Beginners classes, in the beginning, were often hectic. The second years were anxious to get back to magic, as a rule, but as often as not had lost half the progress they had made the year before. The first years, at the same time, were just learning to gain some control of their abilities, and were often a mixed bag in other ways as well: mostly eager to learn magic, but there was always the possibility of one who was frightened of it, or Muggleborns who had had a shock, upon learning what they were, or of children who took homesick and had their emotions wreak havoc on their talent...
The first few weeks were fearsome as much for what he couldn't see coming as what he could, which, it occurred to Gray, really could be a description of life more generally.
This year had several challenges beyond the ones that happened every year, but they had made it through September without major injury, and with more or less everyone learning the basic wand movements and doing the worksheets to prove that they understood how important it was to pronounce things correctly. It was, therefore, time to let them begin the real work.
“Hello, everyone,” he greeted them. “Is everyone ready to make objects fly?”
This was an important day in the lives of young wizards, and he had made an effort to dangle it in front of the first years over the past few weeks, using old skills for spacing out events and building to suspense as best he could as they studied the theory, learned to light the ends of their wands as an introductory measure, and practiced wand movements over and over again.
“Second years, today you'll work with these cushions – they weight about a pound each – and you will make them descend and rise in the air with the movement of your wand after you levitate them, all this with the spell you already know. It takes a lot of concentration, which is why you’re using cushions.” Even if they dropped the cushions directly over their own heads, they shouldn’t be injured enough to require medical attention, which was about as much as was typically asked of teachers here when it came to safety. How, after all, could much more be asked without asking them to actually abstain from teaching magic?
“First years – today is your welcome to the world of breaking physics,” he said, as he did to each new crop of first years. He was rather proud of that line. “Each of you will receive a new quill from this box," he explained, holding up the box in question. “Your task for this lesson is to perform the swish and flick wand movements, one after the other, like this - " he demonstrated with his own wand - "with the incantation Wingardium Leviosa. Once you have the hang of it, the feather will rise up about five feet in the air and hover for you.
“As always, you may take several tries to get the hang of it – this is true for both years – and don’t get discouraged if you don’t master it today. Just the same, I will be watching to make sure you’re working,” he added, lest anyone get any ideas. "Everyone should also read chapter three of your textbook before our next class, if you haven't already, and start thinking about whether you think a flying object like those you're working with in class counts as an enchanted object. You may also discuss this between yourselves today. It may help you next class if you have an opinion about that and can defend it," he said, essentially dropping the guise that he was merely suggesting something that would not be of real use to them.
"If there are no questions now, you may begin."
OOC: Welcome to Beginner Charms! This lesson takes place several weeks into the year, so your character has some knowledge of a few simple charms and some Charms theory; it’s not their first time holding a wand or meeting Professor Wright. All posting rules apply. If you have questions IC, tag Professor Wright; if you have them OOC, ask on the OOC board or catch me (usually as Tatiana) in Chatzy. And, last but not least, have fun!
Subthreads:
But it would be such fun by Theo Spurn with Freddie Zauberhexen
I prefer my feet formally on the ground, thank you very much. by Jezebel Reed-Fischer
Sonora had many nice things. Theo had acquired a blanket fort buddy and a relatively steady stream of hug sources. It had many of the things he liked having at home. The trouble was, he had already had a perfectly good set of those and now, even if he found substitutes, he missed the originals. But that was how it was. He liked doing magic for real, and meeting fuzzy creatures, and he didn't want to just go home and never see Jo or Josie or Anya or Professor Brooding-Hawthorne-Potions (you had to subcategorise because there were two of them) again. He just wished he could go home sometime sooner than Christmas, which still felt very far away.
Still, he took a seat in charms. Professor Wright had been telling them that they would fly things 'soon' but had a very adult definition of that word. Theo had practised the wand movements but it wasn't like he hadn't done those dozens of times with sticks growing up. He had filled out the worksheets with occasional tangents about other words or phrases that he just found interesting. Like 'crepulscular.' You oughtn't say it wrong because it was so very pleasing and rustly when you said it correctly. Words were odd in that ones which, if they had been physical textures, would have been all wrong (like crepe paper) could still feel nice in your ears. Mellifluous was another - it was somewhat flowing but might have been sticky given its connotations of honey but it was still nice to hear. Theo knew these remarks were not particularly related to the assignments set but the actual answers were boring and Professor Wright would have to read them all again and again, and maybe everyone would be happier if they had some nice thoughts about other words and their textures to ponder on. He had put the real answers too, most of the time, because he was not stupid, merely whimsical/bored.
"Yes!" he cheered quietly when Professor Wright asked if they were ready to make things fly. It was half exclamation of joy, half answer to the no doubt rhetorical question. But mostly the first one. Theo jigged excitedly in his seat. He ran his hand over a few of the quills, choosing one of the fluffier ones, and placed it on his desk, stroking it happily.
"This makes sense," he declared, mostly to the quill, "You used to fly around when you were on a bird and now you get to do it again," he smiled. Hopefully the quill would be happy about that and thus be co-operative.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he cast, trying to bring together all the things they had learnt and all the things he just knew and... and it sort of felt like it always had. Except it always been with a stick and just pretending. So that really was not desirable or effective.
Freddie really liked Charms a lot. It was cool because something basically always happened. It wasn't always reliable - like when he had sliced open his hand the previous year - but the nice thing about magic was that many of those effects weren't permanent either. He took to magic with the same philosophy as he took to learning a new language - just keep doing it until all your mistakes started lining up and making sense and not being mistakes anymore. So what if he got all the words in the wrong order, if they got the point across? Similarly, who cared if he could only get stuff to work out half the time and if he'd managed to fly all the fluffy parts of the feather off the stick part of the feather, essentially ripping it to shreds on one of his first attempts? Today he got a cushion, which was basically just a bag of feathers, so this shouldn't be that much more difficult. He wondered what would happen if he just focused on making one feather inside the cushion fly? Would it be strong enough to carry the rest of the cushion around?
As it turned out, he was about as excited as the boy sitting next to him, so he naturally turned to work with him. Freddie knew he was a first year because he hadn't seen him the year before and because he had a feather, but Freddie rarely paid much attention to names so he wasn't too worried about who the boy was beyond that. Freddie heard the boy talking to his feather and he thought that it all made sense from what he caught of it. Feathers were really designed for flight anyway, so maybe the feather would actually be easier than a cushion. Cushions were meant for being under butts.
"Hey, wanna work together?" Freddie asked. 'Wanna' was one of his favorite English words, so he used it all the time. He wasn't really sure how it was spelled because he was pretty sure people just said it and didn't write it, but that was part of why it was great. Like everyone was trying to keep a secret away from books. "Wingardium Leviosa," he mimicked, aiming at his cushion. As if it were being pinched by unseen fingers, one part of the fabric lifted up, hoisting the rest of the cushion in the air a few inches before it dropped again. That made sense; holding an entire one pound cushion (which was not the money, he had found out) by just pinching some fabric would be pretty tough, even for the essence of magical energy. "I am not sehr gut at Charms."
22Freddie ZauberhexenI'm not opposed to testing it out later. 145205
I prefer my feet formally on the ground, thank you very much.
by Jezebel Reed-Fischer
Jezebel enjoyed Charms class but it also hurt her brain. It hurt her brain less than Transfiguration, but it was still one of the most obvious examples of how different this world was than the one she'd grown up in and how different she was to the people she'd grown up with. Also, it was just really hard. Preparation and studying only got you so far when it was the practical application that mattered. She was pretty okay at the practical part - she'd heard that some wizards and witches never got very good at it - but she wasn't sure exactly how she did it. She just . . . said words and willed stuff to happen. That was insanity.
She had found that her second year was thus far going better than her first. In many ways, year one had merely been prep for year two. She supposed that was how any schooling experience went to some extent, but it was nice to have that solidified here. Plus, she now had something to offer other people. She could help. If she didn't help, she could just focus on herself. She sort of liked the second option better, even if she knew her mom and dad would prefer she pursued the first option.
As Professor Wright talked, she wondered whether she was allowed to do this between classes, or get some special dispensation to do so. Her book bag was notoriously stuffed full of too many things and too many bookks and too many notes from classes, where she usually wrote down not only what was going on, but also sometimes took notes on who seemed to be getting it. She wanted to know who might be a good person to ask for their notes later, or else ask to study together for tests. It was best to be prepared, and she was not under any illusion that she could do so on her own.
Making a counterproductive note in the corner of her paper to ask whether she would be allowed to use this spell, or else get a lightening charm put on her bag, for between classes, Jezebel turned to see who was going to sit beside her. Since they almost always talked to her anyway, she thought it might be best to preempt them and make a good impression by doing so first. Plus if it was a first year, then she'd be able to put them at ease and that was beneficial too. And nice of course.
"Hiya," Jezebel said. "How do you feel about this charm? Do you think it's much different for the feathers and the cushions?"
22Jezebel Reed-FischerI prefer my feet formally on the ground, thank you very much. 145405