Not the Brightest Crayon
Without a doubt, Ami's worst subject was Transfiguration.
At least Herbology was just like gardening; Potions was more or less explosive cooking; History of Magic was history with strange repurcussions; Charms was swishing and flicking; Flying was gym; Astronomy was actually Astronomy; and Defense Against the Dark Arts was just straight up hard. But Transfiguration? It was as if Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts had a disaster child and left it to be raised by Science. See alternative definition: totally impossible.
If only she was good at this. Transfiguration... well, she wouldn't lie- the first thing that had caught her eye regarding the subject had been animagi. Who didn't go through an animal phase as a child? It seemed impossible, incredible to Ami that someone could possibly turn into an animal, and then turn back into a human, and at will! But it was more than just that, more than the flashy things- it was even the small things that intrigued the redhead.
Like when her mother had seen Ami's disappointment at the dress she had gotten her, and waved her wand and promptly turned it into a suit; like when Abella would, with a small flick and a wide smile, gamely change the colors of Ami's walls, the texture of her comforter, the color of her hair and irises. With Ami now accustomed to the magical community, Abella could have fun in the house, again, and Transfiguration was usually always involved.
What with all of her brilliance, it wasn't a surprise that Abella hoped that Ami would be able to follow in her footsteps- but instead of studying, she did pull-ups; instead of reading, she ran laps; instead of practicing, she learned how to do ollies and nollies on her skateboard. It was... well, expected. Her father had been that way as a child, and Ami had to have taken after one of them; Abella only wished that it had been her, instead. What had actually surprised her were just how bad Ami's grades were getting- although her daughter could usually get on by with P's, A's, and E's, her grades in Transfiguration were... well, dismal at best.
Clutching her more recent essays in hand, Ami trudged down the corridors with an anxious and upset expression on her face- even her appearance mimicked her thoughts, her robes left in the common room, the sleeves of her blouse pushed up messily to her elbows, the cuffs of her high-waisted black jeans torn and frayed. There were some questionable stains on her white blouse (although, if you knew Ami at all, they were all from coffee) and her tie was loosened, and the eye bags under her eyes were darker than normal.
Even the way she smelled was different- with her, it was always a push-and-pull ratio of coffee to sunflowers. If she smelled heavily of sunflower shampoo, she was feeling pretty good; she was taking care of herself, and she hadn't been stressing lately. But if she smelled strongly of coffee... well, she had either just gone to breakfast, or she was upset. Today, it was because of the latter.
D's. T's. She had never gotten a better grade than a P in Transfiguration this year, and it was becoming a problem. She wasn't friends with Celynne anymore, which meant that she didn't have anyone to help her with her homework, and she needed to pass this class. She desperately wanted to pass. She loved the subject, she just... didn't get it.
Knocking on the frame of the doorway, Ami glanced inside nervously. "Uh... Professor Lian? Are you there? It's Ami Procoppio, second year Hufflepuff... I have a, um, problem."
At least Herbology was just like gardening; Potions was more or less explosive cooking; History of Magic was history with strange repurcussions; Charms was swishing and flicking; Flying was gym; Astronomy was actually Astronomy; and Defense Against the Dark Arts was just straight up hard. But Transfiguration? It was as if Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts had a disaster child and left it to be raised by Science. See alternative definition: totally impossible.
If only she was good at this. Transfiguration... well, she wouldn't lie- the first thing that had caught her eye regarding the subject had been animagi. Who didn't go through an animal phase as a child? It seemed impossible, incredible to Ami that someone could possibly turn into an animal, and then turn back into a human, and at will! But it was more than just that, more than the flashy things- it was even the small things that intrigued the redhead.
Like when her mother had seen Ami's disappointment at the dress she had gotten her, and waved her wand and promptly turned it into a suit; like when Abella would, with a small flick and a wide smile, gamely change the colors of Ami's walls, the texture of her comforter, the color of her hair and irises. With Ami now accustomed to the magical community, Abella could have fun in the house, again, and Transfiguration was usually always involved.
What with all of her brilliance, it wasn't a surprise that Abella hoped that Ami would be able to follow in her footsteps- but instead of studying, she did pull-ups; instead of reading, she ran laps; instead of practicing, she learned how to do ollies and nollies on her skateboard. It was... well, expected. Her father had been that way as a child, and Ami had to have taken after one of them; Abella only wished that it had been her, instead. What had actually surprised her were just how bad Ami's grades were getting- although her daughter could usually get on by with P's, A's, and E's, her grades in Transfiguration were... well, dismal at best.
Clutching her more recent essays in hand, Ami trudged down the corridors with an anxious and upset expression on her face- even her appearance mimicked her thoughts, her robes left in the common room, the sleeves of her blouse pushed up messily to her elbows, the cuffs of her high-waisted black jeans torn and frayed. There were some questionable stains on her white blouse (although, if you knew Ami at all, they were all from coffee) and her tie was loosened, and the eye bags under her eyes were darker than normal.
Even the way she smelled was different- with her, it was always a push-and-pull ratio of coffee to sunflowers. If she smelled heavily of sunflower shampoo, she was feeling pretty good; she was taking care of herself, and she hadn't been stressing lately. But if she smelled strongly of coffee... well, she had either just gone to breakfast, or she was upset. Today, it was because of the latter.
D's. T's. She had never gotten a better grade than a P in Transfiguration this year, and it was becoming a problem. She wasn't friends with Celynne anymore, which meant that she didn't have anyone to help her with her homework, and she needed to pass this class. She desperately wanted to pass. She loved the subject, she just... didn't get it.
Knocking on the frame of the doorway, Ami glanced inside nervously. "Uh... Professor Lian? Are you there? It's Ami Procoppio, second year Hufflepuff... I have a, um, problem."
Last edited by Ami Procoppio on 11 Aug 2021, 05:56, edited 1 time in total.
According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.
stamina: 7 | evasion: 15 | strength: 21 | wisdom: 6 | arcane power: 3 | accuracy: 25
martial artist | spell spread | animagus
stamina: 7 | evasion: 15 | strength: 21 | wisdom: 6 | arcane power: 3 | accuracy: 25
martial artist | spell spread | animagus
Not the Brightest Crayon
Cy had taken this position a less than a year ago, and yet the newness of the environment to her was already fading. She'd lived here only three and some years ago, she supposed, and the halls were familiar already. Of course, she no longer had to run through the castle slipping into class late every day, but the young woman found that she was quite content staying in her own Transfiguration classroom. Ah, how she had loved that class, and all the others... the many detentions she'd gotten in every single one of them... that time she made a slinky go down all the moving stairs in the castle, from the Astronomy Tower to the Basement...
Yeah, that wasn't really the point of being a professor.
She'd just finished teaching one of her Second Year classes. Not many of the students had much trouble with it, something that she wished could be attributed to her awesome teaching skills, but no, she was relatively sure that the material was just easy to understand. And sure, maybe sometimes she made it easier for students to remember key parts of it with her flamboyant theatrics, but her homework was hard, and she knew it.
She just wished more would come to her for help - and honestly, the more interested ones had, sooner or later, even if it took a while for them to come out of their shells. Cy knew that she had. Asking the intimidating Professor Yornikovych questions was not the easiest thing to do, and nobody would recognize the timid, blind girl with lips zipped so tightly that crowbars couldn't pry them open. Yes, these days were different.
Her philosophy - there were those who were interested, and those who weren't. Those who were interested, she could teach. Those who weren't, perhaps she could win over and then help. But those who were adamantly set on hating her field... well, there was nothing she could do with those until they decided to give her a chance. You could teach any student, but you couldn't teach a rock how to do anything but play dead. It was never too late to change your mind, though, and once you did, she'd be ready to help.
You know, help being a very broad term. At least she tried.
So this precious night, Cy flicked her wand at the presentation wall, allowing sketched-out white diagrams of light and light waves to spread across the slate. On occasion the witch would tweak out some of the wording or switch out a diagram, brainstorming what she'd be explaining in tomorrow's lecture. Really, she was mostly taking a break from grading homework while pretending to be working.
Sucker by The Jonas Brothers blasted from the enchanted radio in her office - she would've preferred her laptop, but apparently the internet was sin in this school - turned down a little after one of the Gryffindors had stepped in to complain, and some kind of butterbeer frappuccino rested on the nearest desk to the one she was sitting on. Her scarf was rich blue, clasped with a dark metal ring on the left side of her temple, ends braided with two other strands of her own hair cascading down her back.
When she heard someone rapping against her door, Cy immediately flicked her wand to turn the music down and erase the diagrams on the wall. Thankfully, she'd left the fires burning in her little DIY lighting system - who still used torches, honestly? - from when the Gryffindor had dropped in, so at least she wouldn't be greeting her guest in pitch black darkness, as she'd done in the past. As the unknown student began speaking, she raised an eyebrow.
Ami Procoppio, Hufflepuff, Second Year at the time. Always had a bit of trouble on her homework, actually. Well, possibly a bit more than a bit of trouble. But judging from her attempts at participating in class, she wasn't disinterested - just kind of... lost. And, well, it was about time she asked for help. "Yeah, I'm here - if I wasn't, there would be a bunch of conjured ice water pouring on your head right now. Come in. What's up? Why do you sound dead? Is it 'cause of me? Usually it's because of me."
Not the Brightest Crayon
Ami gulped in alarm as Cypresse casually mentioned the punishment for barging in to the Transfiguration classroom while she wasn't present, shivering at the thought of icy water dripping down the back of her shirt- big no-no. However, the professor's next words put her at ease immediately, her casual way of speaking a huge difference from a vast majority of both the professors and students at Hogwarts. With a small sigh of relief, the Hufflepuff stepped further into the classroom, her essays clutched tightly in her hands.
"I- do I sound dead?" Ami asked out loud with a question lining her voice. "I have... well, you know who I am, and you know what my grades are." She hung her head at that part, shuffling her feet awkwardly, glancing around the empty classroom with a dogged wariness in her eyes. This was the place where she felt the worst, where she felt even worse than ever while other students understood the class material.
She continued further into the room, setting her essays on the professor's desk with a sigh. With a sheepish grin, Ami glanced at Cypresse. "Do you... do you think that you could help me? Maybe help me understand the material, help me with the essays. I- I really like your class, I swear! I just don't get it- it doesn't really click." She glanced at stylishly dressed professor, who seemed engrossed in whatever it was that she was working on, the sound of corny pop music washing over them.
Hopefully, the professor would help- that's what professors were supposed to do, right? They were here to help the students, and right now, Ami needed all the help she could get. She had never asked the professors for help before, excluding that one little session where she got overly upset that she had lost in a duel, so this was honestly quite a big step for her.
"I- do I sound dead?" Ami asked out loud with a question lining her voice. "I have... well, you know who I am, and you know what my grades are." She hung her head at that part, shuffling her feet awkwardly, glancing around the empty classroom with a dogged wariness in her eyes. This was the place where she felt the worst, where she felt even worse than ever while other students understood the class material.
She continued further into the room, setting her essays on the professor's desk with a sigh. With a sheepish grin, Ami glanced at Cypresse. "Do you... do you think that you could help me? Maybe help me understand the material, help me with the essays. I- I really like your class, I swear! I just don't get it- it doesn't really click." She glanced at stylishly dressed professor, who seemed engrossed in whatever it was that she was working on, the sound of corny pop music washing over them.
Hopefully, the professor would help- that's what professors were supposed to do, right? They were here to help the students, and right now, Ami needed all the help she could get. She had never asked the professors for help before, excluding that one little session where she got overly upset that she had lost in a duel, so this was honestly quite a big step for her.
According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.
stamina: 7 | evasion: 15 | strength: 21 | wisdom: 6 | arcane power: 3 | accuracy: 25
martial artist | spell spread | animagus
stamina: 7 | evasion: 15 | strength: 21 | wisdom: 6 | arcane power: 3 | accuracy: 25
martial artist | spell spread | animagus
Not the Brightest Crayon
Oh, boy! Just what she expected.
Cy grinned, a little lopsidedly, and jumped up onto a different desk, crossing her legs. "You do sound dead, but so does most of the student body and half the professors at this school, so it's nothing to worry about. I'm sure the bags under your eyes are Prada." Okay, that was a lie, she maybe sounded a little more dead than she would've liked the students in her class to sound, but at least she had enough life in her to seek out the professor of the subject she seemed to be struggling in. Good choice right there, because if this kid wanted help, she'd be getting it. A lot of it. Meaning a lot of work, but helpful work.
At the mention of her grades, Cy snorted. "No sh - no kidding. I'm pretty sure you've seen my feedback on your homework, so I'll save you the rant for now." She paused to take a sip of her Butterbeer as she listened, mouthwatering caramel scent floating into the air. "Hey, kid," the witch continued, voice softening, "if it makes you feel better, guess what my grades were in my First Year of Transfiguration? I had straight T's, because I never turned in my homework. Literally never. Granted, kind of a different situation from you, because you unlike me then are actually trying, but at the very least it means that you still have hope."
Honestly, if she hadn't come to her first, Cy probably would've sought Ami out herself. Though it wasn't her place to push people out of their comfort zones - a common practice but a potentially damaging one on certain people - it usually didn't hurt to prod a bit, just to make sure they knew she existed and wasn't, like... an angry troll like Professor Lear. Or something. That was probably offensive in some way or another. She decided on not vocalizing that particular thought and instead chose to pat the desk beside her, inviting Ami to sit.
"First thing you need to know, though it's gonna sound completely unnecessary and a cliched part of every sympathetic teacher talk, is that I'm glad you came to me, and I know it can be hard to approach professors, especially when you have, like, Professor Barclay as a teacher. We can make ourselves open to students as possible, but there's only so much we can do if the student doesn't want to talk to us. And, honestly, if I'd had to go find you and schedule a meeting, it would probably be both condescending for you and a crapton more work for me to do on a Friday night. Seeing as I'm currently procrastinating, might as well get something productive done while I'm at it." She frowned at the idea, taking another sip of her drink.
"Seriously, though, there's hope for you yet. You're definitely easier to help than the idiots who just stare out the window for the entire class and need to be yelled at five times before they get the instructions. I'm not gonna lie and say that you're not behind, because you sure as f - definitely are, but I will say that you don't have to be for your whole life, or even the rest of the year. Your interest is honestly better than a lot of the people who have better grades than you right now, your brain just isn't receiving information the way that it wants to. We'll see how we can change that." She grinned, setting her cup down. "Okay, we're done with cheesy teacher crap. Gah, I'm becoming one of the boring old ones! Anyway, how far behind are you really? Like, at what point this year or last year did I start losing you? I can't completely tell from just your homework assignments, but I think we can work something out. And don't be afraid to suggest something outrageous, as long as it won't get me fired, because my generation is poor and needs money."