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Vexed
Author: Sirius Padfoot Black
Date: 08-30-10 20:51
Sirius enters the Great Hall hand in hand with James with James slowly enunciating, "Choc-o-late. Hear me, Daddy? Choc-o-late."
"You may have something chocolately for pudding if there is anything that fits the bill but ONLY if you eat a proper supper."
"Ate a sammich at tea."
"A quarter of a sandwich, with crusts cut off, more than two hours ago is not a proper supper."
Beside him, James sighs the heavy sigh of one overly burdened. "Okay, but I won't like it."
Sirius grins at this statement though he hides that fact from his son. They reach the head table and Sirius pulls out a chair for the boy, saying as he does, "Maybe you will like it. What if tonight is all your favorites?"
"Favorites means I wike dem?"
Both James and Mira are much better with their Ls and Rs now but every now and then there is a lapse. Sirius doesn't correct the wike to like but does correct, "Them."
"Dat's what I say."
"That's."
"Daddy."
"Yes, James."
"Don' make me vexed with you."
"Where did you hear that word?"
"What word?"
"Vexed?"
"I dunno."
"Hi there, James! What brings you to the Great Hall this evening?" Filius Flitwick asks as he settles into a chair next to James.
"Daddy say I have ta eat supper. I only want choc-o-late."
"I rather like chocolate myself," the diminutive professor says with a wink. "Where is your sister this evening?"
"Mira don't feel good."
"Mira doesn't feel well."
"Dat's what I say, Daddy. Gonna make me vexed again."
Filius smothers a snicker.
Sirius, having decided that James needs a slight bolstering to better eat once his plate is fixed, summons one of the two booster chairs that he keeps at Hogwarts just for this purpose. While he's getting James onto and pushed to the table he tells Filius, "We were visiting Drucilla's mother Sunday when both Mira and Dru started feeling ill. They are both at home in bed. James spent part of the day at the child drop-in center in Hogsmeade and part of the day with me."
"Isn't your Monday schedule somewhat full?"
"It is. I've got three morning and two afternoon classes as well as Monday office hours. I set James up in a corner of the classroom with toys and books and for the most part he kept himself busy. A few times he did move to watch one of the fourth years working on transfiguring a hedgehog to a pincusion."
"I wike heghogs. Dey is cute," James says just before taking a large bit of the chicken drumstick Sirius had just put onto his plate. His mouth full he says, "I ated. Can I have chocolate now?"
"One bite does not make a full supper. Eat the rest of that, please, and the other things I've put on your plate. I've not given you a single thing you don't like."
James sighs that heavy sigh again, his shoulders heaving under his weighty burden. He makes a sort of tsking sound then tells his father, "Okay, but only 'cause you say please."
From Filius's direction comes the distinct sound of more laughter being stifled.
Avoidance
Author: Ella
Date: 08-31-10 18:51
It was only the fourth day of classes and already, Ella wanted to be anywhere but at Hogwarts. Every time she saw Francis, whether it was in the Great Hall, Gryffindor common room, in class or in the corridor, she saw the disapproval clearly upon his face. She tried to reason with herself that he was only looking out for her and that she shouldn't be angry with him, but she couldn't help it. She wanted him to respect her decision to be with Zane, not to disparage her for it.
Where she could, Ella avoided Francis, though it wasn't easy. On the Hogwarts Express, she'd spent the whole ride in the prefects compartment, except when she'd had patrol duty. Most of the other prefects had gone off to find their friends after the meeting with the Head Boy and Head Girl, but Ella would have rather sat with a bunch of first years than share a compartment with Francis and have him lecture her about the fact that she was dating a much older man and lying to him about her age.
Even at the Start of Term Feast, Ella chose a spot at the Gryffindor table no where near Francis. Whenever she saw him come towards her in the common room, she got up and went to her dormitory where he couldn't enter. Unfortunately, he was in all of her classes except for Fitness & Athletics, and in some of them they sat next to each other, either because the professor seated them that way or because Francis arrived after Ella and deliberately took the place next to her.
Ella realized that she wouldn't be able to avoid Francis forever, but she would damn well try in the meantime.
In Herbology, they didn't sit next to each other but they did sit opposite each other, which had Ella concentrating on not staring straight ahead.
Professor Masterson lectured on flitterbloom, which bore a resemblance to Devil's Snare, a very dangerous plant. Ella did her best to focus on her teacher and the plants he lectured on, but after a while of craning her neck in his direction, she did feel a bit of a cramp. She turned in her seat to face him a little more directly.
It was then that she had the feeling that she was being watched. Ella knew that Francis was just waiting for the opportunity to catch her eye, even if he couldn't hold a conversation about her personal life right then and there in class. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of gazing in his direction.
And then she heard him start to speak. "Professor, do you think it's intentional that flitterbloom and Devil's Snare look so much alike? I mean, in nature, you hear about a harmless plant or animal looking like a poisonous variety as a means for survival against predators. I guess it works vice versa too. Devil's Snare looks like a harmless plant, but it isn't. It's like it's using deception to make it appear as if it's really something it's not."
Ella couldn't help it then. She looked at Francis and wondered if what he'd just said was code for her deceiving Zane into believing she was an adult and not a Hogwarts student.
By then, he was looking patiently at Professor Masterson for an answer.
It was hard not saying something in response to Francis' question, but Ella couldn't think of anything clever enough, and she didn't want to have people wondering about what was going on between the two of them. Instead she bit her lip and waited for class to finally end.
Speak of the Devil
Author: Bill Weasley
Date: 09-01-10 19:37
"I do not like eet," Fleur declared, as she studied her husband's profile. Even as he turned to face her, she could see from the lines in his face that he was deep in thought over the anonymous letter he'd received during the summer.
"What don't you like, dear?" Bill asked, at first not realizing how very clearly his wife could read him. They sat together on the couch in their Hogsmeade home.
"You are zinking about Adriana Fairchild again."
Bill looked surprised. "Yes, but––"
"Eet eez een ze Ministry of Magic's 'ands now. You must leave eet be and let zem deescovair ze motive behind ze note. Besides, ze onlee zing zat should be on your mind right at zis moment eez baby names."
She had taken one of his hands in the meantime and placed it upon her not yet swollen stomach. Fleur wasn't very far along in her pregnancy, such that she wasn't sure she wanted to broadcast the news to the world lest she suffer yet another miscarriage, but after having Victoire, she felt more confident about carrying this child to term.
Bill smiled and leaned over to kiss where his hand had just been. He looked up at his wife and said, "How about Humphrey?"
"Pfft."
"Latrina?"
"Absolutely not."
"You're not making this easy," Bill teased. He draped his arm over his wife's shoulders and pulled her gently closer to him.
"You are not taking zis vairy seriously," she replied, playfully elbowing him in the side. She took up the magazine she'd been reading and started flipping through the pages.
"I will," Bill answered honestly, and as they settled back into companionable silence, his mind drifted not to Adriana but to Helena. Even to this day, her murder remained unsolved. Knowing that she had deceived everyone, it didn't seem impossible for Bill to imagine that someone had wanted her dead, but who? Maybe she'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but perhaps she'd just lied to the wrong person.
And the letter? Who had written it? It couldn't have been either Adriana or Helena, because they were both dead... weren't they? Helena, certainly, but Bill had never seen Adriana's body to know without a doubt, though he had never questioned her death before. He'd never had reason to.
"Bill..."
He realized Fleur was onto him again and sighed. "I'm sorry, I can't help it."
Fleur had just started to open her mouth with a retort when they both heard tapping at the living room window. Bill untangled himself from his wife and got up to see what was going on. He pulled back the curtains and saw an owl pecking at the window. It was the same owl that had delivered the first anonymous note.
A sense of dread passed through Bill. He opened the window and found Fleur already standing at his shoulder, looking at the owl with a mix of fear and interest.
Bill took the note from the bird and unfurled it. No sooner had he done so that the owl flew away into the night.
"What does eet say?" Fleur asked.
Bill read aloud, "Vegas weddings never last, do they?"
"What does zat mean?"
Bill came up with the answer easily enough. "Charlie and Helena got married in Las Vegas while attending a dragon convention there. I want to say it was a summer wedding, perhaps late August? It was spur of the moment, and as you and I both know, it didn't last."
"And ze writing?" Fleur asked. "Eet's ze same as last time?"
Bill looked at the familiar penmanship. "Without a doubt."
Either Adriana Fairchild was writing to him from beyond the grave, or she wasn't really dead at all. Bill was more inclined to believe that someone was forging her handwriting, but who and why? It just seemed odd to dredge up the past after so much time had passed.
"I'm going to head to Charlie's," Bill decided. He wanted to brainstorm with someone, and that person would either be Charlie who used to be married to Helena, or Julian, who'd dated her very seriously and was apparently to love of her short life. Between the two, Bill vastly preferred his brother.
He left the house with a parting kiss for his wife and then swiftly walked down the lane to his brother's place.
Spider Antidote Potions
Author: Majandra
Date: 09-02-10 14:38
Majandra began her morning with Miranda being cranky over having regular check-up at the pediatric healer's. She'd not wanted to get dressed, hadn't wanted to eat breakfast, and had not wanted to allow George to pick her up to carry her through the floo for the appointment. Miranda's crankiness was picked up by Georgie, who will often ape his big sister without knowing why, even her off mood. That meant until George and Miranda left, Georgie was also being difficult. The second they were gone, however, Georgie became all smiles and announced he wanted his, "Pamcakes," and wanted them with, "Stawbrewry jim and sawrup," oh and, "bunches of bitter."
Glad to have him in a better mood, Maj had set him in front of the pancakes he'd earlier turned his nose up over simpy because MIranda had done the same with hers, waved her wand at the stack of three toddler sized pancakes to warm them back up, dabbed a bit of butter on them, followed by strawberry jam and a dollop of maple syrup. Georgie quickly devoured these and was ready to get to Hogsmeade for Blossom's because his class was having storytime first thing today.
After dropping off her now sunny, obliging child in the village, Majandra had walked to Hogwarts, arriving in her dungeon office with time enough to spare before her first class of the day to grab a cup of tea with some of the other professors who, like so many of the students, were discussing the this year's Quidditch tournament. At this juncture only Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Batuti know which schools are involved so speculation is rife among the other staff as to what other six schools of magical Hogwarts will be competing against.
At a few minutes before her first Potions class of the day is set to begin, Maj was standing at the front of her classroom where she'd put the information for today's lessons on the variou chalk boards before going home yesterday. At promptly 9 o'clock, Maj waved her wand at the door to close it just as the last of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw fourth years skidded into the his seat.
With everyone present, Maj saw no reason not to jump right in with a, "Good morning! I trust everyone read the assignment. Without looking at your text, who is able to state three facts about wolf spiders? Yes, Sadie?"
"There are many types, they live all over the world in many habitats, and two of their eyes are big and prominent," Sadie Mickle promptly recites after putting down the hand she'd raised.
"Yes to all three. Five points. Let's give Ravenclaw a chance to earn five as well with three more facts." Maj calls on the second of the Ravenclaws to raise a hand. "Alastor."
"Each type tends to be whatever color will blend it in with its habitat. They're hunters that can help naturally control insects, and they're largely nocturnal."
"Excellent. Ravenclaw gets five points as well. After our initial review last Friday we began a potion that we continued on Monday. That was for an antidote for black widow spider bites. Why is an antidote potion needed for wolf spider bites?"
Catriona raises her hand. "Because bites can be painful with swelling."
"But they aren't lethal," Wilbur counters. "I read several times the bit about their bites and don't get why there'd be a need for an antidote."
"No, a wolf spider bite is not considered harmful, for most. That's the key part. For most. Unless there has been a change in their medical approach to wolf spider bites, Muggles don't have an antivenom or other specific wolf spider antidote. We have one because there was once a Potions Master whose young child was bitten by one and had a horrible reaction. Young children and the elderly are more likely to suffer more from a wolf spider bite. Then there are those who are allergic. The Potions Master's daugther was not only young but turned out she was also allergic and came very close to dying. The Potions Master, whose name by the way was Thomas Hopper, decided to develop an antidote in case his daughter were to ever be bitten again by a wolf spider. That was in 1797."
Majandra then asked the class, "Why are you studying spiders and antidotes on potions instead of one of your other classes? Anyone want to venture a guess? Aleydis?"
"Because spiders aren't magical and they aren't something we'd learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"Yes, that's it exactly. Three points."
Maj had then gone over typical symptoms of a wolf spider bite and then of allergic reactions to spider bites in general and how one should handle either situation before revealing the potion recipe. "You should get to this point indicated by the red line by the end of the period. The recipe is in your book but doesn't do a very good job of clearly specifying the spot at which the potion should be left for at least two nights. Also, do be careful when measuring out the wolf spider venom so as not to get any on you. At the end of the period, you will bottle your potions, which should be a luminous light blue by then, clearly label your bottles, put them on the shelf there so you have them to resume working on Friday. You may begin."
When the class ended, the fourth years dutifully put their bottled wolf spider antidotes on the shelf indicated and left, making way for the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins, who after two days spent with a Potions overview, learning how to properly prepare ingredients, and properly clean up after themselves, are eager to get started trying their hands at making an actual potion, which will be one some might want to use if successful as it's an acne treatment. After the 10 o'clock class Maj had one other, more Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws but second years.
At noon, after collecting swelling potions from the second years, Maj left the castle for lunch in Hogsmeade with George to find out how Miranda's check-up went and simply to spend some time with her husband with no children running about.
After Defense Against The Dark Arts (Mason)
Author: Pyrrhus
Date: 09-02-10 17:46
Exiting their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Boris Samson and Mason Jeffers dawdle as they walk because they are deep in conversation about which clubs they're definitely in this term as well as discussing the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. After spending time last term getting more adept at flying and after spending part of his summer with Pyrrhus hanging around the Hogsmeade Humbatas stadium, Mason definitely ready for the challenge of trying out. He's not so sure he'd actually be selected but at least by trying out he's getting yet more experience. Boris is thinking about trying out as well but he's far more ambivalent about it. Boris stated his reason as, "See, I'm a Quidditch lover but like playing just for fun. Don't think I'd like the stress of having to be spot on and not being the one mucking up things. What I'd really like best is announcing our Hogwarts matches."
Mason was not in the least bit surpised to hear this revelation because Boris is focused on being a big household name in Wizarding World broadcasting. Boris is so focused on this, he can be heard practicing voices and certain phrases at odd times. Mason has no doubt that Boris will succeed as a famous WWN broadcaster if that's what he's still wanting to do when they reach adulthood.
Mason, on the other hand, does want to play Quidditch. He wants to make school team but if not this year, then by next. He's determined to be so good that by the professional teams are scouting him long before he graduates Hogwarts, much like they already do with Wiggersmythe Hodfuffer. He's convinced that if he'd grown up in a Wizarding environment, or at least with knowledge of it, and begun flying at an earlier age, he'd already be on someone's radar. Of course, when he'd said this to Boris, the other boy had promptly asked, "What's radar?"
At least with the Wizarding World having its own form of radio broadcasting, explaining radar was not as difficult as Mason had first thought it might be. He still recalls trying to explain to Boris what the word laser is actually an acronym for once when playing Wizard's laser tag in Hogsmeade. He's still not sure whether Boris has a true grasp on what an actual laser is or not.
As they reach the ground floor and turn from the stairs in the direction of the Great Hall, Boris suddenly stops. "Damn. Forgot to read the Herbology assignment. I was going to switch out morning class stuff for this afternoon's after we ate but I'd best go now and see if I can't get the reading in while we eat."
"Good idea."
Mason decides he might as well switch out his DADA and Charms materials for his Herbology and History of Magic things. Altering direction they head instead for the stairs going down into the dungeons, picking up their conversation where they'd left off as they head to Slytherin House.
(Paris, France) People Watching
Author: Peyton Summers
Date: 09-02-10 22:10
"Oh honey look, a French makeover!" The red headed woman laughed as she kissed her fiance. Peyton could tell he was only a fiance by the ring on the girl's finger. Expensive, diamond, and with no wedding band. Though, truth be told, the fiance in question could just be a high-roller who spent massive amounts on cash on a promise ring just to get in the red head's pants. But really, who bought promise rings for people anymore? Especially rich guys...I mean really.
The couple walked away and Peyton looked on, trying to find a new subject. People weren't always easy to figure out. How many times had Peyton staked out her teachers'/classmates'/other faculties' offices, rooms, and whatever else she could stake out for one of her pity classmate cases? Though by her 7th year, those classmates were paying her to get the dirt. Still - sometimes people needed more than a little eavesdropping and a short glance.
Like this lady right now. She has to be in her 70's and just standing around. Not looking anywhere in particular, just standing with her Mary Poppins purse and lavender sweater. Peyton's mind reeled. What if this lady was a drug mule? Children were the normal drug mule targets nowadays - inconspicuous and always ready to earn a quick buck. But an otherwise sweet looking old lady? That's just genius! Peyton really ought to write these things down and sell them to someone. She'd make a load from convicts and cops for her ideas. Really she would.
"Ah, let me guess. She's a pimp watching her whores. They know who she is, but no one else does. And really, they'd never guess it, right? I mean with a woman that old."
"Wrong," Peyton said as she continued to watch the elderly woman. Her father passed her a pastry, which she accepted while her eyes remained fixated on the grandma. "She's a drug mule carrying cocaine. Pierre the Druggie is going to meet her any moment and pretend to steal her bag. By the time the cops will get the bag, Pierre the Druggie will be long gone and the cocaine from the bag will have mysteriously disappeared by the time Grandma checks her purse again."
Mr. Summers (to be honest, I forgot what I named him) took a bite of his pastry and shook his head. "You need to stop people watching or write a book or something."
"And how will I be England's Best Auror if I spend all my time writing books about drug muling grandmothers? Also, please swallow before talking. Food in mouth during speech, not hot." Peyton took a bite from her own pastry now as she looked up at the woman, who now had a child at her waist and a blonde woman hugging her.
Swallowing his food, Mr. Summers looked up and smiled. "Less drug mule, more grandma. So how many years do you think until I'm a grandfather?"
Peyton practically choked upon the mention of the word 'grandfather'. "Dude, you'll be lucky if that happens at all. Children are seriously the vermin of the Earth. I know, up until a few months ago I was one, but they're so naggy and wanty and bleh."
"Aww, have one for your dad, please?"
"Why don't you find a nice lady, settle down, and make babies? I could use a younger sibling to practice torture skills out on."
Mr. Summers looked away before pointing to a newspaper boy talking to some girl on the side of the road. "What about him?"
"He probably already has at least one parent, Dad," Peyton said once she'd swallowed the last of her pastry.
"No no, I mean, what's his story?"
Peyton looked at the guy again, this time for a longer amount of time before tilting her head to the right and letting her face relax into a smug expression. "He's gay, but wants to know where the girl got her shirt so he can buy the same ones and wear them with some matching capris."
"You're sick, Peyt," was all Mr. Summers could say in response before taking another bite of food.