26 Sep 2022, 13:47
It Hasn't Even Been a Week
OOC
- This is a detention thread.
- Only @Clark William Baird-Carter may post
- Until you post reaching the minimum word count of 400 words, you cannot make or join new RP threads until detention is complete. Threads that were created before the detention thread was created can be continued as normal.
- Magdalena will be overseeing this detention but you do not need to directly interact with her
- This thread takes place on 6 September 2022
True to her word, Magdalena waited diligently for the dinner to finish and for the procession of students to funnel out of the Great Hall. Yet she did not move from her seat at the professor’s table, like a predator she sat fully still, until all but the last of the students had left the hall to return to their rooms or to wander about looking for abandoned classrooms to get up to mischief. One student would be prohibited from engaging in anything of the sort. Clark William Baird-Carter had earned himself a detention, not even a week into his first year at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was some kind of record, Magdalena was not certain. What she did know, is that she had allowed the house elves the opportunity to have a rather relaxing night. Sure, the boy could not be expected to clean up the entire feast, there were hundreds of bodies that needed to be fed and watered. But the worst of the pots most certainly could be scrubbed clean.
“Come,” She would speak the single word, as she approached the boy, before turning and leading him down and toward the kitchens.
As always, the kitchens were a cavalcade of activity, with elves hastily running about, seeing to cleaning up after the many students and teachers that dared to call Hogwarts home. In one particular dingy corner, a pile of cooking pots, some pewter, some steel, and more than a few cast iron sat piled. Bits of stew and leftover food caked all but one. The largest pot, a cauldron in truth, was filled with soapy water, a sponge and pair of rubber gloves placed to its side.
“You’ll be cleaning those,” Magdalena informed the boy, “And we shan’t be leaving here until they’re done. Adequately, mind you, I won’t take any half-measures here. I don’t particularly care how long it takes, I have all night.”
With that said, she perched herself against one of the tables, and took to examining the underside of her nails. It was a harsh lesson, perhaps, but one that needed to be learned.
The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts
27 Sep 2022, 17:38
It Hasn't Even Been a Week
Great. The boy had to look forward to a eternity of suffering. Was he in jail? Or in hell? What did he get himself into? He somehow cursed himself to a fate as such of this. Seriously though, what was up? How the hell did he cause such a temporary damnation to occur? "I HATE YOU SO MUCH HEAD CANDLEWICK! LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M SORRY I DIDN'T KNOW YOUR ROOM WAS SIMPLY JUST THE DOOR I APPARENTLY TRIED TO KICK IN!"
Clark missed the point of the apology, it seemed. And perhaps Head of House Mags wasn't one of those adults that accept the odd nicknames. Perhaps she, in her daring past of Potion Professor.
"YOU REALLY WANT ME TO-" Clark dimmed his tone to be calmer- and not quite as violent. No one truly wants to experience a sharp tone faced up towards them. It's almost as if Clark were the victim in such a situation. And finally, he just decided to shut up- all on his own- without being told to. Only to open his mouth with more words in a few minutes.
Okay, fine, maybe he wasn't the victim. It was truly his Head of House that recieved the blunt end of it. Clark had to ace the consequences. It was a punishment meant to teach him that what he did was bad.
Clark took the ignorant move of kicking one of the pots in the pile. He watched as the entire pile of pots fell with such a loud bang and clatter. Almost as if he were supposed to- Clark tried t make up for it, taking the first pot off the ground, and walked over to where he were supposed to scrub them. How unfortunate that he didn't kow the Scourgify spell.
Oh who could truly hate Clark that much, just to force him to work and- wait- was he being given the task that the house elves have? In the midst of his questioning thoughts, his hand scrubbing the first pot came across a huge mass of gooey mashed potato- some clinging to the interior of the pot.
Ugh- and there were several pots like that- thankfully most seemed to be soup of some kind and could be dumped out. He turned on the water, hoping the water would wash it out. It did, with the exception of the dried part with the gooey bumps- almost as if dealing with pimples that have goo that gets on your finger once you touch it.
It made Clark sick to his stomach. But he still pushed himself through the torture his Head has put him into. He sang a song, by Michael Jackson- called "They Don't Care About Us" while scrubbing and gagging at random times once he came across another disgusting food that splattered on his hand.
Ugh, it's absolutely disgusting what people leave behind- especially when it's in a pot- or pan.
@Magdalena Wickham-Deakin
| You've gotta break some eggs to make an omlette, something something. |
2 Oct 2022, 00:44
It Hasn't Even Been a Week
@Clark William Baird-Carter, your detention has been served.
The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts