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1
Potions / Re: lesson two - memories
« Last post by Ren Al-Sayeed on Today at 07:35 »
The door to the potions classroom was wide open as an arctic draft welcomed the students wandering around the hallway. Flecks of paper flew scattered in the gust that escaped the room as Ren bundled his robes together tighter and walked on in.

Tim stood at the edge of the classroom where his desk once was, sporting a face like he had just conquered the world. The inside of the classroom had once again been transformed into a new landscape. This time, an icy cave, which in retrospect explained the chilling winds escaping out into the hallway. Where the wind came from? Probably magic, Ren reasoned. Tim began the lesson as soon as the last student filed in.

“This room today is a cave in the arctic. Outside, the sun is setting which means it’s going to get progressively colder and colder in here as the lesson wears on. The potion you’re brewing today is a potion that will keep your whole body warm, regulating your body temperature to what it is naturally, as well as providing you with the sensation of warmth. Successfully brewing this potion will mean the cold doesn’t bother you.”

'A potion that allows you to ignore the cold...' Ren had tried his best to search for such a potion for these harsh winter months. Nary was there a time when the boy wouldn't be caught unaware by the chilling winter fronts, or the hospital wing apothecary room needed the temperature dropped for some god-forsaken reason.

A smile came across his face at the thought of learning this wonderful brew. His hand searched for his potions belt, which he took everywhere he went. 'A new regular for the winter months!' His thoughts reflected the grin growing wider as he knew the harsher months of the winter would be coming. Finally, he'd have some way to combat the cold beyond a wimple warming charm.

“Only, you’ll have to brew it from memory. It’s a pretty simple brew with only a few ingredients. Today you will be working on your own."

"Ohh noooo, alone. I guess if you say soooo Professor Tim..."

Relief washed over him in an immense wave. Although he loved Rae to death, he didn't think the death part of their friendship would be so literal. Just the memory of their collaboration brought a soreness to his shins, the unfortunate casualties of Rae's combination potion-making and competitiveness.

This time, he could finally take his time to brew, his way.

Tim flicked his wand and on the stations lined up around the cavern there appeared a recipe. With only ten minutes to memorize, Ren wasted no time hop-skipping over to a station near a wall of the cavern, minimizing his neighbors to only his right side**. He could finally concentrate. Although he'd not brewed many potions in class this term alone, and even less in the first term, the boy had been casting at cauldrons on an almost daily basis in the hospital wing since he started at Hogwarts.

Ingredients? Measured steps? Quarter-stirs counterclockwise seventeen times over? It was the most fun he'd had in a class since he started at the magical school.

He poured over the recipe, smiling at the piece of paper in his hand. He didn't want to study it. He wanted to engrave it in his heart. Had the lesson not been a memory-based one, he would have transcribed it immediately in his own little notebook.

First the ingredients. He read the list, and reread it again. He knew most of these by heart, although some only by name. One by one, his finger traced the lines on the paper ingredient by ingredient. He closed his eyes and imagined them each laid out on the table. Although his station was bare save for the paper, in his minds eye it was filled to the brim with potion ingredients galore.

"A little of this, and a little of that. And now, some of these..."

He muttered quietly to himself, to anyone looking onto him a crazy boy playing pretend kitchen. But his visualizations helped his memory. The engraving process started here. He had moved on from each ingredient to the procedures. The base, the beginning. A wand flick here, a stir there. Only putting a little bit of this, and then later after stirring, putting in the rest.  A conductor amidst his orchestra. The instrumental ingredients playing in harmony, mixing all together in the cauldron audience.

In his heart of heart, as the tempo rose and the harmony of the indredients reached their crescendo, he dropped his wand slowly. The potion was done. Although he'd read the color of the final potion, in his mind he imagined a deep, beautiful red. A red that would have put Godric to shame for the shade that he chose.

"He really should have chosen this shade instead." he whispered, a smirk spread across as his eyes remained closed. "This color is so lovely."

When he opened his eyes, he noticed the time.

'I still have four minutes? Huh,' the boy gave a quick glance around him and smiled once again, looking at the recipe paper. He still had a little more time.

"Then lets do it again." He smiled and began his symphony once more.



(OOC: Feel free to be Ren's only neighbor as he mutters to himself)
2
"Nothing's messed up."

Morgan just looked at Maddox, a blank expression on her face. Tears continued to stream down her face, though, and she felt like she was about to jump out of her skin.

"Nothing will make you stop being my daughter and no one's coming to replace you. This...our Sundays will still be our Sundays...our trips will still be our trips..."

The girl shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest to hug herself. She didn’t believe him. It was much easier to say those things than it was to follow through with them. She clenched her mouth shut, the blank expression turning into one of hurt.

"It just means we have someone new who'll tag along for some things."

“I don’t want him to tag along to anything!” Morgan shouted, sniffling. She shook her head a bit quicker for a moment.

Morgan needed to leave – she needed air – she needed to escape. She didn’t even want to look at him anymore. Or talk to him. She realized she had class with him tomorrow, but was already planning on skipping.

“We don’t need him. I don’t need him,” Morgan spat. She would end up being a free babysitter. Isn’t that what older siblings did?

And babies were stinky, and loud, and needed lots of attention.

“I have to go. I gotta go,” Morgan finally stated, her voice was shaky though. She narrowed her eyes at Maddox one last time, shaking her head, before turning and running off.
3
The Greenhouses / Re: Painting The Roses Red || Parker
« Last post by Ruth Elliot on Today at 06:48 »
One minute, there was silence. The next...

"Aaaahhhhhhh!"

The shrillest of screams sprang from the startled 12-year-old. The greenhouse had become too quiet with her protective earmuffs on. Rae never stood a chance of noticing Parker as he crept up, nor was her mind anywhere close enough to the kind of alertness that would allow her to realise the thing that had fallen into her lap wasn't some plant that had managed to ambush her but a simple glove.

Rae pushed forcefully against the thing, scrambling to her feet. Her screams continued to fill the greenhouse, muffled by her earmuffs.

It must have been a mandrake. Someone must've tipped them off to her plans of replicating the stony structures from transfiguration class. Now...now they'd sent their muscles to take care of her and she would be turned to stone. Her heart would keep beating but she'd remain frozen for Merlin knew how long. The ground in the greenhouse wasn't nearly so soggy and unpleasant but she didn't think she wanted to be stuck there!

It was only when, in her panic, her gaze fell to the ground that she finally realised what had accosted her.

A...glove?

With her heart now pounding and the adrenaline done emptying her brain, Rae slowly turned to find the Hufflepuff boy standing there. Indignant, Rae ripped her earmuffs off.

"What the hell?" she asked breathlessly. Thin arms reached out to shove the boy but she was under no illusion that she would be able to move him even if she did manage to. "You could've killed me! I could've had a heart attack--" Pause. "I forgive you but you have to help me."

Parker was a 7th year. If anyone would be useful for her purposes, it would surely be him.

Rae stuck her hand out, wiggling her fingers in silent invite for him to take her hand. "Come on, we have work to do."
4
Commons & Dorms / Re: Flowers In Her Hair | Rae
« Last post by Ruth Elliot on Today at 05:09 »
"Good choice."

Despite not knowing what she'd picked or having any idea of its implications, Rae beamed over at the girl. Rosie may have tried to insist there was no right or wrong answer when it came to music but the younger Slytherin chose to believe it was nothing more than a platitude and, in fact, she had earned herself some points with her selection.

When the music started, Rae watched Rosie swaying, carefree, and already on her way to being swept away by the melodies. Even Rae felt little goosebumps running along her arms as the song started. It wasn't one she'd ever heard before but it reminded her of summer. Not the polished summers at Camp Loki that had become her experience in the last two years but the other summers on those empty late-night streets, vagabonds with nothing but the faint sound of jazz, Motown, and the blues pouring out onto the streets from the bars and closing cafes.

Rae clung to the unexpected nostalgia, never thinking back then that it would be something she would ever miss.

"I won't." She stopped swaying the moment the brush hit her cheek. "I'm actually really good at not dying and I'm working on being sneakier so I don't have to run into Alli before I'm ready for bed."

Rosie liked night walks. It was another in a growing list of things Rae was learning they had in common. The talk of camp had her reflecting now. In those warm months, while fireflies lit up the grounds and crickets gave their serenades, the two had been at stark odds. The sight of the blonde had been enough to sour Rae's mood just remembering how she chased her or forced her off to bed. Things were different now. It was funny how it was only under the stricter oppression of Hogwarts that they were finally allowed to just...be, and Rae had discovered that she quite liked the girl...

Even if she spoke nonsense. Why would a room suddenly not have air in it just because someone else walked in? That didn't happen. Rae was still breathing just fine all the time. Was that even real? With the way Rosie's eyes were roaming, it sure seemed like she was making it up on the spot.

"Or, they're the person you look for in every face. They're the person you want to talk to the minute something really cool happens, or even something really bad. And when you're with them, you never really want to leave their side. You miss them, instantly."

Oh.

Well, that...was certainly problematic. Concerning even. Rae's brows crinkled in consternation, a clearer picture forming in her mind than she would ever admit.

"Is there somebody you think you like?"

She pointed silently at the red lipgloss, buying herself some time while she considered her answer. Was there someone she thought she liked?--Was it something she'd ever allow herself to say? The latter question weighed more heavily than the prior. She knew the answer to both but she wasn't so sure how she felt about it.

Delaying her response further, Rae wrinkled her nose at Rosie's whispered question. "Ew. I heard he's licking all the girls. I'd punch anyone who tried doing that to me." Gross boy that he was. This term had been a rollercoaster of people talking about tongues and mouths and licking--even among the professors. While she didn't know what had sparked this epidemic, Rae knew she wanted nothing to do with it. "Don't let him lick you, Rosie. I've heard horror stories about where his tongue's been."

She cringed at the reminder and hoped for a second time that her friend wouldn't get herself caught in such a mess.

"But, no. It's not Steve," she said, realising only seconds later that such a response indicated there was someone. Pivoting quickly, she turned her inquisitive gaze onto the girl. "You said it's new to you. Does that mean you like someone, too? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Quid pro quo; it would certainly make it feel more like a transaction than whatever vulnerability the girl was working so hard to ignore.
5
Chin in hand, he tapped one long finger against his cheekbone as he watched Ephraim cross the room.

The hands that landed flat on the tabletop were quietly insistent, and as such Caius looked at them, and at the wristlet Ephraim wore there. Eyes tracking up, his wand spotlighted on Ephraim's face, and Caius' head bobbed briefly as he reached up quickly to pull his wand down.

"Nox," he muttered, and the light went out. "Sorry."

Placing his wand crossways over his homework, Caius leaned down and shoved the parcel aside to get at his bag and pulled it to himself. He spent a moment riffling through it before he pulled out a likely looking notebook, neatly labeled E. PROTHERO in one of the lower corners.

Straightening, he rested his elbows on the table again and leaned against a hand, casually holding the notebook out.

Eyebrows raised, he gave it a little wiggle, encouraging Ephraim to take it.

"Your notes are well organized," Caius remarked. "Very helpful."
6
Receiving the note from Vlad, and found himself blinking, adjusting to the color before him. His eyes narrowed a moment, he pursed his lips, yet still kept his attention on Professor Thatch. While taking notes, he gave the question more thought he might have, eyebrow quirked as he posited it. The blonde-haired kid had never had such a question to him and never considered it. With his attention momentarily diverted, he hastily answered.

Quote
So, I want to make sure you have more than just books on your Christmas list. Do you want a broomstick? 

Sure, I suppose. Is there anything you’d like?

It seemed like a reasonable enough answer, given the environment. His attention moved to the answers that had been given. Charly’s answer sounded interesting, in that it seemed to come from an off-the-cuff way of thinking. While Liam preferred forethought and levelheadedness, sometimes a bit of spontaneity was valuable. Eryon’s answer was interesting, so much so that when he appeared to finish, Liam looked toward him with his seemingly trademark querying brow. Meanwhile, Vlad's answer, though straightforward had held value in its answer.     

"Right then! Enough talking. Let’s see some magic. Everyone wands out!"

“A shield o’ darkness…” muttered Liam as he stood up and gave himself some room. He paused to look over his notes a couple of times, contemplating what it was he was about to do. He cast a glance toward Ren who appeared to have an easy time of it and watched it manifest, paying careful attention to everything about it. 

A second glance made its way to Eryon, studying his Housemate’s progress. After the third time, he watched as it appeared to manifest, but for a little bit and then dissipated. In all of this, he watched everything from the beginning to the end. It wasn’t much, but it was progress, and that was nothing to scoff at. He gave his Housemate a congratulatory nod, took out his wand, and went still and silent. After several seconds he brought his wand before him, almost stabbing the air as he did so. 

Conjura Umbra!”    

Whether it was the forcefulness of his words or the etheric stabbing to prove a point, a flowing black mist spread outward from his wand and began to envelop him. Curious he reach his hand out to feel of it and found it cool to the touch. Glancing down at his hand and nodding to himself, he watched as it continued to swirl in a smoke-like fashion, obscuring his form from view.

Something about it was strangely familiar, almost like a memory passed down. Whatever the feeling he had, the experience was strangely surreal.


7
The transfiguration field trip was the best news the boy had gotten all winter. There were only so many conclusions he could draw from the requests Professor Amberghast made of them. Dress warmly? Class is at two in the morning? Nothing would light up the boy's eyes more than escaping this winter-filled apocalyptic castle to a place with actual sun. The lack of vitamin D was killing him at this point.

His journey up the south tower, however, was not well thought out. In all his excitement, he had forgotten to cast a warming charm or even bring some kind of outer wear on his journey from the common room to the south tower. Passing prefect after prefect on patrol, his self-cousious self just buried his head in the thin summer shirt he regretted bringing as  a quick, "G...g...go...ing to cl...cla...ss!" was all he could muster through the shivers.

Finally at the door, the boy rushed in hoping some sort of heating charm would be in place to save his poor toes from falling off. Although the blushing resulting from seeing Professor Amberghast in all her summer glory would certainly help, it couldn't overcome the massive frostbite he (incorrectly) assumed was coming. He reached out to the oar, giving a quick nod to the Dueling Club professor he often played referree for.

Why he was there? Ren had no idea. But he was too cold to bother asking.



The landing in the sand was much more preferable than the basement.

The call of the seagull as Ren laid in the sand before opening his eyes was as refreshing as the sun warming up his still frozen appendages. The professor's warning at looking at the waves fell on deaf ears, as the boy turned around, still laid down on the sand, and opened his eyes to the waves. The water rolling onto the sand was as cathardic as could be.

"The blankets are big enough for three people, no more. Arrange them around that stone circle so we can all see each other."

The boy rolled over once more to the direction that his professors sauntered over to. Laying on this sand was his everything. His sweet siren calling him to doom, more like it. The effort it took for the boy to stand up was tantamount to climbing Mt. Olympus. 'And yet...I must,' he relented and lifted himself on all fours before leaning back his torso. He splattered back to the sand, gravity propelling him into the mattress of the earth. And then he got up once again, muffled sand-groans escaping as he pressed forward and upwards.

"Rae, over here!" He waved to his best friend, as she walked along the beach lines. He sat on the blanket adjacent to the professors, right in the middle of it. He patted down the side opposite the professors as the space saved for his friend, as he listened to the introduction of the muggle studies professor. And then came the question. 

"Which factors can make Transfiguration more difficult?"

"Well," Ren started, looking directly next to him at the professor who made this beach trip possible, "if you consider Gamp's law, it seems that some materials have magical properties that make it less transfi...gur...a...ble? Is that a word...? Uh, well, so I guess if a material has some resistance to magic, or maybe if the caster has no idea about the material being transfigured at all. Like whatever material the stone lady was made out of."
8
Commons & Dorms / Re: Flowers In Her Hair | Rae
« Last post by Rosalie Laurence on Today at 03:56 »
"Good choice," she said, stashing away the other two cassettes and popping Earth, Wind and Fire into the boombox. 'Keep Your Head to the Sky' began playing and she swayed and bopped back and forth to the beat as clamped the eyeshadow closed.

She picked up the small compact of plush and clicked the button. She laughed and shook her head as she dipped a larger brush into the coral-colored powder. "I'll still do things I like, even on patrols. I love walks at night, and I get to talk to my friends," she smiled at Rae, swiping the powder on one cheek and blending up and out. "Alli's not bad at all; she's just an even bigger stickler for the rules than I am."

She dipped and moved the brush to Rae's other cheek. "But I promise, as long as you're not getting yourself killed, I won't be your problem." She winked at Rae and swiped, up and out again.

"How do you know you like somebody?"

Oh! Rosie's eyes softened and her smile tightened a little but she sat back and looked at the girl curiously for a moment. "Well," she started slowly, "it's all sort of new to me too. But, when you like someone, it sort of feels like all the air goes out of the room when they walk in, you know?" She looked off to the side for a moment thinking. "Or, they're the person you look for in every face. They're the person you want to talk to the minute something really cool happens, or even something really bad. And when you're with them, you never really want to leave their side. You miss them, instantly."

Rosie's eyes moved back to Rae and she tilted her head to the side a bit. "Is there somebody you think you like?" She closed the compact and held up two lip glosses for her to pick from - one red and one plum.

She watched the younger Slytherin for a moment, marveling at how pretty those big brown eyes were, and whoever it was that she had them on was a lucky boy. Who could resist that cheeky smile and all those curls? "Don't tell me Steve. He's too old for you." She leaned in a little and whispered, "And I hear he's a really gross kisser."
9
The Quidditch Pitch / Re: I Fall Apart | Ruth Anaya Elliot
« Last post by Ruth Elliot on Today at 03:45 »
They were nice words, the sort that could make her insides squirm and flood her with uncomfortable warmth she preferred to ignore. As they fell from his lips, Rae could already feel a part of her grow eager to believe. Who didn't want to hear that they might mean something special to someone they cared so much about? Who didn't want to be told that their seat at the table was a little higher than most? She would only be a dirty liar if she said it didn't make her feel better.

But.

"You did say that before," Rae mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She picked at the blades of grass that had come loose, plucking them from her fist one by one and tossing them back to the earth from which they came. "You've said it twice." After two big fights that had shaken her sense of security in them remaining friends. "Then you said we weren't friends, that it would only hurt and you told the duelling block that we kissed...like you wanted it to hurt." Rae didn't care that others found out she and Benji had kissed at camp. It was nothing to her whether people spent their time whispering about it or brushed it off and moved on. Neither outcome affected the way it had felt to her.

It was the way he'd said it...the intent behind the exposure. For the first since they'd become friends, Rae truly felt like Benji Cuddrun was trying to hurt and humiliate her. She could feel what she'd thought to be hate and that was what had hurt.

"You'd never been like that before, even when we screamed. It made it harder to believe that and then," she paused when a swell of emotion suddenly flooded her chest, the heaviness returning as if it were all happening again. "And then you'd been so nice to everyone else, to her," She sniffed, willing herself not to descend into fresh tears, "like you wanted me to know everyone else was fine--that...that it was...just me...like if I were different, you'd be that nice to me again." It was more than her pride would let her stomach.

Why should she change for the boy who didn't want her? Why should she do what he wanted and go grovelling? Certainly not, she'd thought. Hurting was easier than bending.

Except...it wasn't.

The little girl had no intention of looking at him again, not until she was better able to calm herself but suddenly her chin was forced upward and brown returned to hazel. There he went doing it again, in a way only he could. Benji had the terrifying ability to make her forget things every past experienced had taught her she was better off remembering. Much like he'd done the other times, his words painted the picture of the pair together, inseparable, one fractured soul split into two bodies understanding and accepting. When he got like that, it felt like no fight could ever be big enough--like they could conquer the world without ever being stomped out by it. If they were both bad and both knew it then there was nothing left to hide away from.

"You're stuck with me."

Rae buried her face in his neck again, biting back a sob that would only set her off again. "You have to mean it this time. You can't...it hurts too much when you keep running." And while she believed him now, it was the sort of trust that could be whittled away after enough disappearing acts.

She dropped the blades of grass to wrap her other arm around him now, encasing him in a hug like the one from before.

"I'll break your leg so you can't run the next time we argue," she said, her attempt at lightening what was becoming a heavy conversation.

She probably meant it, too.
10
Everywhere Else / Re: consecution | kate
« Last post by Caius Ellwood-Luxe on Today at 03:34 »
"I don't like you anymore."

"Ah, well, good. Glad that's settled, I'll just--"

"I wouldn't ask if I did. I wouldn't put you in that situation."

Caius had made the mistake of underestimating Katherine Dankworth before.

It was always a gamble with her. She set her dominoes carefully these days, and he thought he could see-- just for a second-- a flash of the moment she intended to send them toppling.

But Caius wasn't a fool, either. A pragmatist at heart, he could recognize a worthwhile opportunity when he saw one: it was more a question whether he wanted to bother. He knew that youth was fleeting, and that he ought to use it-- at least partially-- to gain certain skills that wouldn't be taught in class. Before the summertime, he'd mostly shirked the opportunities if they arose.

Rocío had changed things. She'd opened a door, and he'd stepped through almost impulsively. It had quickly become clear that her interest was proprietary, however, and that had been that, in a manner of speaking-- of course, she'd spent the majority of the term up to now sleeping in his bed with him.

It wasn't anybody else's business.

But it had highlighted to him a lack in his own landscape of experience: he would be seventeen in January, and that was his singular encounter with a girl.

She advanced, and Caius froze.

"Oh, come on," she said to him, and a chill ran through him as she grabbed at his shirt. "You have already kissed me, are you really asking me that?"

Her proximity forced into his mind the same sensations that had come with the kiss at the party: a rushing, darkly pinpointed. A pressure in the belly. Vaguely, the awareness of hands in his hair; and then, his eyes slid shut.

She kissed him.

When she pulled away, Caius stared down at her, jaw set.

He lifted a finger as if to tell her off, but stopped short, annoyance simmering. After a moment, it dropped.

"Fine," he hissed. "Name your terms."

If only for academic purposes.
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