a position where he needed someone to think something was going on that wasn't for just one second. Not that Sam intended to ever end up in a situation like that, but hey, stuff happened. His mother hadn't exactly been planning on a kid, or his uncle Jake on his wife turning out to be a gold digger, or his uncle Isaac on marrying a woman who was an even better con than he was that one time. His family had the worst luck in the world. Knowing a trick to get out of a tight spot might come in useful sometime.
Of course, that knowledge did nothing to make his immediate situation more palatable. Sam had always, even in Muggle school, had a problem with assignments that asked him to get all introspective and then put the results of his introspection on public display. He didn't like letting people get too close, or really know a lot about what he did and did not like. It was stupid, since now he had nothing that anyone could possibly find a use for, but he was naturally introspective enough to know it was because he'd had too many years of lying about who and what he was to keep Lacy Johnson and the rest of the Muggle world ignorant of things that would reduce them to running through the streets of Chicago wearing tinfoil hats and carrying machine guns if they ever found out about them. Hard to shake off almost eleven years and a summer of that.
Maybe he'd lie. Who was McKindy to contradict him about his own alleged personality? Especially since even Sam wasn't entirely sure what his actual personality was. Maybe it could be whatever he put together for McKindy's benefit while he was in this class. First, though, he had to look through some of the magazines.
Well, the fashion ones weren't about to do it. Not at all. He had no interest whatsoever in women's clothes, and if he cut anything out of the men's clothing sections, he'd look like a desperate poseur wannabe - which was probably more pathetic than being an actual desperate poseur - because his wardrobe was pretty much made up of jeans and t-shirts. Since he only had one known set of relatives and none of them had died since he'd been around, he didn't even own anything nice to wear to funerals. Not getting something had also become a bit of a superstition for him - if he ever did, then he'd meet his paternal grandma or something just in time for her to kick the bucket, and that wouldn't be cool for anyone.
The one about cars was no good, too. To use them would have been to conceal his actual thoughts on the subject - or to use what he thought was irony - but not only would Rachel kill him if she associated the thing with him, he also was not that crazy about being overly affiliated with the Muggle world. He wasn't ashamed of his origins, but nor did he wish to incur the wrath of anyone who'd been fooled by his pretty cousin's shiny veneer and was now feeling up to a bit of "Burn the Muggle-Descended-Person."
If they'd done this before midterm, he could have cut out some menorahs and angels or something and talked about his family's religious beliefs, but it was January and he didn't feel much like being the poster child for Celebrating Our Differences. And Rachel would kill him again. Girl was going to end up with some serious identity issues at the rate she was going; the only thing she'd remained consistent on in the years Sam had known her was her ability to beat him up pretty much at will.
In any case, this Celebrating Our Personalities In The Hall was presenting a serious problem for him. Anything half-true would have negative consequences if anyone bothered to look at the signature on the poster, and anything that was a lie in what he had seen so far either was so not true that even a professor teaching basically everyone in the school and therefore unlikely to know more about him than maybe what he looked like would catch it or made him look like he was the one with identity issues. This project was going to be harder than he'd thought.
He stood up to return the magazines he'd grabbed and try another batch and noticed that Autumn Collins didn't seem to have gotten very far. Weird; he had no basis for it, since she was quiet to the point of being weirdly easy to overlook, but he'd always thought of her as a natural school person. Then she noticed him noticing. "Having trouble with this, too?" he asked, trying to cover for the awkwardness of having been caught looking at someone else's Person Poster.
Attention to detail wasn't really her thing, so Kate didn't notice the addition to the room until she turned around in her desk to see if her roommates had arrived yet and noticed the weird light pattern on the desk next to hers. When she looked up and found the source, she wasn't sure if she should be slightly depressed by the gray or just plain impressed. She didn't see rain often - it was one of those things that went with living in California and Arizona - but that looked like it. Very similar to that day they'd spent at Granddad's last year, only without the miserable humidity that followed rain in most seasons of South Carolina.
Kate really could not see how anyone could ever voluntarily live in the south. Even when the weather wasn't out for blood - which, apparently, it maybe wasn't in parts of late fall and winter - the socialites always were. She had only thought she understood snotty, classist people; listening to Granddad and Momma talk local politics for half an hour had let her know she knew basically nothing about the system. What was the point of having two families fight, originally with actual violence and these days by using pretty girls as weapons, from colonial times to the present? The original dudes were, like, dead.
Or maybe they weren't. She wasn't any good at history, but from what she'd picked up from the tutor, a lot of those old east coast families had apparently been into alchemy and stuff. Maybe those crazy old people were still the same ones that had been around in the 1740s, faking their deaths every few years and then assuming their "children's" identities, using spells and potions to control their visible age....
Yeah, that was morbid, especially since they'd have to kill off the original kids. She wasn't going to think about that anymore.
The assignment for the day was a lot less disturbing; in fact, it actually sounded like fun. The issue was whether or not her spellwork was up to the challenge. Kate decided to assume that she'd get some credit just for making the collage and worry about the magic later. Most spells they learned now weren't supposed to last for very long, anyway, so if she could just get it to work for a few seconds, she'd probably make a pass on that and just get instructions to work more on it in her own time.
She was on her way to get some magazines to look through when she saw a bag just before she would have snagged her sneaker in a shoulder strap and stopped abruptly to avoid it. Unfortunately, her feet caught up with each other at just the wrong angle and she stumbled into a desk. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, the desk's occupant - James the Aladren, she thought, from her year - snapped at her.
"Wow, sorry," she said, flushing bright red. How, exactly, had her pale-skinned grandfather's genes managed to survive living in the south? It was hot. That meant lots of sun. That meant only people who didn't have pale brown hair, light eyes, and skin that looked like an English stereotype should have flourished well enough there to pass on their genes well enough for them to be strong enough to somehow override her dark-haired, dark-eyed father's two times out of three. "I was trying not to trip over this bag, and then my feet got all tangled up, and I kind of - yeah, you don't care. Do you, um, want a new piece of paper or something? My mom knows this spell to get rid of ink, but I don't, and I don't think I could do it yet without setting the fire on paper - I mean paper on fire - anyway."
Kirstenna just loved Charms, it was so much fun and Professor McKindy was so cool. The lessons were always interesting and more importantly, fun. A fun lesson was crucial to Kirstenna's enjoyment of a class. It helped her learn better too. Prior to Sonora, most of her lessons had somehow related to the circus, of course. She came from a world where people lived and breathed it. It was in her blood.
Of course, technically, so was pureblood snottiness and being no fun at all, but Kirstenna didn't feel she belonged on that side of the family at all. She didn't even know some of her extended family, like her grandpa's sisters and their families. Kirstenna wasn't even sure if she wanted to meet them as her contact with the Melchers hadn't been so good, other than Quentin of course. Quentin said he didn't see them much anyway and their children were older, like post Sonora-age.
When she heard the assignment, Kirstenna grinned. This sounded super easy and like something she could get a decent grade on. Maybe a good grade in Charms would make up for a bad one in Potions. Unlike most of their family, Kirstenna's dad didn't care about her grades too much. He only cared that she tried her best in whatever she did and wouldn't berate for a low grade or a losing Quidditch game. Sometimes, Kirstenna thought she had the best dad in the whole world.
Still, she wanted to do well what she could. Part of her needed her family's acceptance. Kirstenna wanted desperately for her grandparents to approve of her, love her the way grandparents should. Quentin said they just weren't those kind of people and that she shouldn't take it personally but Kirstenna knew that to their grandparents, there was a difference between her and her cousin. He was their heir, and she was nothing but a 'filthy half-blood circus freak'. To which she took great offense, some of those circus 'freaks' were her best friends! The Bearded Lady was like an aunt to her, much more so than Aunt Lara was.
When Professor McKindy was done talking, Kirstenna got up and walked over to the pile of magazines. Her collage was going to, naturally, be all about the circus where she'd grown up and singing, which was her favorite hobby. Maybe Kirstenna would even add something about Glee, her favorite show.
The person who'd been looking at her work turned out to be Sam Bauer, her year and housemate. He seemed pleasant enough but not someone Autumn wanted to share about herself with. It wasn't anything personal but she just didn't know the other Crotalus very well and she wasn't willing to bare her soul to just anyone.
That's why this assignment was so awful for her. Professor McKindy wasn't just making them do this to turn into him, he was going to display the collages in the Hall . That meant everyone in the whole school would learn stuff about Autumn. That opened her up to potential ridicule by everyone.
She was starting to feel a little angry at Professor McKindy. It seemed cruel to do this to the students. If people made fun of her, it would be on his head. Autumn didn't understand how he could do this to them all. Sure, some people, people like Kirstenna Melcher, would be fine. The Teppenpaw girl didn't seem to care what others thought about her at all.
But Autumn did care. She wasn't like Kirstenna, or Nina,who had that loud outgoing personality that people loved and she hated that her own shy, quiet artistic personality would be on display. Besides, what if people thought her collage was ugly or something? That was almost as bad to her as being criticized for her personality.
Maybe she'd be better off taking a failing grade. She could make it up easily, Autumn was generally good at Charms and all sorts of school stuff. She was a natural at it, just like at art. It was just this assignment the Crotalus was not personally comfortable with. Maybe she could even ask Professor McKindy for some make-up work. Autumn would be happy to animate a picture, she just didn't want everyone to see who she was.
She smiled politely at Sam. "Yeah, a little bit." Autumn was sort of glad she wasn't alone in that. Not that she wanted Sam to have to suffer too, she just was glad not to be the only one having trouble.
The boy said he would pass the scissors when he was done, which samantha had been expecting - it wasn't as if he'd need them all class. Then he said, "Are you from a non-magical family too?" Samantha followed his gaze to her Muggle magazines.
"Yes, I'm from a non-magic family," she replied, and she would admit to be a little surprised by the question. Nobody here had asked her that before. "I used to think there must have been some sort of mistake," she smiled at the memory of her first term. "I've got an older brother and a younger brother, and I don't think either of them have magic," she told the boy. Samantha supposed she couldn't be quite sure that her younger brother wasn't magic, but he hadn't shown any signs so far. Plus she had let him wave her wand a bit over summer, and nothing had happened. She was the only one with green eyes, too, but she didn't think that had anything to do with being a witch.
"I'm Samantha," she said to the other boy. She'd tried being Sam in her first year - that's what her family called her - but Sam Bauer had fought hard for the name. Samantha decided to let him keep it; after twelve years of being a tomboy maybe it was time she tried acting like a girl. She hadn't yet progressed past the name but she was getting used to the sound of it now. She'd got some make-up for Christmas from one of her step-sisters, but she hadn't tried using it yet.
"What's your name?" she asked the boy as she waited for him to be finished with the scissors. She didn't think she'd seen him around last year, which meant he was either in first year or he'd moved schools or something. or that she had been particularly unobservant last year.
The girl apologized and flushed bright red. James was torn between feeling vindicated that she at least felt embarrassed for ruining his work, and somewhat embarrassed himself that he'd been rude to her. As she continued to apologize James felt his iritation and amusement grow in equal measures. He'd never really had a strong distinction between emotions, and right now he was as likely to shout and scream at this girl as he was to laugh at her. Finally she said something about setting fire on paper, and his amusement won over. James laughed.
"It's okay," he told the girl, whose name he didn't know; James didn't pay enough attention to other people to know who they were. "Did you hurt yourself?" She didn't look hurt but if she'd tripped she might have twisted her ankle or something.
"Don't worry about my picture," James said, looking down at his ruined portrait and frowning. It hadn't been that good, anyway. he'd never been able to draw. he could get the picture right in his head but he couldn't make his hand get it right on the paper. "I'll stick a picture over the blotted part or something." The Aladren hadn't given any thought to what sort of pictures he would put on his collage. They needed to be things that he could make move to satisfy the point of the class. He hadn't got any ideas yet, mostly because he wasn't sure what his hobbies were. He liked reading, but that wouldn't make a good movement. He liked playing with his sisters - treasure hunts, making dens, racing in the garden, trying to chase gnomes or catch chickens - that sort of thing. He did not like swimming.
Ryan was sitting there miserably when he heard a voice speak to him. He looked up to see his friend Sophie and despite of the wretched situation-though compared to some of those he'd been in it wasn't quite so bad-began to smile. "I-I'm your best friend?" Ryan asked. "Really?"
Wow, he'd never had a best friend before, except maybe his cousin Arabella. Truthfully, the Crotalus hadn't had any friends before besides his cousin. Ryan had not really spent much time with other children. His sister did, at her lavish birthday parties that had all the children of prominent families in attendance, but Ryan spent those in his room. His mother and sister didn't want him there and from what he could tell, during them, they pretended Ryan didn't exist.
Actually, he thought his mother pretended that most of the time, when he was at school or his grandparents'. It was only when his father was home that Pearl O'Malley was forced to remember that she had a son and it was clear to Ryan that she didn't want this reminder.
And he was perfectly happy not to give it to her. As much as Ryan wanted her to love and accept him, until that could happen, the Crotalus wanted to stay as far away from his mother as he could because when she did remember he existed, it was incredibly unpleasant for Ryan.
"I don't have a picture of you, though." He told his best friend. " And I can't draw either. Plus, people might think its your collage." The first year boy looked back down at the blank piece of paper. "I really don't know what to say about myself. I mean, I don't really have hobbies or interests."
He didn't really know how to see himself. What if Ryan said he was one way and it was entirely wrong? People might laugh at him then. The only opinions he knew others had were in complete conflict with each other too. His mother said he was worthless and mentally deficient. Carrie said he was icky and ruined everything. On the other hand, Sophie said he was her best friend so she must have thought something good about him (or she had a really low opinion about everyone else) and Jordan thought he was cute. How on Earth was Ryan ever going going to reconcile such conflicting aspects? (Not to mention not knowing how to represent such things on the collage in the first place. Not that he wanted to look egotistical by saying himself attractive either or embarass Jordan by saying that she thought he was. She might not be his friend anymore then!)
Marcus felt what he could only describe as relief when the girl admitted to being from a non-magical family. There seemed to be very few students who were like him in this school. At least, in his experience. Of all the people he had really met and spoken too, they all came from families of magic. It made Marcus feel even more like a minority, just in a completely different way. And then you add in that girl in his Transfiguration class who called him a Mudblood – of which he had mistaken that word to be racial against the color of his skin, but discovered later that was a negative term used for people who came from non-magical family. Marcus was weary when it came to meeting others at this school.
“I’m an only child, so it was a complete surprise to get the letter. My Ma was happy though. She figured this would be better for me than back home.” Marcus shrugged. Although he lived in the inner city of Rochester, he had been part of the Urban Suburban program, which was a program the inner city provided to suburban schools that gave adolescents a chance at a better education that may not have been provided in the inner city. But, even then, for working class citizens, a better future was hard to come by. His best chance had been a football scholarship into a decent university. Here, his mother hoped that a scholarship in a sport wouldn’t be necessary and he would get into a university by magic.
“Hi, Samantha, I’m Marcus.” He sort of felt it was a bit weird to have to introduce himself to people in the midst of the year. At his muggle school, it was small enough that everyone just knew who everyone was. Of course, each class was just students of the same year and not of multiple years in one class like it was here. He wondered if all magical school handled their classes this way or if it was just Sonora that did. He couldn’t imagine how helpful it could be to have first and third years in the same class because there was already a huge gap in what they knew of magic. Oh well, he could only assume the staff here knew what they were doing.
Marcus had already cut out a few models who were wearing some of his favorite sneakers, a couple of random photos of people in hats, and a couple of football and basketball players in mid movement. He still wasn’t sure what to use for the fifth picture and would have to think about it a little while longer. While he thought about it, he figured he would have Samantha use the scissors to cut out the pictures she liked. “Here you are.” Marcus slid the scissors towards her. He was sort of amused that they still used scissors in the magical world instead of having a charm that cut things for you. Or, maybe their was a charm and it wasn’t a beginner level charm sort of thing.
“So, is it just Samantha or do you have a nickname?” Marcus asked. People asked him if they could call him Marc, but he didn’t feel like that name fit him so he had always just been Marcus. Samantha seemed like such a long name to not have any other name for use. But, to each their own if she was one of those who enjoyed her full name.
The blonde laughed a little when Ryan asked if he was really her best friend. Was it really that hard to believe? Ryan was awesome! “Well, of course!” she beamed happily. “Who else would be my best friend? There’s only one candidate! I’m yours, right?” Sophie added eagerly.
Back home, the Pecari had a fair amount of friends, but none --excluding relatives-- were that close. She had a lot of fun times with Julie, Chris, and Lola, but those were her cousins; they didn’t quite qualify. Plus, occasionally Julie and Lola got bored… and then chaos happened, usually involving some sort of hazardous activity for Chris and Sophie.
Oh, and the orphan kids were petty cool, but now her dad was thinking about bequeathing ownership over to one of the ladies who worked there most of the time. It may have been the last big piece of her mother, his wife, but it was just becoming too much for the thirty-two year old to handle.
She looked sad when he said he didn’t have a picture of her but couldn’t draw. “Plus, people might think its your collage." Frowning, she returned, “Oh, right. Yea, maybe my face isn’t the best idea, despite my face being just so gorgeous.” The arrogance, of course, was false, and she had a playful air about her.
"I really don't know what to say about myself. I mean, I don't really have hobbies or interests." Sophie found this hard to believe. “Well, you must have something you like to do, Ryan! Don’t you ever do anything for fun, ever?” The blue-eyed first year couldn’t imagine that her buddy didn’t do anything he liked.
“Wait! I’ve got an idea!” Sophie erupted. Flipping quickly through the magazine she had in front of her, cutting out letters in pairs, making sure every letter she clipped, she clipped two of. Eventually, her metaphorically smoking scizzors were sat back down, and she arranged two sets of letters to read, RYan aNd SoPhiE, beSt fRiends forEveR. “We both have a set! Let’s glue this on both of ours!” She grinned happily, so glad she had a best friend like Ryan.
Desperate times, desperate measures, you know.
by Sam
And now he was in a position where he needed to say things, but could think of very little to say. Sam was sure this was a sign of some rare magical power only bestowed upon one in every generation. He was like Buffy or something, only with special awkwardness powers instead of special magical crime fighting powers. Maybe, if he got a ridiculously powerful BFF at some point, he could get him or her to turn the rest of the second year guys into awkward failures just like him. Strength in numbers and all that.
Of course, then he’d have to deal with the ‘best friend turning to seriously dark arts when angry’ thing upon occasion, so maybe he was better off being a solitary failure. Besides, while he’d only seen that show in reruns, and was therefore sure he’d missed good bits of it, he had stopped actually liking anything other than the fight scenes very much after season two. Since this was his season two, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be very good at hand-to-hand combat even if he were taught it, he thought he might as well go ahead and pass on any correlation to Buffy.
“Sorry it’s hitting you, too,” he said. There. Nice, simple, and honest. Amazing how that could work. He should recommend it to his cousins. “My plan was just to stick something neutral up, but now I’m having to decide what that is. Want me to bring you some more magazines back when I go to get mine?” Autumn was a girl, which meant most magazines were marketed with people like her in mind. She should be able to find something to work with, and then, even if his grade didn’t turn out fantastic, he would have done his good deed for the day.
16SamDesperate times, desperate measures, you know.163Sam05
If James the Aladren The Second – as opposed to the other James the Aladren, who Kate only knew of because he was a prefect and his name had been announced just after her Sorting, making the two events very linked together in her mind – was actually mad at her, he was at least nice enough to lie about it. She could deal with that.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t get hurt very easily.” Which was good, considering the amount of damage she’d always had a way of taking pre-Jeremy. There weren’t a lot of things she hadn’t, at one point or another, fallen off of, jumped off of, run into, had hit at her during the back yard melees her family had enjoyed and which had at one point or another been variant Quodpot before Rachel got the bright idea to introduce Bludgers and take it completely off the rails, or otherwise had an encounter with. Her dad had sometimes referred to her as Piñata.
“I really am sorry about it, though,” she added, looking back down at the disrupted image of her classmate. It hadn’t been all that bad – better than she could have done, anyway. She wasn’t a very good artist. At all. “Your picture, not me tripping. I’m sorry about that, too, but not as much.” She was rambling. It had nothing to do with him, being, along with occasionally unusual word order and making words up when she couldn’t think of one that fit, more a quirk of her speech. Her family called it Katespeak, and her mom in particular had gone out of her way to make sure that Alicia had not picked it up from her as she was learning to talk. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves before. I’m Kate.” She extended her hand to shake his. “Kate Bauer.”
Ryan beamed. He couldn't believe that anyone at all would pick him as their friend, let alone their best friend. Their class wasn't huge but there were enough people that he could be ignored completely in terms of friends. Ryan truly expected that Sophie would choose one of the other girls as her best friend, that there would always be someone that was liked better than him. Ryan didn't consider himself to be that likeable and worthwhile. "Of course." Ryan replied.
He smiled a little as Sophie mentioned her face being so gorgeous. Ryan could tell she was joking around and he really didn't think of girls like that too much yet, though he definitely didn't think she was ugly. In fact, other than Jordan,who was decidedly not bad looking, he hadn't thought about the girls in his class in terms of looks at all. The only reason Jordan was an exception was because she'd said she was cute at the feast. Ryan might have been making a little much of it but he got compliments so rarely that he couldn't help clinging to it just a little.
Ryan's face reddened as Sophie seemed shocked about his lack of interests. "I like to read some and I used to like to make forts and play with blocks but now I'm considered too old for that." He replied, looking down at his desk. It was hard getting older, Ryan was expected to stop playing with the things he liked and hadn't really found anything new to be interested in. He knew-from his mom's nasty comments-that he was supposed to be interested in Quidditch but he just wasn't. Sports were apparently just not his thing.
The Crotalus watched as his best friend cut letters out of magazines, having no idea quite what she was up to. When she finished, Ryan looked at the cut out letters and grinned. He began to glue them on the paper as it was a place to start. "I don't know what else to put on here though." Ryan told Sophie honestly. He wasn't sure he wanted to put anything about books or anything like that on there. What if people considered him a nerd and made fun of him the way his mother did? Nor could he cut out pictures of blocks because he'd look like a baby. Maybe he could add a picture of a puppy, he'd always liked puppies.
James looked at the girl as she went on and on. he'd never met anyone who talked this much. His sisters talked a lot to each other, and could be giggly and annoying, but their conversation was usually two-way. This girl, wow, she just didn't stop. She wasn't even saying anything new - she was still apologising even though James had said it was okay about his picture. Repeatedly.
Finally the rambling came to a conclusion as she introduced herself as Kate Bauer. She wanted to shake his hand. james didn't like to touch other people. He looked at her hand for a couple of seconds, contemplating it. eventually he decided he could just wash his hand thoroughly after the class, which would be necessary if he touched old magazines anyway. he took her hand and shook it briefly. "I'm James Owen," he returned the introduction, discreetly wiping his hand on his robes underneath the desk.
"My picture is fine," he reiterated. "And you talk a lot." Despite the cheerful laughter of moments ago, his irritation still seemed to be bubbling just below the surface. The rain outside wasn't helping to improve his mood. "I mean, you talk more than anyone else I've ever met," he told her.
0JamesYou're a poet and you didn't know it0James05