Professor Lilac Crosby
July 01, 2011 12:37 AM
It... is alive! [Third, fourth, and fifth years!] by Professor Lilac Crosby
It had thus far been a relatively quiet year for Lilac. She wasn’t sure she liked that. This term, she felt almost disconnected with her first year Teppenpaws as she had felt a sudden illness coming on the day of the Opening Feast. Not feeling well, she had consequently asked Pippa Brockert, seventh year prefect, lead them to their common room and deliver the welcoming speech. Even this simple task was very important, and she was glad it was Pippa in whom she invested her trust.So perhaps the first years of her House did not know her as well as some of the older students. Some of that mild quietness was, as she had been the term before, a bit less distraction or whatever it was about her that bothered students. Maybe, however, a little bit of it this year was trying not to embarrass her niece who now attended Sonora. Her antics outside of school never seemed to bother Sally, but it could be different in a formal, professor-student situation.
The class for which Lilac was now preparing was not Sally’s. The third, fourth, and fifth years would soon come piling in for their intermediate Transfiguration lesson. Her straightened hair she pulled back and wrapped into a bun. After her hair was up and formal, she went behind her desk and picked up a few things for the day’s lessons and sat them on the desks of the students. For more surface space, she had pushed two to three desks together.
Not long thereafter, the students began to enter, and the brunette professor tugged at her--very teacher-y--sweater in subtle discomfort, pulling the bottom of it farther down to overlap a good few inches of her pale brown skirt. “As soon as everyone is seated,” said she to those who already were, “we will begin.”
Once all the students found themselves a seat, Lilac stood in the center of the front of the class for the most visibility. “Good day, class,” the twenty-eight year old smiled. “Before you on your desks you see a Muggle form of transportation, a model train. The black oval it sits along is called the track.”
“These trains do not move on their own accord,” continued the professor. “That is where our spell will come in. Allow me to demonstrate.” She stepped over to the train and track on her own desk and aimed her wand. This spell had no accompanying wand movement. As she incanted, the words appeared on the board. “Piertotum locomotor.”
The train began to move in the direction and at the speed her wand circled the track. “This spell brings animation to inanimate objects, allowing the caster to control its movement.” She stopped using her wand as a guide, but the train continued on. “If you have it following your wand precisely, try focusing in your mind on the motion rather than guiding the train itself. If you focus, it will continue to comply.”
Suddenly the train came to a halt. “To end the motion, simply think in your mind about the train sitting still. As we have two or three to a track, please be sure to take turns.” She certainly didn’t want anyone to miss out because their partner was selfish. “Unless there are any questions, you may begin,” concluded Lilac. She would, as usual, be walking around the classroom, in case any questions should arise.
Subthreads: ...I don't think I want sentient toys. by Sara Raines, Pecari with Marcus Williams, Sara
It is? by Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus with Jane Carey, Teppenpaw
It's the middle, the middle of my story by Nic Sawyer, Crotalus with Samantha Hamilton
The important part is, does it hate us? by David Wilkes, Aladren with Autumn Collins, Crotalus
Eeeek! by Kirstenna Melcher,Teppenpaw with Sam Bauer, Crotalus
CLASS CLOSED (nm) by Professor C.
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Professor Lilac Crosby
It... is alive! [Third, fourth, and fifth years!]
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Professor Lilac Crosby
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Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus
July 03, 2011 11:19 PM
It is? by Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus
Although Ryan probably had the lowest self-esteem of anyone in the entire school, he felt somewhat sure of his ability in Transfiguration. He knew he was above average and that made him feel slightly better about himself, just for a little while. It made him feel good that even with his mental deficiency, the one his mother had insisted he'd had his whole life, Ryan still had magical ability in a very difficult branch of magic.Of course, his mother always insisted he was a near Squib while Carrie was infinitely more powerful, more intelligent, more attractive and all around better to Ryan in every way. In turn, Ryan's aunts and uncles and grandfather insisted his mother was completely delusional. Though, they had never actually met his little sister, but his father never said anything to suggest Carrie was superior to Ryan. Nor had the Crotalus observed such in those rare instances where he'd been unfortunate enough to be around the nine year old.
The third year quietly took the seat next to the one he usually did, which was occupied by an older student already. Though Ryan had less fear of Professor Crosby than he did of most faculty members-he was still pretty much convinced Coach Pierce hated him because he was the worst flyer in the entire school-and was better at Transfiguration than other things, he still did not want to sit in front where people could see and laugh at him if he screwed up.
Besides, he often felt weird in Transfiguration and it was best not to call attention to certain things. It was extremely strange having his uncle's girlfriend as a teacher.
Ryan also felt being in a class with fifth years was rather intimidating. The work might be harder than it had been, though from what Ryan had gathered, the lessons Professor Crosby had taught him as a first year were meant for older students and that was why they had suddenly gotten easier in the middle of last year and Professor Crosby had started dressing differently. Ryan knew his uncle was not that thrilled about that part of it as he had liked Professor Crosby just the way she was already.
Ryan looked down at the strange train thing on his desk. This spell sounded more like a charm than anything. He was all right at Charms, but Ryan would have preferred a transfiguration. When he transfigured things, he usually made at least some progress and that made Ryan feel good, something he rarely felt.
He turned to his apparent partner, and asked "Who do you want to go first?" Ryan still always let the other person have first pick of things, make all the decisions. He could more easily avoid making someone angry or unhappy if things went their way rather than his. Especially when he had no strong feelings on a subject either way, like right now.
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Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus
It is?
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Ryan O'Malley, Crotalus
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Jane Carey, Teppenpaw
July 04, 2011 7:19 PM
I don't really think so by Jane Carey, Teppenpaw
She knew it was ridiculous, considering the temperatures outside the climate-control charms and even the weather within them, but Jane had woken up wanting to wear an old, wide-necked gray sweater she had, so - after a few moments of contemplating who she'd see most, and how their thoughts on it ranked comparatively - she had. She had Transfiguration Potions, where the rooms were often a little cold, today anyway, and the white dress she had on was the sort of thing she'd worn to play when she was little, short-sleeved and with a skirt that covered her knees completely but was a good three inches short of her ankles.She didn't know why, since it wasn't raining and she didn't think she was ill, but it just felt like the kind of day for wearing a sweater, even if it was a pretty light one and she did take it off for meals, and going to class with her hair only perfunctorily touched with a brush and the bangs pulled back off her face in a ribbon and no lipstick, though that otherwise went more with her normal persona than with the moods where she wasn't up to standards. It was kind of hard to pay attention in class, and she still felt like a little bit of an outsider now that most of the people she was acquainted with except Autumn and Kirstenna were in the Advanced group, so she'd started sitting in the back, too, and didn't vary the pattern for Transfiguration. Instead of going over something, she spent the time before class began studying her fingernails.
Her mind, though, followed the lesson without her input, recognizing that they were working in what it considered the gray area between Charms and Transfiguration, for this not to be a simple locomotive charm. She wasn't sure what exactly about the nature of the little train thing they were changing, but the second level, where it could remain active without direct guidance, must have been the line - or so she reasoned.
She stopped picking at her cuticles, not because it hurt - it had been doing that for a bit, now - but because the practical lesson was beginning and she was afraid she was about to make it bleed, which would just be a mess if anyone noticed before she got her wand out. Goodness, she really wasn't doing well today. She always had her wand out before the class began.
"If you like," she said, with a slightly unfocused smile for the third year who asked her if she wanted to go first. She felt a little bad for most of the third years. It had been all right for her, she and Edmond had always been tutored together and she was used to being expected to keep up, but unless the professors were willing to jeopardize CATS scores, most of them were being asked to work with the fifth years when they weren't at all accustomed to it. Only the fourth years got much of a bargain in these classes, generally speaking. She pointed her wand at the model and said, "Piertotum locomotor."
The train began to move, nearly derailing before she remembered herself enough to direct its movement around the loop. When it came back to where it's engine was facing her other, propped-up elbow, more or less the position at which it had begun, she stopped it."You can try the first step before I try to move it without the wand, if you want," she said.
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Jane Carey, Teppenpaw
I don't really think so
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Jane Carey, Teppenpaw
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Ryan
July 10, 2011 6:33 PM
Oh, okay. by Ryan
So the person that Ryan had spoken to was an older student, which was okay, as Ryan thought she was one of the fourth years rather than a fifth year. He still felt deferential to her, but then he pretty much felt deferential to everyone. Ryan would probably find himself below even a house elf.In fact, he often was on par with house elves. Sometimes they had even been treated better than Ryan. He'd never had to do their chores-his mother would not want him touching her things or Carrie's-but if one of the house elves did something wrong, Ryan was often blamed either for actually doing it or commanding the house elf to do it.
That was something Ryan would never do. He had trouble ordering them around to begin with as they were like his friends.He had eaten with them and slept in their quarters before as a punishment, which really had not bothered Ryan that much. His favorite house-elf, Bonky, had been Ryan's best friend prior to meeting Sophie and sleeping in house elf quarters was like a sleep-over. Of course, Mrs. O'Malley had stopped punishing Ryan this way once she figured out that he liked it. The same fortunately had not happened with going to his grandparents when his father wasn't home, probably because his mother did not want him around.
Ryan really hoped Bonky would continue to live with Ryan and his father after the divorce. The Crotalus would not put it past his mother to do something terrible to Bonky just to hurt him.
It might seem to some people that that was a self-important way for Ryan to think, but his mother was capable of an awful lot and she hated him. Ryan was still not entirely sure why, something about him being an icky boy rather than the daughter she had wanted and got four years later. And now she had to hate Ryan even more for destroying their family. If he had only been better ...
Ryan watched the older girl (Jane Carey, he thought) do the spell. Once she finished, she suggested he could try step one. "All right." Ryan agreed. It wasn't like the third year would disagree, both because he did not like to be argumentative-that would lead to major trouble-and because it was the assignment.
"Piertotum locomotor." Ryan pointed his wand at the model and it began to move. He smiled. It was such a rare thing for him to feel he'd done well.
Perhaps he should introduce himself to his partner. The third year was not entirely sure of her identity and doubted she knew his. Ryan wasn't anyone important, despite his belonging to important pureblood families."Um, I'm Ryan O'Malley. Of the Colorado O'Malleys." Ryan added, knowing he needed to introduce himself properly if he was talking to who he thought he was talking to. He didn't want to make a mistake and have her angry with him.
Ryan looked at her. Something seemed...off. Like something was wrong. He had heard her mother died. Most people would be sad about that. Ryan wondered how he'd feel if his died. He hated to think it, because it was a terrible way to feel, but Ryan didn't think he'd be all that sad. Regretful maybe that they'd never had a good relationship, because he was so inferior, but he didn't really think he would miss her.
Just like he wouldn't miss her now that his parents were divorcing and he wouldn't see her anymore. Ryan just felt relieved. Still, he knew from his cousins' relationship with their mothers-other than Amity's which already seemed to be showing signs of strain and Amity was only eight-that his relationship with his mother was not the norm.
"Are you all right?" Ryan asked. He didn't want to pry, and she could tell him as much as she wanted or as little but he was a little concerned.
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Ryan
Oh, okay.
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Ryan
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Jane
July 10, 2011 8:05 PM
I think it's most likely better than the alternative by Jane
Jane smiled again, more at what she was seeing than in the general way she had before, when the third year also mastered the first phase of the spell on his first try. “Nice job,” she said, brushing her hair back where it had fallen over her shoulder. That was the problem with the way Mother had preferred her hair to be cut, the way it was long enough to be considered properly feminine, but still short enough that it was constantly falling forward and she was having to put it back.He introduced himself to her, confirming that he was one of the third years. He was on the List, but she was sure they had never met before; though she didn’t know of anything wrong with him, she’d written him off of it, and Mother had agreed to some extent, because there were just so many pureblood girls in his year, it was inevitable that one of them would snatch him up over, well, a girl from the second, non-dominant line of the Virginia Careys, and the daughter of the less affluent of that line’s two heirs besides. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’m Jane Carey, of the Virginia Careys.”
The Big Branch. That was them. South Carolina was starting to get big because of that one man with the four or five sons and his brother with the twins, but it still only just ranked above Edgar’s line in size, and Virginia still had most of Anthony II’s line and all of Old George’s besides Edgar’s. Louisiana had begun a generation later than everyone else and was still building, Georgia’s youngest generation had no males and the one before it only had two, and it was almost a joke to talk about North Carolina these days, with its three little children batted back and forth between Georgia and South Carolina and Virginia like a ball on a string between three cats. If not for their distinctive hair color, she imagined they would have been absorbed into another branch without fuss and the existence of a North Carolina branch forgotten, but they stood out.
South Carolina had trouble with its girls, Georgia and North Carolina would take two generations to recover from Alasdair’s madness if they survived at all, and Louisiana needed at least one more to be substantial, but Virginia still stood. Virginia would always stand. The four of Thomas’ five sons who’d stayed faithful to him had all had comparatively small families themselves – Joseph had four boys, William three, George and Henry two apiece – but their sons all had sons, and their sons’ sons had sons, and those sons were starting on sons. It would take a disaster for the Virginia Careys to be wiped out. Her father, the second son at the end of the second line, only having a daughter had not even been a matter for comment.
She started the second phase with the wand, as instructed, but then began to concentrate, gradually lowering the slim piece of wood to the desk. The train slowed, nearly stopped, then resumed moving, though not as quickly as before. She frowned slightly, focusing harder, and it picked up a little speed…then it died away again…picked up again…slid to a stop, from which she couldn’t rouse it.
“Drat,” she said mildly, biting the side of the nail on the longest finger of her right hand. “It just won’t work with me now, will it?” She smiled again. “You can have a try, then I’ll try my best again.”
Her expression shifted into surprise when he asked after her well-being. “I’m just a little tired today,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t concentrate very well.” She lifted one shoulder with another smile. “Do you ever have those days? You’re not tired, exactly, but you feel like you should be, and it’s so hard to make yourself do anything, really? It’s one of those days. It’s all silly of me to let it get in the way.”
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Jane
I think it's most likely better than the alternative
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Jane
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Ryan
July 16, 2011 3:24 AM
Agreed by Ryan
"Thank you." Ryan replied, blushing. He was still not really used to compliments. It seemed like anytime he gained a little self-esteem, it ended up being depleted twice more. Whereas his sister's seemed to grow in the extreme. Carrie seemed to be more arrogant (and cruel) every time Ryan had to deal with her. He was beginning to get wary of people with too high an opinion of themself. Ryan knew they were superior to him, he didn't need them to remind him of it every chance they got.And, of course, Carrie did. Everyday she got closer to being as impossible and as horrible to him as their mother. She seemed to delight in telling Ryan how much he was to blame for their parents getting divorced. As if he couldn't do that to himself.
It really did make Ryan want to tell his dad to just forget it. To give him up and forget about him. He'd stay with his grandparents or Sophie or something when not at Sonora. To leave where he wasn't really wanted and not drag his father with him. Carrie had the right to their father too.
"It's nice to meet you too." Ryan replied. He would have used Jane's exact terminology to make sure he was saying things properly but Daisy had not seemed impressed when he'd done that with her. Ryan didn't want to make mistakes. Mistakes were bad and lead to people disliking you. Sometimes, he didn't realize he'd made one. Sometimes, it felt like he didn't do anything but make mistakes.
"All right. It was a good try though." Ryan said encouragingly. He put down his wand too and tried to move the train by concentrating. And concentrating. And concentrating .
He was about to give up and let Jane go again, as he was starting to get a headache when it finally moved...about a quarter of an inch. "Apparently it won't really work with me either." Ryan replied. His embarassment was somewhat lessened by the fact that Jane had had a difficult time too.Still, he had to do well. In all of his classes, really, but especially this one. If he didn't, Professor Crosby might turn on him and then maybe Uncle Seth would too. Or he'd cause problems between them.
Just like he had his parents.
The Crotalus nodded. "Sometimes." To be honest, Ryan was tired in class nearly everyday, especially in the morning. He was not wired to be a day person, he was a night owl and as such, had a hard time wanting to go to sleep at night. Sometimes Ryan would lie in bed trying to fall asleep and be unable to do so. Then he'd start thinking and get depressed and anxious so he had to get up and read or study until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Ryan felt it was probably for the best that he didn't have a roommate or his roommate would surely hate him for it and Ryan did not want to be hated.
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Ryan
Agreed
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Ryan
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Jane
July 23, 2011 1:09 AM
I like agreement by Jane
“Thank you,” Jane said when Ryan told her she’d done a good job of trying. Mother would have, she was sure, seen that as a good job at failing, but it wasn’t polite to say that kind of thing, especially when someone was being kind. In general, you didn’t talk about standards, you didn’t talk about anything that might cause strong feelings. That wasn’t how it worked.Sometimes, she and Edmond were given subjects to debate and had to take opposite sides, but even then, she didn’t think they’d really started getting into that kind of territory. They might say what their part would, but really, they thought so much alike on everything that she was still amazed they weren’t in the same House, sometimes. Their parents had always joked that they could just call one name, because there was almost nothing they could need one of them for that the other wouldn’t be somehow involved with. Even their tutors had seemed to consider them, despite Jane being a girl and there being some slight differences in strengths, basically interchangeable.
She had liked it when it was like that. When they had been the same. It had been nice, feeling that, whatever was going on, she wasn’t alone – they were in it together, somehow, and would get each other out. Now, though, it was different, just a little but that was enough, and she didn’t think it would ever be quite right between them again.
“It’s a start,” she encouraged Ryan when he had a harder time of it than she did. That wasn’t failure, the way her failure had been; he was a year younger, and she was either at the top or very near the top of her year anyway. “I’ll try again, and you can have a minute.”
She left her wand on the table this time, determined to move it along by sheer force of will. She could do it, she knew. After everything, she thought she could do almost anything, given enough time and enough of a reason. She could certainly do this. She could….
The train jerked suddenly into motion before slowing to a more reasonable pace and sputtering out after half a loop. She counted it as an improvement, though it made her blink as her concentration broke, her eyes straining a little, a faint throb coming into her temples, and her face feeling a little damp, though she doubted she was sweating visibly yet. It always felt worse than it was.
“That was…difficult,” she said, rubbing her eyes, then pinching the bridge of her nose for a second. “Oh, my,” she added, rubbing her eyes again. “That’s harder than I expected it to be. But it worked better this time. Do you want to try again?”
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Jane
I like agreement
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Jane
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Ryan
July 28, 2011 3:55 AM
So do I. by Ryan
"You're welcome." Ryan responded. To his way of thinking, she had done quite well...and he knew that he had not. It made sense that she would do better than him and that he might not do so great. Wandless magic was hard and Ryan was only thirteen. Even though transfiguration was his best subject,this was more of a charm than a transfiguration. Still, he couldn't help being extremely disappointed with himself even after Jane's encouragement.He had failed and someone had seen. Ryan couldn't help but be embarassed. When he screwed up-and he always, always did-criticism was sure to come. What Jane must think of him! That Ryan was stupid and incompetent. She was probably just too polite to say it, which he was admittedly grateful for.
Still, the third year could practically hear his mother's and sister's derisive laughter in his ears. It was silly, Ryan knew. They weren't here and in all liklihood, he would never ever have to see his mother or deal with her ever again. She'd end up in legal trouble that way. Possibly go to jail. And even she wouldn't risk scandal,embarassment, and loss of freedom to torment him.
His sister was a different story. In fact, Grandpa had said she wouldn't be surprised if Ryan's mother put Carrie up to taking over torturing Ryan now. The third year disagreed with his grandfather on that point. It might be something his mother would stoop to, but Ryan didn't think it would be necessary to put his sister up to it. She'd do it on her own.
"Good job" Ryan encouraged Jane. He looked back at the train warily. He wasn't sure that he could manage to make it move this time either. The Crotalus was very worried suddenly about failing the lesson. Well, maybe not suddenly as Ryan was always afraid of failure and people laughing at him or getting mad at him or realizing that he was inferior and disliking him because of it but usually in Transfiguration he was more successful than this.
"I guess so." The third year responded. Ryan didn't know what she and Professor Crosby would think of him if he just quit. If he didn't do his work, he would not only fail, but probably get in trouble too. And Ryan hated trouble. Especially in front of others who could laugh at him for it.
He looked back at the train again. If only Ryan could change it into something instead of trying to move it without a wand. Maybe change it into a toy broom or something. It wouldn't matter if he couldn't fly on it if it was just a toy. But that wasn't the assignment and thus Ryan concentrated hard again.
This time it began to move very very slowly but it got farther this time. Not quite as far as Jane's had gone but farther than the barely perceptible half inch as last time.
Ryan smiled. He felt a bit better now, except that his head ached. "It is pretty difficult." He agreed with Jane. It was okay to admit it as she had. And he liked to agree with people. If you agreed with them, there would be no arguing and they wouldn't hate you.
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Ryan
So do I.
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Ryan
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Jane
July 30, 2011 8:58 PM
So we agree on agreeing? by Jane
Jane smiled hollowly when Ryan agreed it was difficult, her own head still feeling a little strange after her success with the train. “I suppose that’s the idea, though,” she said, not wanting to begin again, but knowing she had to. “It’s through hard work that we make ourselves better.” She realized she sounded like she was quoting, which made sense since she was, but wasn’t necessarily the politest thing. “Or so Mother always said.”She had, as she’d gotten older, started to question some of what Mother had always said, but that was one thing Jane agreed about. Being pushed to her limit was the only way to find out where the limit stood, and then to increase it. Maybe Mother’s predictions of how, no matter how intelligent she was, she would lose her edge as she got older, lose more and more of her ability to remember and process quickly, but she was nowhere near that point yet. She still had years left where she could get better, not just try to put off getting worse.
By the end of class, that train was going to move when she wanted it to, and it wasn’t going to stop until she wanted it to. “I’ll take another turn, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I want to see if I can make it stop when I want it to, even if I don’t keep it moving as long as I can.” It was best to master that trick before she began pushing her ability to concentrate on it too far. There had to be some trick to segregating this to only part of her concentration or else moving it to a third stage where attention was only needed to stop rather than maintain the motion, or else the spell would be practically useless, but she could worry at that later.
She got it moving, though at the cost of having to frown hard at it, and once it was clearly going, she began to think of it stopping. Picturing the stop. A cessation of movement...But the back of her mind was still thinking of going forward…
About half the wheels stopped, and about half didn’t, and the train tipped off its track. Jane jumped as it collided with the desk, breaking her focus, and clucked her tongue in irritation when she noticed what had broken it and, at the same time, her own minor setback. Not a failure yet, since the class was nowhere near over, but a setback anyway. She had always, Mother had also said, been too impatient, too eager to get it all right on the first try; many of the tutors had agreed. They seemed to think it indicated a lack of natural discipline. She supposed it could be true, though it was almost funny to think of having to work hard to overcome a natural inclination toward…not working hard but benefiting anyway. “That didn’t go as planned,” she said. “Would you like another try?”
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Jane
So we agree on agreeing?
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Jane
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Ryan
August 08, 2011 4:35 AM
Um, yes. by Ryan
Ryan nodded. His mother had certainly never said anything like that to him. His mother made him feel there was no hope for him ever being better, no matter how hard Ryan worked-and he did work hard, but in some cases, like with flying, his mother was absolutely one hundred percent right.Complete failure was what was expected of Ryan, but yet it wasn't acceptable. It seemed that his mother set him up for an impossible task. To do better than he was capable of. Plus, what he did accomplish was ignored or even belittled.
He wasn't supposed to worry about it anymore. It was supposed to be all over, but yet the damage had been done and Ryan couldn't help but expect to face someone's wrath or derision no matter what he did. That if he didn't do something up to expectations-or above them-people would turn against him. Ryan honestly didn't think Coach Pierce liked him, for example. He couldn't fly and he was an upper class pureblood even though he felt on par with house elves.
"I don't mind at all." The third year replied. Who was he to argue even if he did? Ryan's opinions had never really mattered and he certainly didn't want any conflict. Conflict bothered him, especially as they always seemed to be his fault and then he just felt worse.
Ryan watched as the train tipped over and felt bad for Jane. "I guess I can try again." He placed the train back on the track and concentrated on making it move. Ryan was not yet ready to try and make it stop. It seemed perfectly capable of doing that on it own.
This time it got even farther, about a quarter of the way around the track. Ryan's head was starting to really throb but at least he was making progress.
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Ryan
Um, yes.
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Ryan
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5