Professor Olivers

August 25, 2014 12:46 AM
A new school year meant new faces, new names to memorize, and, as per usual at Sonora, a new professor to welcome into their midst. It kept things interesting. The summer had been well-spent in Chicago with her nephews, niece, and their children. She and her brother were getting old, but neither of them let age stop them from doing what they wanted. Florence had been given an opportunity to act in a friend's play and she had made her relationship with Nicholas official. She never could have imagined having a boyfriend at fifty-one, not to mention a romance with anyone after her husband’s death, but she had come to realize that the death of a loved one did not mean life stopped indefinitely. No, life went on and Florence was obliged to continue with it. And since she had made the decision to move on, to become a professor and to once again pursue theatre, her life had become substantially happier.

Several weeks had passed since the beginning of the term and Florence had fallen into a comfortable schedule. She and Nick kept up a regular correspondence, and a letter from him had arrived just that morning; it was unthinkable to leave the letter unopened on her desk while she taught her classes. She had read it over twice before her first class. Florence didn’t want Nick to distract her from her work, but during the passing periods she imagined what she would write back to him. Something romantic? Simple? Funny? Dramatic? These were the thoughts that mulled around in her mind as the intermediate class began trickling in.

It was three minutes over, and while Florence was normally a very punctual woman, she was feeling merciful. She let two more minutes past, but at the five shut the door. Five minutes extra was more than enough for those who dared to come late to her class knowing the consequences—that is, detention. Today her ensemble consisted of comfortable forest green robes and a feathered cap on top of her short dark hair to match. It was conservative for her, but she tended to dress a little more conservatively these days. Maybe it had to do with her age.

“Good morning, class,” she said, the words rolling out of her mouth like silk. “I’m sure you’re wondering what those things are.” As a half-blood, Florence had come into contact with tools and contraptions from both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Half of the room looked like a batting cage would. There were three different stations with machines that spit out three different types of balls at chest level. It would be a fun lesson so long as no one got hurt.

“Yesterday we learned a spell that slowed down or stopped the movement of an object. Today we will put that knowledge to the test. You all will be using that spell to slow down or stop the movement of the balls that are thrown at you.” During the last class she had given a lecture on Aresto Momentum, the spell that slowed or stopped the movement of an object. Today they would be using that spell to defend themselves. The balls wouldn’t be coming too hard at them. At the worst, the softball might leave a bruise if the fifth-years weren’t fast enough, but Florence was confident in their abilities; they should be, after all, competent and comfortable enough with their wand and spellwork as the oldest group of the class.

Florence gestured to the netted side of the room. “There are three separate stations. Third years, please step in front of the net with the larger machine. Fourth years, in front of this netted area, and fifth years, please stand in front of this one. In a straight line, please.” Once everyone had lined themselves up behind their respective stations, Florence walked over to stand next to the line of fifth-years. “One by one, please take your turn in the cage. Once you are inside, a ball will be shot at you. A beach ball will be thrown at the third-years, a Quaffle for the fourth-years, and a softball for the fifth-years. Your job is to use the spell to slow down or stop the movement of the ball. I will demonstrate.” Florence stepped into the fifth-years’ cage and faced the machine; it sat about one hundred feet away. She had to wait three seconds before a ball spit out at her. “Aresto Momentum!” The force of the spell caused the ball to stop in midair and drop to the ground; Florence’s reflexes weren’t as quick as they once had been, but the softball still had only made it halfway.

She picked up the softball and tossed it into the basket on top of the machine. “When you finish with the ball, put it into the basket that sits on top of the machine. It automatically takes the balls from there.” Florence stepped out of the cage. Her practical lessons were always pushing on the extreme to test her students: she had once made the advanced class walk through fire for the Flame-Freezing Charm. A machine spitting balls at the students was really only indicative of Florence’s way of teaching. It was a side that showed only in her intermediate and advanced classes. “If you feel confident to take on a smaller ball, move to the next line. Please don’t overestimate your ability. I’d hate for anyone to get hurt.” With that, Florence clapped her hands. “The first person, please step into the cage and begin.” She would keep an eye on them, correcting their form or encouraging them.

OOC: As per usual, 200 words minimum. Creative, realistic posts are worth more points. No one should break a bone if a Quaffle or softball hits them as the balls are not going that fast to begin with, but bruises are okay if they miss. If Florence is needed, tag Professor Olivers in the tagline. Remember to please include your house with your name!
Subthreads:
0 Professor Olivers Let's Slow Things Down [III, IV, V years] 0 Professor Olivers 1 5

Julian Umland, Teppenpaw

August 26, 2014 1:05 PM
As Charms class began, Julian was not sure whether she should add ‘mind reading’ to a list she had never bothered to make of Stuff Professor Olivers Couldn’t Do or if she should track her brother down after class and smack him upside the head for not keeping his habit of finding entertainment in being overly literal to himself. The conflict arose because she was not, as Professor Olivers said she was sure they were, wondering what the things taking up half the classroom were – baseball was not a major sport in Calgary, they hadn’t had a professional team in years, but she’d had enough exposure to it growing up there to get the basic idea. Instead, she was wondering why they were there, even though she thought, remembering the spell they had learned last class, she had a pretty good idea. She wanted said idea to be wrong, because she hadn’t practiced the night before.

She’d meant to. Sort of. Maybe. It just…hadn’t happened. She had gotten busy with her increasing number of official duties, which had somehow derailed into John daring her to read aloud, in the library, parts of the Canterbury Tales that Mom had most definitely not assigned either of them this year, that had taken a while, and then she had done some reading for another class, and then…well, she wasn’t exactly sure where the time had gone, just that it had, and she hadn’t gotten around to practicing that charm, even though her performance in class had been hit or miss.

Now, it looked like her failure at one of the central parts of being a Good Student might shortly make that phrase far more suited to the situation than might be good for her. A cream could take away a bruise in a moment, but that didn’t make getting one any more pleasant.

Professor Olivers confirmed the nature of the exercise, and Julian wondered if she could possibly get out of it by playing Good Prefect: hanging around the third years, helping out, and hoping no one noticed she had failed to confront flying softballs. She suspected the answer was ‘no.’ Professor Olivers was probably a little too on the ball – goodness, was every common expression in the world going to trip her up today? – to let her get away with that. She was just going to have to hope for the best, look on the bright side (she would have been even more likely to end up briefly missing a tooth if they’d done this with bats; there was a reason she had always thrown the ball at her brothers and not the other way ‘round at home) and chalk the actual results up to a learning experience – or something like that. She already knew she was supposed to do her homework properly, after all, so maybe it would be more like…negative reinforcement? She thought that was the right word.

“This is not going to be fun,” she remarked to another student. Complaining was, she knew, a pointless thing to do, but sometimes it sure could make one feel better.
16 Julian Umland, Teppenpaw That sounds like a great idea. 254 Julian Umland, Teppenpaw 0 5

Charlie B-F-R

August 28, 2014 8:49 AM
The first thing that Charlie noticed when he walked into the Charms classroom was that Professor Olivers was wearing a very dashing hat. He admired the woman's bold use of head-gear. Not enough people these days wore hats, much less indoors and with no discernible reason, such as a wedding. He wondered whether this would mean Professor Olivers would approve of his own hat making an appearance... Such things trod the fine line between accessorising and breaking with the dress code, but Charlie was one for pushing boundaries, at least when it came to sartorial matters. He thought he had so far shown the utmost restraint when it came to the lumpy, shapeless and frequently not of this season's palette school robes. If it was up to him they would have been charmed magenta, had some fringing added and, above all, been taken to the tailor! He had made minor adjustments every year. This time, it was in the form of rolling his sleeves up to reveal a set of kitschy plastic bangles up one arm, and substituted the usual belt for something of his own design which had a little more bling. Perhaps his current hat wouldn't really go with this look but maybe if he got a new one... The hat changed fairly regularly but he always made sure to have at least one, and it was always adorned by the fabulous augurey feather he'd acquired in Care of Magical Creatures. He was contemplating what type of feather Professor Olivers had used in her hat, and how he would classify the hat type overall, when she began class, telling him he must have been wondering what those things were.

He blinked in surprise. Whilst Professor Olivers was usually fairly fabulous it was unusual of her to give them a run down of what she was wearing, much less to mind read his specific questions about it. It quickly became apparent though that she was referring to the equipment with which she had filled the Charms room. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed it. It had registered on his peripheral vision as he entered – it was impossible for it not to. However, until that point, he simply hadn't cared. On his list of things to be curious about, big nets definitely ranked below millinery matters.

From the very positive hat-based start, the lesson rapidly went downhill. It wasn't that Charlie hadn't got the spell yesterday. He'd been pretty good at it, in fact. But that didn't really mean he was keen to have that tested with balls flying at his face. In fact, he thought, having mastered it pretty well the previous class really meant he was done with it, and quite ready to move onto the next thing. Preferably something in an embroidering charm, or trimming spell.

As slowly as was possibly without demonstrating perceivable cowardice, he made his way up to the line. He knew of various Muggle sports, and had been actively excluded from them by other children at elementary school. He thought he'd even heard of soft ball but beyond the fact that there were balls which were presumably soft he didn't think he could say much about it. He flinched as the ball flew out at Professor Olivers, watching as she froze it neatly. It looked like it had been going rather fast and like the name was not particularly accurate.

“I know,” he hissed under his breath when Julian, who also seemed to favour the end of the line, complained about the class. “Why do people think sport is fun? It isn't. And those soft balls look pretty hard and vicious to me.”
13 Charlie B-F-R My plastic surgeon doesn't want me doing any activity.... 252 Charlie B-F-R 0 5

Julian Umland

August 28, 2014 2:09 PM
“They’re not soft at all,” confirmed Julian when Charlie observed that softballs didn’t look very soft. “Trust me. My mom made that mistake once – “ sport was really not Alison Umland’s thing, either; she could hold her own in a very casual game of tennis, but all she’d known about softball when she decided it might be a good thing for the boys to play in the yard was the name – “and I nearly lost a tooth.”

She pressed her tongue to the back of that tooth, but it was still sound. The wonders of magic. Apparently, after Stephen was born, Mom had spent every spare moment for weeks immersed in books of home remedies and patch-up spells; at the time, people had thought she was approaching a mania on the subject and that she needed nerve pills, but it had proven handy when she’d abruptly gone from two kids to five kids a few years later. Now, they all had all of their teeth and extremities and most of their wits, which Julian didn’t think was a job Mom should be ashamed of at all. She wasn’t sure she’d have done as well in Mom’s position.

Sometimes, she wondered if she should put herself in something like it someday. Like maybe she owed it to – someone, something, she didn’t know – somehow to do what had been done for her and her brothers. Sallie showing up had started it, thinking about the sort of life she might have had otherwise; she didn’t know exactly what the social status of pureblood bastards usually was, but if her biological mother had acknowledged her and her biological father failed to do so, she doubted life would have been very good for them at all, and suspected it would have been less than happy even if Richard had claimed and provided financially for her while he was still alive. Julian had never really thought being the protagonist of a fairy tale sounded that great anyway (those girls had too much of a tendency to end up at least temporarily dead) and a disinterested, philandering father and resentful, childless stepmother seemed like a good set-up for a new version of Snow White.

Well, if she ended up with a bunch of money instead of a Prince Charming out of the business, maybe she’d throw some of it at the problems she had with the world instead of interfering directly herself, or try to strike a balance between the two, or…something. Luckily, it would be years before she could do anything about anything; until then, she was happy to let Mom be in charge of everything, even when she didn’t really totally agree with her. She had more pressing problems, like flying sports equipment.

“I think the difference is that softballs are just bigger than baseballs,” she added. “I think that’s what we figured out after a while. Sports are fun for some people, I guess, but…not us,” she concluded, twisting her hair around her finger. She had started wearing it down more, though she didn’t really remember when she had started. It looked, she thought, better that way than pulled into the more practical ponytail, though she still went for that hairstyle in the classes where her hair was more likely to get singed off or prove a crucial distraction to her. Now, she thought she would be okay to just push it back over her shoulders to keep it out of the way for the moment she’d need to try the spell out. “I had fun playing with my brothers, sometimes, when we were little, but make-believe was more fun than stuff like this, and it only worked at all because it was just us.” She let go over her hair and put it back over her shoulders. “Though really, I was just complaining about this because I didn’t practice last night,” she admitted. “You don’t faint at the sight of missing teeth, do you?” she joked. When it wasn’t the excitement of a game, even just one with her brothers, interfering with reasonable thinking, she thought she would have the sense and skill to duck – well, at least fall in the right direction – if all else failed, so her teeth were probably safe today.
16 Julian Umland Doctor's orders versus teacher's, hard decision. 254 Julian Umland 0 5

Charlie B-F-R

August 31, 2014 4:27 AM
“So then they hurt more of you,” Charlie commented, when Julian explained what a so-called soft ball was, “Why would anyone invent that, let alone call it that? I mean, really, what's the point? That's not even a new sport, if you just change the size of the ball.”

When Julian asked if he fainted at the sight of missing teeth, he made a noise that was mostly comprised of vowel sounds, accompanied by a shudder.

“It's never been put to the test and I rather hope it shan't be today. I can't say I feel entirely well at the mere thought of it.” The line edged forward and he reluctantly shuffled along with it.

“My face... my poor beautiful face..” he muttered, as he watched his classmate's varying attempts at tackling the giant and violent baseballs.

“Although maybe if I do faint, I won't have to do it myself...” he pondered. Not that he hoped anyone's teeth did get knocked out – the thought of it did make him feel quite woozy, let alone what it would feel like for the poor victim. He tried to stop picturing bloodied mouths, or gaping holes in the fronts of people's faces but now that Julian had put that idea into his head, it was all he could think about.

“Talk about something else,” he requested, “Distract me, please.”
13 Charlie B-F-R ...where balls fly at my nose 252 Charlie B-F-R 0 5

Julian Umland

September 01, 2014 8:28 PM
“It might make it a little easier to hit,” suggested Julian. “A bigger target, you know?” Not enough bigger to significantly improve Julian’s own success rate with hitting it, but while she wasn’t as clumsy as she had been when she was younger, she doubted she would have made much of an athlete even if she’d been trained since birth, and hitting small objects with a stick of wood was not one of the life skills her mom had thought of as valuable enough to push on her once it became obvious she did not have much of a natural talent for it. Pity Mom didn’t feel the same way about Latin, really….

“Sports do love their blood and guts, though,” she conceded, since they did. She remembered that a friend of Mom’s had once, in a long discussion with Mom and Paul, probably about the latter’s school reading at the time, used sport teams as an example of a theory about the basic, pre-civilized character of mankind. Julian had been on pouring duty that day, so most of her attention had been on either the level of everyone’s cups or not dropping the teapot, but she thought they had started out talking about the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries before sports, Plato, the Pope, and Parliament had all gotten dragged into it, too. It had actually been sort of interesting, even though Julian hadn’t read most of the books they were talking about yet and suspected the conversation had been a lot more interesting than the background reading for it was going to be next year.

She tried hard not to smile at Charlie’s anxiety about his face. “Er – how’s your sister doing?” she asked when he asked for a distraction. She hadn’t known Henny well, but she had liked her in book club. She hoped she had landed on her feet in the outside world, if university, where she was sure Henny would go eventually, really counted as the outside world. From what she’d seen with her older brothers, they did have more options, but it was still school, so she wasn’t sure if it really counted as that separate from what they were doing now or not.

The line shuffled forward and at last, there was no more ducking it. In a manner of speaking. “Well, here goes,” she said, smiling cheerily, and took out her wand.

Okay. Okay. Watch the ball. Or where it’s going to come out, then the ball. The opening’s right there, so just point the wand there, and –

Aresto momentum!” exclaimed Julian, and then repeated it when the ball just seemed to slow a little instead of stopping. She flinched, but before she could say it again, the ball dropped to the floor, bouncing at her feet.

“See? Piece of cake,” she remarked to Charlie, then stepped a little to the side to wait for him to finish his attempt. “Just watch where it’s going to come out, point at that part, the opening –“
16 Julian Umland Would a helmet help? 254 Julian Umland 0 5

Charlie B-F-R

September 23, 2014 4:25 AM
“And makes a bigger bruise when it hits you,” Charlie objected, when Julian mused that softballs might be easier to hit owing to their size.

“Urgh, you don't have to tell me,” he nodded, when she mentioned sports loving their blood and guts, “I have to watch Quidditch with my eyes shut.

“She's fine,” he smiled, when she asked about Henny, definitely glad for the distraction. “She's started uni doing a wizarding literature course. Their term starts later than ours but she's there now – I got my first letter from her last week. She's just settled in and had all the orientation stuff and was eagerly anticipating the start of classes – you can take the girl out of Aladren...” he added with a rye smile. “How's your brother settling in here?” he asked, as the topic of siblings seemed to be providing a reasonably good distraction from their impending doom.

However, the trouble with passing the time meant it went by quicker, and soon Charlie was peering from half behind his fingers as a high speed, not-very-soft ball was catapulted at his friend. He squeaked as her spell hit but the ball slowed instead of stopping.

“Duck!” he muttered under his breath, “Duckduckduck!” But Julian held her nerve, readying herself for another attempt... He couldn't watch. And then... then there was a soft thud of the ball hitting the mat, and Julian reassuring him that it was fine. Which meant he was up. He fidgeted as he faced the machine, rehearsing the spell in his head. Except he hadn't finished, didn't feel prepared when it spat a ball at him, lightning fast.

“Nonononono!” he shouting at it, vaguely remembering he was supposed to use his wand to defend himself and slashing it wildly a few times before simply flinging his hands over his head and dodging for cover before the ball came any closer. It hit the back of the net. Charlie straightened up, walking to the back of the line with Julian.

“Dignity is over-rated when it's a choice between that and teeth being in tact,” he informed her primly before she could say anything about his attempt.
13 Charlie B-F-R Does it have a visor? 252 Charlie B-F-R 0 5

Julian Umland

September 23, 2014 6:13 PM
“I was trying to look at the bright side,” scolded Julian lightly when Charlie pointed out that a bigger target left a bigger bruise. “But you have a point.”

She smiled sympathetically at watching Quidditch with closed eyes – which she guessed was really just sitting in the general vicinity of Quidditch, or listening to Quidditch, instead of watching it, but she didn’t think arguing over the distinction would do a good job of distracting him from his certainty that he was about to have his teeth knocked out by the Softball of Doom. Siblings were a better topic.

“I think it’s a lifelong condition,” she said when he joked about Henny still being an Aladren even though she technically wasn’t anymore. It made sense, she guessed, when Houses were determined based on their personalities, though it did make her wonder about, well, the possibility that people changed. Some did, or so she had always heard. What if someone started to change enough in school that they started to fit in with another House better than their own? What if an Aladren had a nervous breakdown and become codependent and too apathetic to want to learn, or if…something happened to make a Teppenpaw become a misanthrope? How much of a difference was there between being focused on solutions and being focused on cooperation and self-improvement? Cooperation made solutions, a lot of the time, and solutions were necessary to survival, caution helped with survival, too...what if a Crotalus went through some trauma that made him or her become reckless and no longer care about society? Would they be…kicked out or something? “My mom’s like forty-something and she’s still like that.”

“He’s why I’m going to have to watch Quidditch with my eyes shut this year,” she said grimly when he asked about John. “He joined the Aladren team. He’s being very…social.” Since for most people, that wasn’t that unusual, she added, “Normally he hates meeting new people. We were all worried about it, but the only thing I’ve seen him get annoyed about since we got here is the Care of Magical Creatures book. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

It was strange enough that Julian almost wondered if it had been worth it to send him to school with her, which she assumed her parents had done so she could look out for him and help him adjust. He might have done just as well back home. It made her feel…oddly unnecessary, though she knew that was silly.

She knew the nerves she and Charlie shared about the task was silly, too, but that didn’t do too much to alleviate it. She winced as he flailed with his wand and then just ducked, as he had been urging her to do a moment before, then struggled to keep a straight face at his justification of the action.

“That makes sense,” she said solemnly. “Our Aladren-type parents might think differently about grades, though. Someone can just charm our teeth back in.” Both of her parents had very particular slight frowns they only used when they were disappointed; Julian would take a softball to the face any day rather than see Dad’s version of it. “You can do it. Just repeat the words a lot before we get back up there.” She shook her head. “Aresto momentum. It sounds exactly like what you want it to do. I don’t know why we even half-Latin it or whatever.”
16 Julian Umland If you want one. 254 Julian Umland 0 5

Charlie B-F-R

September 24, 2014 4:01 AM
“Oh, eek,” Charlie said, with a sympathetic grimace when Julian mentioned her brother joining the Quidditch team.

“Now, whilst it's good to be sociable, is he aware that there are many more less life-and-facial-feature threatening options available to him? Fashion club, for example - I hear that's what all the cool boys are joining these days. It's like... the opposite of Quidditch. It actively increases your chances of looking fabulous.

“What did the Creatures book do to offend him?” he queried, somewhat baffled.

My Aladren-type parent would be on my side,” he countered. Aladren-type was fitting as Father had actually gone to school in Canada but had he come to Sonora, there was no doubt as to which house he would have been sorted into. “His natural habitat is a dusty room full of books and he only indulges in things as adventurous as fresh air when Dad says he's getting too peaky and makes him. If I had failed to use my magical powers to... I don't know, stop a first edition falling into a puddle, then I'd be in trouble but I'm fairly sure the inclusion of sports is a decent mitigating circumstance in his eyes.
"Not my area of expertise," he shrugged, when Julian mentioned semi-Latinising things, even though he doubted she'd been expecting any revelations from him on the matter. He'd skimmed over any sections he'd come across on the subject and hoped against hope that spell writing wasn't a popular exam topic. Henny assured him it was all deeply fascinating but he couldn't get enthused about it.
13 Charlie B-F-R Are they in this season? 252 Charlie B-F-R 0 5

Julian Umland

September 25, 2014 5:10 PM
“I really don’t see him taking that alternative,” said Julian when Charlie proposed that John join the fashion club. “The thing John likes about uniforms is that he doesn’t have to remember which shirts he’s already worn this week if the laundry’s ever done before Saturday. The only time he and Mom ever really argue is when she wants him to dress nicely for something….”

His little friends had seemed taken aback when Mom had wrangled him into a jacket and tie for his confirmation last year. There had been some discussion of whether or not he had been replaced by a shapeshifter that didn’t know him very well, which had made her uneasy until he muttered something about Joanie and Rafe liking Muggle some science fiction franchise about mutants, some of whom could apparently change their appearances at will; he’d then started babbling about chameleons and reptiles and how they were different from mammals, at which point she’d stopped listening. At first, when it started with that little group a few years ago, Julian had been glad to see her brother interacting, willingly and amicably, with people outside their immediate family, but she’d gotten a little worried as it went on and he started associating with those kids outside of organized activities, afraid that he would get comfortable, get careless, slip up, and say something he shouldn’t (this possibility was why they were all involved in everything but close to nobody; Julian and Stephen had had acquaintances before school, but not real friends, and she thought Paul still didn’t aside from Steve) but they had just been teasing him about his unusually sharp appearance. None of them suspected anything.

“It failed to be pedantic enough.” Julian grimaced and shrugged. “He wants to be a magizoologist when he grows up,” she said matter-of-factly. “And the book doesn’t talk about – orders and phyla and I-don’t-even-know-what, or convergent evolution, or have any cell diagrams – those are, um, all things from, er, Muggle science,” she said, a little awkwardly. “He’s obsessed with that stuff, how they started trying to explain the world after the Statute of Secrecy, and he thinks they study things better than we do. Our parents, even our brothers, they’ve tried to explain to him that it doesn’t work that way, that you can’t explain things the way he wants to, but…well, he’ll learn eventually, I guess. Or just lose interest.” First years were notorious for losing interest in stuff and ending up somewhere completely different after school. “What kind of classes does Henny have to start with?”

The jump back made sense to her as she remembered the Muggle books in book club – odd that, despite not being people she thought of as very similar, both their Aladren siblings should share an appreciation for the Other Way of Doing Things. Julian appreciated some of the literature, too, but not the scientific stuff; she couldn’t see the appeal of spending one’s life in hazardous situations or in peering at tiny little things through lenses or even peering at hazardous tiny little things through lenses. She had no idea what she wanted to be when she grew up, but she knew it wasn’t someone who did that.

“Be that as it may,” said Julian firmly when Charlie said his Aladren parent would be on his side. “This is a very useful spell for you to know. Imagine that a mean little kid is throwing a big clump of grass and mud right at your best outfit. Our neighbor did that once when I was in my Easter dress, so it happens a lot more than softballs do. You could just do a scouring charm, but by then, your whole day will be all messed up because it did hit it and people laughed, but if you stop it before it gets there, then all the other nasty little brats will know not to mess with you. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
16 Julian Umland We'll set a new trend. 254 Julian Umland 0 5