Professor Olivers
August 25, 2014 12:46 AM
Let's Slow Things Down [III, IV, V years] by Professor Olivers
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: That sounds like a great idea. by Julian Umland, Teppenpaw with Charlie B-F-R
Works for me. by Isaac Douglas, Crotalus
Is this what they call an anxiety attack? by Charlotte Spencer with Serena Brockert, Teppenpaw
Go on. by Leo Princeton, Crotalus with Emrys Lucan, Aladren, Leo Princeton
Bruise #1 for the day. by Virginia Bellrose, Crotalus with Francesca Wolseithcrafte, Aladren, Ginny
Ugh. by Portia Dobson, Teppenpaw with Theodore Wolseithcrafte, Aladren
If I don't mind, it doesn't matter? by Ji-Eun Park, Pecari
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Professor Olivers
Let's Slow Things Down [III, IV, V years]
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Professor Olivers
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Virginia Bellrose, Crotalus
September 04, 2014 10:06 PM
Bruise #1 for the day. by Virginia Bellrose, Crotalus
Virginia usually enjoyed Charms class. Of all the lessons that dealt with her wand, this was by far the easiest for her. But these last couple of years had her questioning the professor’s way of teaching. Every class she feared some game that they would play that would end up with her being embarrassed over something. Most of the professors seemed to have a day like this in their lessons, but Professor Olivers seemed to have endless amounts of it. Ginny guessed it was because of her background. She had heard that the Charms professor had a background in drama of some sort. Ginny wasn’t judging her for her background, of course. As a Dancer, she respected all forms of art, she only wished that the lessons the Professor was providing were less invasive to her well-being.Walking into the classroom and seeing how it was set up, she knew it was going to be one of those lessons. Ginny gave an internal sigh. This would end poorly for someone and she really hoped that someone did not end up being her. Now that she was a Prefect (still something that she was not accustom too nor did she feel she had earned like as the others had), Virginia felt a whole lot of pressure on herself to be absolutely perfect around her peers. She was worried that if she flubbed up anything, they would all believe that the badge did not belong to her and that she was a fake. She wanted to belong with her friends and just by chance she was able to do this with them, she didn’t want to lose her opportunity to be with her friends. She knew that she had joked with Adam about how if she never came back he and Francesca would fall madly in love, but the truth was that she was terrified of that exact thing happening. She would forever be a third wheel and forgotten if they started dating. It was selfish of her to want them both to herself, but that was how she felt. They were her first friends after a life of having no one but the staff of the house she was raised in; she didn’t want that to disappear.
While the professor spoke and explained what they were doing, Ginny looked over the three stations carefully. She had thankfully done the homework and had a pretty good handle on the spell, but she wasn’t so sure she could handle anything sportsman like. There were reasons why she had never joined up in Quidditch (more so than just her parents not wanting her to do it in the first place). As athletic as she was as a dancer, it did not translate well into sports. She hoped she wouldn’t have to be doing anything too extraneous. By the end of the lecture though, Ginny had an idea of what she was doing, she just wasn’t sure if her wand skill was good enough to handle a flying ball (she doubted that it was soft considering they were fifth years and the fourth years had a quaffle…she had no idea what anyone was playing at for calling it such a thing).
She watched others step into the cage and attempt the spell. Some were successful, others were not. Her anxiety grew the closer she was to the cage. She really didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of everyone, especially because she was a Prefect. She really didn’t! Ginny took a deep breath and tried to steady her hands as she stepped into the cage. Even before she had her wand up, the ball was coming quickly towards her. She only managed to shout the spell before turning her face away and bracing herself for the impact. The ball hit her in the shoulder, hard enough for a bruise, but not as hard as it should have. She had at least slowed it down a bit that was something. The ball had just come too quickly for her instincts to react fast enough to stop it. She hadn’t been properly prepared and now her shoulder ached. Rubbing it, Ginny made her way back to the line, trying not to look anyone in the eye and hoped others would do equally as terrible as she did so that she wasn’t the stand alone in failure. “I really hate physical lessons. They never end well for me.” Ginny mumbled to the person nearest to her.
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Virginia Bellrose, Crotalus
Bruise #1 for the day.
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Virginia Bellrose, Crotalus
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte, Aladren
September 07, 2014 7:29 AM
First and last - think positive by Francesca Wolseithcrafte, Aladren
Francesca was pondering the ball as she walked to Charms. It was hard to believe they had cycled through all the Midsummer events and back to this one already. In her first year, it had just been a bit of fun – a party to end a particularly good year on. Four years certainly made a lot of difference... She couldn't help but feel there might be dates this time and she wasn't really sure how she felt about that. Their group was one guy and two girls, which didn't really divide well into dates. She didn't want to be the one left on the sidelines but nor did she want to be part of the reason it happened to Ginny... She wondered about suggesting the three of them went as friends, to avoid having to cross that bridge way before they'd even come to it. But... was it what she wanted? It was sort of nice to think about having a date, even if she wasn't sure how she specifically felt about it being Adam. She'd never got any hassle for being a girl who played Quidditch but having an actual date would be the icing on the cake, point-proving-wise. Of course, she had no idea whether Adam would want to go with her like that. Maybe he wanted to take Ginny.... If she put the brakes on that by suggesting they all went as friends that was rather selfish. If she didn't want Adam in that way (which was still an 'if'... how did you know that kind of thing when you already liked someone plenty to begin with?), why should she mind if Ginny did, or if he saw her like that? It left her on her own, which wasn't nice, but it wasn't exactly fair on them either....Her attention was distracted from this as she entered the Charms room, which was set out for some sporting activity (at least, she assumed so from the piles of balls – she had no idea what the things they were piled into were). Well, at least this class was off to a good start. She'd practised the spell diligently, as she always did, until she could do it with ease, and applying it in this kind of situation favoured her – it seemed like the kind of pressure she could handle.
She watched Ginny step up and manage pretty well, for someone who didn't have balls flung at them on a regular basis. She stepped up after her friend, wand at the ready. It would be embarrassing to fail at this she thought, and then tried to quell that because it really wasn't a helpful thing to think.
She kept her eye on the... mouth? Could a machine have a mouth? The ball-spitting part, anyway, beginning her incantation as soon as she saw the flash of colour appear in the tube.
“Arresto-momentum!” she cast, swishing her wand to a spot a few inches higher than where the ball would come out. She'd studied the arc they took as she waited for her turn. Her spell sizzled forward. The ball didn't stop dead as it should have done but it lost enough of its speed to start dropping and fall out of the air. She guessed she'd had a lot more to think about in terms of angle and timing than she had when practising. Still, she doubted she'd started any rumours that the Aladren Quidditch team would be a walk-over this year.
She rejoined the back of the line, where Ginny was bemoaning the way physical classes went for her.
“For someone who doesn't often do that kind of thing, you did ok,” she reassured her. “You kept your eye on the ball, managed to hit it and have some effect. Don't do yourself down.”
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte, Aladren
First and last - think positive
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte, Aladren
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Ginny
September 09, 2014 9:14 PM
I'll be positive when balls stop flying at me. by Ginny
Being a dancer, Ginny was accustomed to pain. She had learned how to take a fall, she had split her lip, broke her wrist, broke some toes one time or another, tore her feet up to shreds, and had endless bruises from bad landings or knocked elbows with other dancers. It was just part of the learning process. Pain was tolerable to her and the bruise that was sure to come after the hit from the ball would just blend into the background for her. She’ll but some salve on it when she returned to her room after lessons. But the feeling of humiliation that occurred after messing up in front of her classmates was not a feeling that she was used to nor was it one that she necessarily enjoyed. Perhaps if it had only been with her fellow Fifth years, Ginny wouldn’t feel so flustered about it, but it had been in front of two younger class years as well. These are the students she was supposed to be a role model to and if she can’t get the spell right, then there was no reason for them to feel like she was worth the badge that she wore.It didn’t help matters that Francesca had gone in the cage after Ginny and had managed to stop the ball before it attacked her. Francesca always did better. She never seemed to fail at anything. Ginny didn’t know how she did it. Everything just always seemed to fall into place for her while Ginny struggled along behind her. Adam seemed less perfect, which might be why she felt more of an equal to him than she did to Francesca. It wasn’t anything that Francesca had done on purpose, she was just being herself, Ginny just felt like maybe Francesca should have been friends with someone more on her level rather than Ginny, who always felt so inadequate.
“Mmm.” She mumbled when Francesca rejoined her in line and gave positive feedback. “I suppose.” She said. “But you managed to get it to stop, which is great. I can’t seem to ever get my spells to work on the first try.” She stated, dropping her hand from her shoulder to stop herself from rubbing it anymore. “Unfortunately, Charms is not a class that I can drop after this year.” Ginny had been trying to figure out what, if any, lessons she could stop taking at the end of the year. Charms was never an option. This type of magic was necessary for everyday life purposes. That would probably be said for Transfiguration as well (not one of her favorites, but still a manageable subject for her). Defense was definitely out. If Ginny wasn’t married off for a husband to protect her, she might as well just die from whatever it was that was attacking her. At least then she could no longer be a family shame. She was still thinking about Potions, it would really depend on her CATS.
“If lessons continue on this way, I’ll have to write home for a proper wardrobe. Mother wouldn’t like that.” Her mother refused to allow her to wear any sort of pant or sneaker. The closest Ginny came to any of that were dance bottoms and her tap shoes. If her mother saw her in any such garments as pants, she would think Ginny was too masculine and would send her off to learn lessons on how to be a proper lady. Ginny was not exaggerating with these thoughts. Her mother had sworn to her that it was what she would do. However, if Ginny had lessons where it was possible for her to fall flat on her face, she’d rather fall knowing she wasn’t going to show off her knickers than have a scandal like that.
Ginny sighed. She wanted to rub her eyes, but she was wearing liner and didn’t want to smear it. This year was terrible. There was so much stress, what with the badge, the ball, and the CATS? She wasn’t getting very much sleep. “How are things going for you?” Ginny asked her friend. Surely some of the stress was wearing on her friend too.
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Ginny
I'll be positive when balls stop flying at me.
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Ginny
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte
September 23, 2014 10:35 PM
Not really an option for me by Francesca Wolseithcrafte
“Nor can I,” Francesca reminded her softly, when Ginny mentioned never getting spells right on the first try. The theory came naturally to Francesca, she was smart, but she had never been strong at practical magic. The first lesson spent on each new spell was frustrating and often fruitless for her. She put in plenty of out of hours practise to make sure she could do well enough to keep her grades where she wanted them. Ginny, of all people, knew this. She was also the only one Francesca had ever worried to about it – about whether, if her Aladren classmates noticed her slow results, they would think she wasn't good enough to be one of them, about how much it frustrated her to be able to understand but not to do the spells. Yes, she'd hit the ball on the first try, but that was after practising the spell all day yesterday. It wasn't like it came naturally to her.“Here, you want some of this?” she fished in her pocket, pulling out a tin of 'Beat The Beaters!' bruise balm.
“What are you thinking of taking next year?” she asked. It was a little scary how they were only just beginning their fifth year yet everyone was talking already about what to do next year, or even beyond that. Not that she lacked ideas in that department, it just felt so strange – like they were being hurried out of the door when, to her, that seemed years and years away still.
She grinned at Ginny's comment about a proper wardrobe. She owned plenty of trousers, as Quidditch in anything else really wasn't practical. She was often tempted to wear them to classes as they were a lot more comfortable and easier to get along with than skirts but she had to be ladylike when she was off the field. She was sure that mother wouldn't object to her having worn them to this particular class, had she known in advance what they would be doing but as she hadn't the point was moot.
“I feel there are limitations to how adventurous classes can get given we're supposed to wear our robes, so hopefully that won't be necessary.
“Same as usual...” she shurgged, when Ginny asked how things were going for her, her tone definitely conveying that this didn't mean any kind of walk in the park - the usual meant getting the theory whilst struggling with the practical, all the while balancing it with a tough Quidditch schedule. “But with an impending sense of doom,” she added, in reference to the way no adult seemed capable of going five minutes without reminding them that This Year Really Counts. “I'm glad I'm not AC this year – poor Adam. How about you?”
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte
Not really an option for me
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte
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Ginny
October 02, 2014 9:56 PM
Well, in a way, it is. by Ginny
Ginny sighed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She apologized sounding winded. “I’m just so frustrated that no matter how often I practice a spell, it’s never good enough and then the Professors put us on the spot like this and humiliate us in front of half the school… I just…” Ginny stopped talking, her cheeks were burning. She had to be a better critique of herself when it came to her spell work. For some reason, any flaw that happened outside of the classroom she could forgive and get over. But in the classroom was completely different. Making mistakes in front of her peers made her feel like she was worthless to all of this. She just didn’t know how to explain it.She knew that Francesca had problems too, but her friend always seemed to present herself in the most sophisticated ways that Ginny think any of her peers would find a flaw on her. Even if she did mess up right in front of their eyes. It was just how it was. Or, how Ginny felt that it was. It probably wasn’t like that but Ginny always assumed Francesca was the girl everyone thought was the perfect Proper Pureblood while Ginny was an awkward annoyance.
“Oh, thank you.” Ginny stated, giving her friend a smile. Ginny was surprised that Francesca carried hers around with her. Did she use a lot of it during the course of a day? “Mine’s in my dance bag since that’s usually the only time I end up hurting myself. “ Ginny commented. “But I should probably just start carrying it around like you do as I have a feeling these next couple of years will be very physically demanding to me.” Ginny wondered how Adam had fared in the box. He was athletic like Francesca in a sporty way, if nothing else, he probably dodged it unlike her.
After applying the paste, Ginny returned the container back to her friend. She was grateful that all the spills with dancing made such moments like this easy for her to handle. She was sure if she hadn’t had the dance background, she would have cried at being hit with the hard ‘soft’ ball.
“Definitely not Defense.” Ginny answered without hesitation. “I hate that class.” She admitted, although she was sure Francesca was well aware of her feeling on it by now. “And I may possibly drop Potions. It’s just not something I seem to be able to grasp that well. But Charms and Transfiguration seem like a necessity for life and I enjoy Care of Magical Creatures. What about you? Have anything in mind?” Francesca was an Aladren, were they even allowed to drop classes? Ginny thought that might be a sin for them.
“That’s true.” Ginny agreed, thinking of the robes, “But we may be asked to remove them at some point as well.” She didn’t always enjoy wearing the robes since they hid her wonderful clothes, but if it kept her from having to run around and throw spells at people or objects, she was okay with them.
“Yeah, he has a lot on his plate, but he seems to do it all so well.” Ginny commented. At least, when she was around him even if he complained, he still seemed in such good spirits. “Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, like my head is going to fall off under the stress of all the work.” Ginny told her honestly. It was hard for her outside of class to focus. Being in her own room, not having friends in her own house, she often felt herself becoming distracted. She preferred studying with her friends. They kept her on target.
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Ginny
Well, in a way, it is.
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Ginny
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