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(Créteil, France) Talking With Neville
Author: Ginny Weasley
Date: 03-14-09 17:42
"You all right, Ginny?"
Startled, Ginny looks up from the French newspaper she's been painstakingly translating, a well used English-French dictionary and a "Teach Yourself French" textbook both within easy reach.
"Yes, I'm fine, Neville. How's your gran?" Ginny asks both to get the topic off of her and because she really is interested in how Neville's grandmother is doing.
"She's good. Excellent really. Corfu agrees with her; with all our family we were able to convince to temporarily relocate. She, that is they, are homesick though."
"That's easy to understand. I think we're all a bit homesick at this juncture."
Neville settles into one of the table's other chairs. He blushes a little when he says, "Gran said she's proud of me. Said it in front of everyone."
"And well she should be! You've been tremendous, Neville."
"Sometimes I feel like I've truly made a contribution, but other times I... I don't know."
With a smile and a nod Ginny says, "I know exactly what you mean."
"You do? But you're always in the thick of things."
"Not always and sometimes only because I've pushed and bullied my way in. Despite having proven myself to them over and over Mum, Dad, and my six brothers would much prefer if I were somewhere far enough doing nothing more dangerous than twiddling my thumbs."
Neville points with his chin to one of Ginny's hands, "Speaking of thumbs, how is yours?"
Ginny holds her hand out for Neville to see. There's a long, puckered cut that's healing well. "Stiff and still a little sore but otherwise fine. It looks as though I might have a nifty scar."
"Nearly losing a thumb could make for a scar but I'm not sure if that's nifty," Neville chuckles.
Ginny wiggles the thumb in question. "This is just another example of why the family thinks I should be elsewhere. Ron got a crushed foot and his eye almost gouged out, Dad has lacerations on his face and arms, Fred cracked his tailbone from being thrown against a wall and is lucky he didn't get his back broken, but I'm the one who should sit idly by. I didn't nearly lose the thumb. Not really. It looked nastier than it actually was."
"This is going to sound strange and I don't mean it at all sarcastically, but I'm sorry I missed being there."
"You couldn't go back on a promise to your gran to visit for a few days. Besides, there will be other prison communities to raid."
"It would help if we knew exactly how many more."
"Wouldn't it though? It's so inconvenient that Bitch Supreme hasn't published a list," Ginny grins.
"Isn't it though? Maybe she's been meaning to but is so short handed around the place that she's just not gotten around to it yet. Maybe we should volunteer to do it for her."
Neville grabs a pencil and a sheet of the parchment Ginny has been using to help scribbling things on while working on translating the French newspaper. "Let's start with the ones no longer in operation. What was the name of that one just liberated?"
"The one from two days ago or the one where Harry was?"
"Harry was at one called Community Q, wasn't he?"
"Yes, and the one from two days ago was Troglodyte."
"Troglodyte? Seriously?"
Hermione's voice joins the conversation. "Fitting really. The central part of the prison was a series of caves along some cliffs. A trogolodyte is a cave dweller."
Neville grins. "You're always so brilliant, Hermione."
Hermione grins right back and flips her hair, "Yes, I rather am, aren't I?" Hermione gestures vaguely in the direction of the front door. "Some of us were thinking of trying that new place that serves American style burgers. Want to come?"
"Sure," Neville says as Ginny says, "Love to."
Quickly tidying up the table, Neville and Ginny follow Hermione out of the room and down the hall where others are starting to congregate. In under a minute the group is out the door, walking the few blocks to the new restaurant.
Professor Snider
Author: Analeigh Ivy
Date: 03-14-09 21:01
I entered the large office of the headmistress of Hogwarts, Harriet Snider. I couldn't see her at first due to the fact that there were a ton of books around the desk, but when I passed the tower of the books, I saw the plump woman she was.
I gave her my best smile as I walked up to her desk. She sat in her seat, looking down at her book, not even noticing my entrance. Her eyes scanned the book quickly to my surprise. As the woman sat there, I analyzed her more and more. I wanted to laugh at the site of her, but I bit my tongue. It was rude to laugh at people's flaws, plus I was being interviewed by her to work here. But, it was also hard not to laugh at the catipillar on her face above her upper lip. I smiled a little and then bit my tongue again.
I took in a huge breath and looked at the woman again. She had yet to look up from her book. I finally coughed into my hand to get her attention. She looked up at me. "Sorry." I said waving it off. "I've been having a cough recently."
She sighed as she put a book mark in her book and closed it. She looked at the desk for a few seconds and then looked up at me. I gave her a small smile which was not returned.
"Hi. I'm Analeigh Ivy." I said, deciding I should try to start a conversation. "I talked to you about being a student professor here at Hogwarts."
"Oh, yes. I remember now." she said as if she had forgotten me, which wasn't hard to believe. I nodded. "Yes. I was a former student at Hogwarts."
"Well, before we can give you the job, I must look at your school records." she said. She got up and walked over to some of the shelves. She scanned them quickly and pulled one of the folders from the shelf. She opened it and flipped through a few of the papers.
"What year did you graduate?" she asked. I totally spaced for a minute. I couldn't think straight. So, I said the first thing that came to my mind. "The same year as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."
I knew there were many other people in our year, but these two hated eachother. By the looks of it, the lady knew what year that was, but who wouldn't?
She looked up at me and sighed. "Slytherin. Full blood." she muttered. "It looks like you have a good chance of being hired."
I smiled to myself. "But, let me tell you this." she said. "If you help with that little thing they are doing for the nons, you will be fired. Is that clear?"
I nodded, a little scared. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you helping with it now?" I shook my head no, unable to speak. She shifted from one foot to the other and lifted her chin up. "The first week you will be analyzed by the professors. If they do not like what they see, you cannot have the job. Truthfully, Hogwarts has never had a student professor, but if this works out, we may have to make a few changes."
I smiled to myself. "Don't worry. I won't let you down." I said. She sat down in her chair. "I hope so."
She opened her book again and removed the book mark. I took this as my cue to leave so I did, walking defiantly out of her office. If I could do this, I'd be the first student professor! I smiled to myself. This was what I've always dreamt of!
Centralized Lists
Author: Charlie Weasley
Date: 03-15-09 11:30
Percy walks over to where Charlie's bent over a table. "You have the list from, what was it? Troglodyte?"
"Yes, had it just a second ago," Charlie replies, shifting through some of the parchment spread in front of him.
Percy takes the sheet of parchment Charlie holds up and scans it. "This is everyone?"
"The survivors, yes. We're still working on getting names of those who didn't make it."
"Didn't make the escape or in general?"
"Sorry, both. Those who are capable have been giving the names of those who were alive the day we raided the prison but who aren't accounted for now. Of those we got out but who have since died, they've identified them for us. A list is also being put together of those who died before the rescue while in the prison."
Percy's listening but is already across the room at the desk he's taken over. He's taken over a project that some of the Order has been meaning to do but hadn't yet done properly. The organizing of all the lists of survivors from the prisons liberated to date and of those who died while in them is perfect for Percy.
Percy is coordinating with several news agencies in various countries to print the lists. Coded messages with the lists will also go in British publications such as The Daily Prophet. The names will be read out in batches on the twins' illicit wireless broadcasts.
In addition to giving the names, locations on where to contact the survivors will be given. Percy has also coordinated with a number of countries to have locations available for people to go in person to find out where loved ones on the lists are now located. None of the places for checking are on British soil plus additional safety measures have been taken to ensure those who show up in person won't be targets for the British Ministry if they return to Great Britain.
Personally, Charlie thinks Percy having such a project is what he needs. Since escaping prison 14-15-14, Percy has worn a haunted expression and Penny says he sleep very little. The first real healthy spark Percy has shown since being able to rejoin the family was the day he sat down to write a list of those he knew to have been at 14-15-14 and someone mentioned they had other lists and that they'd been meaning to make some sort of centralized list and figure out a way for people in Britain to know that family and friends are all right or have died. Hearing this, Percy had immediately volunteered to take on the project.
Charlie can't speak for anyone else but as far as he can tell, whatever happened at 14-15-14 is eating away at Percy. This project has helped stopped that, at least for now. Maybe by the time all this is over, Percy will be willing to talk to someone, a professional, who can help him come to terms with whatever demons remain.
For now, there are the lists to coordinate.
Schiltach, Germany
Author: Ronan Eastwick
Date: 03-15-09 12:14
Schiltach was a small German town in the Black Forest on the river Kinzig. After a few more days in Istanbul, Enid and Ronan left the Youngham household for Schiltach and settled in an isolated cottage in the woods where, Ronan soon learned, Enid had lived immediately following the death of her husband. The cottage had remained Enid's all along, and though dusty upon her return, soon felt like home again.
Ronan wasn't sure what to make of the place that had housed his mother when he'd not known where she was or what had become of her. It was small and cozy but at the same time seemed like a wretched dwelling. He imagined her there after the murder of his father. He imagined her there waiting for the day that Caden became what had ultimately led to his own death. The cottage seemed like a place where evil plans were made and were evil-doers bided their time. Still, he would rather be there than back at Happy Haven or some other community for nons.
Schiltach was mostly Muggle but there were a few other wizards living in the woods. They all knew Enid and welcomed her back to the town with open arms. Obviously they didn't know her the way Ronan did or they did and didn't care. Maybe they were just like her. Ronan tried not to let his mind wander when it came to judging the characteristics of strangers but he really couldn't help but question anyone who knew his mother––especially during the time when she was plotting Caden's (short-lived) future.
He spent his days exploring the small town, though there really wasn't much to see. Probably the most interesting landmark was a castle ruin on a small mountain peak. Ronan had visited it more than once already and would probably hike up to it several more times during the course of his stay in Schiltach.
The castle was a Muggle landmark, having been built before 1250 by the Duchy of Teck. In its heyday, it kept watch over an arm of the Kinzig River, Schiltach Creek, along with neighboring castles Klingenburg and Burg Schilteck. In the late 1300s, the counts of Württemburg bought the castle from an heir of the previous owners. The castle housed troops in the early to mid 1700s and was later stripped of reusable material, both on the order of the current duke (since the castle was no longer in use and material like wood could be used elsewhere) and because a fire destroyed most of the town (and the townspeople wanted to rebuild out of stone).
As a result, a few freestanding walls remained of the castle but not much else. Nonetheless, it was a nice site to visit and an enjoyable hike to make. Ronan liked to stretch his legs and to be out on his own, though he did feel lonely at times. He wished he could visit the castle with somebody else, like Urania or Illyria or even his own mother. Enid didn't do much of anything, it seemed, except for bustle about the cottage or visit with her wizarding friends in town. Sometimes Ronan felt like she was up to something again, but he had no idea what or if he was just allowing his imagination to run wild.
Instead of visiting the castle once more, Ronan decided to walk around town today. He looked into the windows of the stores he passed––a baker with plaited bread, pretzels, and rolls with fine black kernels on them; a butcher with sausages and sliced meats of varying kinds; a clothing store with mannequins showing off the latest German style––but didn't go inside of any of them. He didn't speak a word of German and wasn't sure how well any of the storeowners spoke English. Enid had given him some Euros, though, just in case he found something he wanted to buy.
The next store Ronan passed caught his attention. It was a bookstore, and in the window was an average sized book with a long title. Ronan guessed it was about the town of Schiltach since that was one of the words in the title, but the image on the front cover wasn't of the castle or some other scene from the town. It looked like a page from a manuscript, with text printed in an old style (in German of course––or so Ronan figured) and an image drawn by hand of a woman burning on a stake and a man stoking the flames around her with a two-pronged pitchfork or similar tool. Ronan wasn't sure why the book cover drew his attention, and he found himself walking into the bookstore and addressing the clerk at the counter.
"Excuse me. Do you speak English?"
"A little," the woman answered.
"There's a book in the window..." But then he saw another one on a shelf behind the woman. "That one there. What is it about?"
She turned behind her and spotted the book in question. "It has to do with our town history," she explained in slow, heavily accented English. "A woman was thought to be a witch and burned in 1533."
Ronan wondered if the woman really had been a witch or if the Muggles had burned one of their own.
"You wouldn't happen to have a copy of it in English, would you?"
"I'm sorry, no. I'm not sure it is available in English."
"Oh, well thanks then." Ronan started to go when he saw a postcard rack in the room. One of the postcards available for purchase was the same image from the book cover, the one from the manuscript documenting the woman's crimes. He bought one and then decided to head back to the cottage. Maybe Enid knew something about the woman's story.
(Rivalen) Student Teaches the Teacher
Author: Isolde
Date: 03-15-09 13:10
"Why do you suppose they call it Witches' Butter?" Rivalen muttered to himself, though indeed he was in the middle of a lecture on the subject and the entire class of third years had their eyes upon him.
"It doesn't exactly look like butter, does it?" he went on, mostly to himself and not the class at large. "It looks like a cluster of slimey deflated yellow balloons, if anything––or the fingers of latex gloves, perhaps. Butter, I just don't see."
"Professor!"
Rivalen looked up from the rotted log he held in his hands on which grew the Witches' Butter and saw Daniel Gelson waving his hand in the air.
"Yes, David?"
"It's Daniel, sir."
"Yes, yes, quite right Daniel. You have a question, then?"
"A theory, really," Daniel replied, lowering his hand. "I know it doesn't exactly look like butter, but it's yellow in color just like butter and it is edible, according to the readings anyway. So maybe it's called Witches' Butter because you can eat it. Also, I read that it doesn't really have much of a flavor so I think it's more of a texture thing and not so much the main course. You know, like you wouldn't decide to sit down and eat a stick of butter if you were hungry, but you would cook with it or whatever and add to your meal."
Rivalen looked dumbfounded.
He looked from Daniel to the Witches' Butter and back. "Why do you suppose it's also called jelly fungus? It doesn't look like jelly either."
Some of the third years were hard-pressed to conceal the giggles.
Daniel gave his teacher's question some thought and answered, "I don't think it's meant to compare to jelly in the marmelade and jam variety but to gelatin. You did say it looks a bit slimey. I know gelatin's not exactly slimey but I guess I can see a similarity between the two."
Rivalen nodded slowly as he studied the Witches' Butter more closely. "I do believe you are right, David."
"Daniel."
"Right. Erm, ten points for your... ah, clarification on the subject at hand." Rivalen looked up and addressed the class at large, "Now, if there aren't any more questions, class is dismissed!"
Return To School
Author: Plum
Date: 03-15-09 13:18
Plum looks down at her course schedule, checks the room number again then glances up at the numbers denoting each classroom as she walks by. Reaching her destination, she enters, eyes already casting about to see if there are any familiar faces and what seats look the most appealing.
A hand waving catches her eye and Plum smiles at the sight of Kordelia Reese-Emerson. Taking one of the empty desks next to Kordelia, Plum says, "I didn't know you were interested enough in linguistics to take a course at this level."
"I caught the bug not long after I started here. I can't think of why I never mentioned it. I knew you had a strong background in languages thanks to your mum."
Plum grins, "I"m just glad to finally be in a class with someone I know. Four other of my classes met today and I didn't remember anyone from any of them."
"Do you think you might have had classes with some of them before and it's just been long enough that you didn't recognize them?"
"It's possible. I hope so. With enrollment here so much smaller than it once was, and it was never huge to begin with what with the school being new, I just thought I'd be returning to lots of faces I know even if I was never friends with many of them."
"It's more reassuring that way. I remember how nervous I was when I was starting here and how relieved I was when I'd run into someone I had known from Durmstrang, even if that person hadn't been one of my friends."
Kordelia and Plum talk until the professor enters the room. She's an older woman who looks nothing like the Jerome Witherinton listed as the teacher. Even though she's not attending St. Emrys in awhile, Plum had thought she pretty much knew the names and faces of those in the Linguistics Department but this woman she doesn't know. This makes Plum wonder how many others now with the department she doesn't know.
As soon as the woman had entered, the handful of students had quited down, giving her their full attention. She's placed an attache type case on the desk there for a professor and is extracting from it some papers. She doesn't speak until she's begun passing out the various handouts she's got and when she does, she's got a New Zealand accent.
"Jerome Withington needed to change his schedule. I was available to take this course over for him. My name is Anissa Weaver. Please look over this first handout as I pass the others around. This first one has my expectations of you. If you have questions about these expectations, today is the day to ask."
Looking down at the first handout, Plum begins reading, wondering why she has a sense that she should know this woman's name.
(Mark) Current Classes and Future Electives
Author: Isolde
Date: 03-15-09 13:44
As soon as Professor Grubbly-Plank dismissed her second year students, who had just begun studying how to transfigure pairs of animate objects into inanimate ones (white rabbits into slippers, for example), Mark grabbed his things and exited the classroom. He wished he could go to his dorm room and call it a day, but unfortunately he still had one more class––one that he really shouldn't skip.
Professor Carrow didn't like it at all when someone didn't show up for class, whether that person had a good reason or not. Mark really didn't want to start off the last term of the school year on the wrong foot, especially when it would involve Carrow's bad side (did he even have a good side?). So, he sucked it up and walked downstairs with the other second years.
While he walked, he thought about how he couldn't wait for the school year to end. He wanted it to be summertime so that he didn't have to think about schoolwork and teachers. He wouldn't have to have a single care in the world during the holidays. But, as always, summer would end soon enough and then it would be time to start school all over again.
Mark couldn't decide if next year would be more interesting since he would be taking two additional classes. Then again, two additional classes meant more homework. Though he'd gone home for Easter, Mark had had to select the two elective courses he wanted to take next year and to decide whether or not he wanted to continue with Fitness & Athletics. Since he couldn't play Quidditch without the class, he would definitely take it next year. In addition, he signed up for Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.
It didn't take long for Mark and the other second years to reach the Potions classroom in the dungeons. He sat down in his usual seat, opened his textbook to the correct page, and made sure he had ink in his quill and enough parchment to take notes. Professor Carrow had written some things on the board, which Mark dutifully copied down.
When class started, Professor Carrow announced that they would be making Thawing Potions. Mark hadn't done the reading for the class since he didn't want to do any homework over Easter holiday and really hoped he wouldn't get called on in class!
(Austin, Texas) Job Hunting
Author: Marzipan
Date: 03-15-09 14:34
Although Marzi didn't feel entirely like her old self again, she felt much improved since leaving Community 14-15-14. Both her mental and physical health seemed renewed, though it probably would be a while before she felt completely normal, or as close to normal as one could be after experiencing what she'd experienced.
Because she felt better and because she didn't want to sit around and do nothing, Marzi decided she wanted to find a part-time job. She didn't want anything too strenuous but she did want something to keep herself busy and to help with the bills since currently only Weston worked. Illyria felt just the same and had already begun looking for employment, though she also kept her eyes on the newspaper and her ears on the WWN in case she learned anything about her family. More than anything, Illyria wanted to find them. Marzi really couldn't blame her friend. She considered herself lucky that she had found Weston again.
Weston was sleeping after his night shift at the hospital and Illyria had already gone into town to see what news she could find from overseas when Marzi decided to set out and see if she could find a job. She pulled on a cream-colored robe and fixed her hair and make-up and then flooed to Witch's Brew. From there, she set out along Spellway Avenue, the major thoroughfare in the downtown wizarding district, along which several small streets branched off in different directions.
She paused at each shop and debated whether or not she could see herself working there. Marzi didn't yet feel like she couldn't be too choosy, but if she couldn't find the job she wanted, she would have to fall back onto something else.
She eventually came to a store called Herb's Herbs. She'd never done retail before but herbology was definitely her field of expertise. Marzi noted with satisfaction the "Help Wanted" sign on the door and stepped inside to the tinkle of a merry bell. The store wasn't very big but it wasn't too small either. It had bins and barrels of herbs that smelled sweet and spicy and everything in between. Jars lined shelves, everything labeled with what was inside. The counter was filled with stuff, and behind it stood a plump man.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
Marzi put on her best smile. "Actually, I'm hoping I can help you."