24 Feb 2020, 00:31
Quite Contrary
Calling @Hazel CaelunDate: February 18th, 2020
Time: First Period
Continues from the roleplay script of the fourth Charms lesson, but swapping Professor Vi out for Professor Vernatis (with permission by the latter for this RP to take place):
ReducioA small bustling group of students stood outside the Charms classroom shortly after the start of class Their expressions ranged largely from confusion, to excitement, with the odd few sparks of curiosity and one or two who seemed rather definitively as though they might need an hour or two more of sleep. Upon the wooden door, the handle of which would not budge for any of them, was fixed a letter in finely scrawled cursive. The letter read simply…
What goes through a door but never enters or comes out?
For several minutes, the throng of students, their voices a rising din of excitement in the narrow corridor, discussed the notice. No one seemed particularly sure what it meant, but a few seemed certain it was a riddle of some kind or another and had begun to work out the possible meaning when a throat was cleared behind them, bringing them about-face.
Violet Henley stood in the hall, her arms full, two plates near to overflowing with perfectly round chocolate cupcakes, topped with brilliant golden-yellow icing and tiny silver figures of keys, hand-molded from modeling chocolate, “Good afternoon," she said with a smile, "I see you’ve found my note.”
“The door is locked, Professor Vi!” One of the smaller of the lot spoke up, a pale little blonde with bright pink bows in her hair. Her voice, a squeak, was tinged with an uneasy concern, and she pointed to the note behind her.
“Of course it is.” Violet nodded, grinning a little conspiratorially, “Has anyone figured out my little riddle, yet?”
“Ah! I knew it was a riddle!” A boy, broad-shouldered, with a proud face, more nose than chin, pushed his way to the front, his nasal intonation rising with an edge of arrogance unbecoming of an eleven-year-old boy, “I had rather thought as much, and was just saying... Are we meant to solve it, then?”
“Do you think you can?” Violet asked, smiling, with just the barest trace of surprise in her voice. It wasn’t a particularly difficult or daunting missive, but he seemed abnormally confident, for one so young, and she had only arrived a few moments after the students.
“Well… It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” The boy continued, grinning, terribly pleased with his own cleverness, “It’s a mail slot.”
“Hm…” Chuckling, Violet shook her head, “Clever. But not quite there.” A hum of laughter echoed from the other students and the boy’s cheeks flushed as he melted back into the crowd, but Violet gave a shake of her head and the chuckling died down, “Anyone else want to wager a guess?”
“It’s a keyhole.” A sprig of a girl with wide, bright green eyes finally added, from her place in the middle of the group, “In the doorknob.”
“Very good, young Miss Aveline. If you’d all excuse me just a moment...” Handing one of the trays to the now sulking boy and one to the sprig, Violet removed her wand from where she tucked it into her sleeve and approached the door, gave it a small wave, in the shape of a backwards ‘S’, her voice calling out softly, “Alohomora…”
There was a soft click, a few gasps behind her, and reaching out, the Charms professor turned the knob, the door swinging open with a whining creek. Gesturing into the classroom, she delicately smiled, “After you.”
The room filled with students, filing in to settle at their desks and once inside, Violet made a line for the chalkboard, gesturing first to the pair with the trays in their arms, “If you two wouldn’t mind passing those out? Brilliant. Now then… As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, our lesson for today will be on the Locking Spell and the Unlocking Charm. One of my personal favorites, as I am rather adept at losing my keys.”
Plucking up a piece of chalk, she scrawled the words Alohomora and Colloportus across the length of the board, “First. Alohomora. Chapter seven in your books.” Waiting until the page-flipping ended, she continued, “To start, a rather curious charm. Developed in Africa, it was brought over by one Eldon Elsrickle. Most unfortunately, Mr. Elsrickle utilized the charm to make something of a menace of himself with both wizard and muggle kind, by breaking into homes to steal the belongings of those inside. That is, until Blagdon Blay came out with the Anti-Alohomora Charm some short while later, and set things right. The word Alohomora is from West African, most commonly used in geomancy to have the meaning, “Friendly to thieves". I’m sure I don’t need to go into why that name makes quite a bit of sense. That being said, it is a marvelously useful thing.”
Pulling herself up on the edge of her desk, she continued, “Curiously enough, so to is the charm to which Alohomora functions as the counter. No.. Not the Anti-Alohomora Charm, but Colloportus. The Locking Spell. You there,” she pointed to a reedy young boy, sitting in the front row, “It’s Malcolm, right?”
The skinny boy, his face full of freckles looked from his book, nodding enthusiastically, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Would you be so kind…” And reaching behind her, she grabbed a box, within which something metal rattled against itself. A peek inside revealed an odd assortment of locks, of every shape and size, bronze and gold and silver and iron, “As to hand these out? One to each student, please?” As Malcolm took the box and began to pass the locks out, Violet slid off the edge of the desk and returned to the front of the room, producing her wand again. Her fingers curled around the length of chestnut, gingerly gripping the hilt and holding it up, her mouth curved into a smile.
“Now then… let’s review the wand motions, and we’ll practice both charms. Once we’ve mastered the motions, we’ll see about practicing on the locks you’ve been given. Together with me, if you would. Wands out and...”
In tandem with the rest of the class at the prompting of the professor, Evelynn motioned her wand in the sort of backwards 'S' of the Unlocking Charm. Then again. A faint line creased the spot between her brows. After so many years of writing an actual 'S', her hand wasn't quite cooperating, always wanting to move by default in the wrong direction. Thus, her first few motions were far from perfect. At the very least, however, it seemed that the months of practice with various wand movements had had some positive benefit. She finally god the smooth motion down after a dozen or so practice trials, just in time for the class to move onto the verbal practice.
"AlohoMOra," came the resounding sound of a score or more voices. And then again.
By the time that the class had drilled the wand movement and pronunciation of the two spells to sufficiently acceptable levels, Evelynn was more than ready to get some actual practice in. There were many spells from the class syllabus that had caught the redhead's eye, and the more practical, the better. This pair, however, had been particularly enticing. In every way, they spoke of secrets. Hiding them. Revealing them. Both were applicable. With Evelynn's new journal, she would be more than keen to learn how to keep it under lock and key, so to speak. And on the flip side, she could easily envision needing to sneak into somewhere during the Liberation Club's efforts to find Mr. Potter's wand.
Cypress wand temporarily forgotten in the light grip of her left hand, she peered down at the lock that had been handed out to her earlier in the lesson, and reach for it. It wasn't like the ones she was accustomed to — with a dial of fifty or so numbers that you would turn first one way, then the other, and finally back again for a three number combination. Nor was it like the typical padlock where a tiny brass key would insert into the bottom. This one seemed right out of a fantasy book. It was heavy in her hand. Rough. Maybe iron, she suspect, with just a hint of rust at the base of the loop; and the keyhole in the flat facing side was much larger than any she had seen back home, except for the antique china cabinet in which her mother kept the alcohol and their nicer serving dishes.
Placing it back upon the table with a gentle thud, she slid it into the perfect centre and squared it. She took a moment to clear her mind with a meditative breath, and then envisioned the lock popping open.
"Alohomora," she said firmly, looping her wand while pointed at the lock.
Nothing.
"Alohomora," she stated again, careful to enunciate clearly.
Nothing.
Evelynn frowned. She had grown quite accustomed to spells failing to function for her on the first, or even second attempt, but it still bothered her. It fed into the feelings of inadequacy that would creep back into her mind unbidden, whispering hurtful lies about her having no right to be there.
"AlohoMOra!" Evelynn said again, more earnestly this time, cutting off the darkening train of thought before it could get a hold.
There was a faint sputter and a click. Evelynn's heart leapt and she flashed out a hand for the lock to pry open the loop. It remained firmly locked into place. "What..?" Confusion flashed over her features. She'd been so certain it had been successful.
But then, it dawned on her as someone else's wand nearby did the same thing. The sound had come from the wand's tip. Not the lock. She set her lock back upon her desk, but her grey eyes remained wandering the class, curious to know how many others were struggling as she was.
1 Mar 2020, 18:37
Quite Contrary
In all honesty, Hazel was still confused as to why certain motions were linked to certain spells. It certainly seemed as though the word itself would be enough. As far in to the winter term they were, she just couldn't get the perplexity out of her head. Later down the line, when she was further immersed in enchanted culture, she might think of disabled wizards and witches who couldn't speak or something to that effect.
Too lost in her thoughts as she fiddled with the length of wood on her desk, Hazel startled when Malcolm placed a lock in front of her. In picking it up, the metal was heavy - nearly bigger than her hand, it was most similar to holding a rock the size of her palm. The only difference was the function, shape, and its gold coloring. In a fit of curiosity, Hazel reached for her wand, and poked the end tip into the keyhole, wondering what it might do. She'd learned to pick locks at some point in her life - though sneaking out to get food from her locked room was really all she'd used it for. The tip of her wand was not slender enough to fit far into the lock, but the tip managed, and Hazel wiggled it for good measure. To her dissatisfaction, there was no spark of magic.
She startled again when the entire class droned alohomora, and Hazel hurriedly caught the tip of the practice with a belated "-mora," and proceeded to smolder in embarrassment as her cheekbones and ears flushed. She'd gotten distracted, and had missed the majority of Professor Vernatis's last direction, which was mortifying. It wasn't the first time, but it was no less embarrassing then every other incident before it.
It wasn't as if she'd heard nothing, though; she knew what they were doing and the origin point of the word and what it was used for. She wasn't one for riddles, but she had easily connected the riddle on the door with the syllabus lesson and figured it was probably a key. Furthermore, she could prove her focus in the beginning by retracing her thought process of the origin of the word; at the time, she remembered thinking that alohomora didn't sound very African, but she didn't know African, so...it was a fruitless argument.
Kicking her feet, Hazel decided that watching her neighbors would be better than admitting to the Professor that she didn't know what they were doing. It seemed fairly simple, after all, as she watched the red-headed girl beside her perform the motions with heightening ease. After, it just seemed to be the pronunciation of the word.
Hazel blinked, picking up her wand. She had a loathsome connection with the piece of wood, and spells often backfired on her. Professors had given her the advice of "Try to say it with more confidence, Miss Caelum." But that didn't seem to work, either. But there was little else she could do...so persistence was her only option.
Her first several motions were blocky and unsure, her frustration preemptive and mounting. Not particularly because of her practice, but because she knew what was coming when she would try to use the spell on the lock. Still, she stubbornly stayed on her task, practicing the hand motion until her wrist was nearly sore. Slowly, it improved, and hesitantly, Hazel moved on to recite the incantation. She honestly only practiced it as many times as she heard her classmates practiced, because she didn't find much use in repeating a word that seemed so simple.
With a sigh, she pointed her wand at the lock, and said, "Alohomora."
When nothing happened, Hazel felt a resurgence of irritation and familiarity. She tried again: "Alohomora!"
After several more tries, Hazel was nearly white-knuckling her wand; she tried one more time, and there was a sputter and a clicking noise from the tip of her wand, but the lock did not move. Hazel made a sound of deep annoyance, gritting her teeth. She looked over to see Evelynn looking around, and asked, "Did you get it to work?" With a sullen cross of her arms.
now take me home where i belong
5 Mar 2020, 09:13
Quite Contrary
Interacting with @Hazel Caelum
The sputtering clicking noise, it seemed, had come from the table next to her. Evelynn had localised the source as belonging to a dark-skinned Hufflepuff. The redhead had watched her furtively for a moment, peering from the corner of her eye, to see if she might make another attempt at the cast. The expression of annoyance — that very much resonated with how Evelynn felt internally — suggested that was not likely to be the case. Perhaps selfishly, there was a certain level of comfort in the fact that there was another struggling just as much as she was.
It was something that still nagged at the redhead: the inability to easily grasp the casting of novel spells. Previously, in the mundane world, everything academic had come relatively easily to Evelynn. The need for remedial lessons or additional practice was a foreign concept. In fact, it was a point of personal pride that she be able to hold a position of superiority in intellect among her peers, as everything else seemed to evade her. Granted, she had not been so ignorant to assume this ease would have carried forward into her career in the magical world, but she had at least held some hope that perhaps she was a natural. Unfortunately, it seemed it would be only flight that came naturally to her, although she supposed she should be content with that. No doubt, there were those who, like she, had come from the non-magical world and struggled to grasp anything at all.
Evelynn was reflecting on this notion, her scrutinising grey eyes wandering around the rest of her classmates once again when someone asked a question. Her attention flickering back curiously, she found herself catching the doe-eyed gaze of the very same girl sitting next to her whose wand had previously sputtered.
"Uh…" Caught slightly off guard, and more than a little embarrassed to be caught in a position of anything less than perfection, Evelynn hesitated. "…no," she admitted after the brief pause. Then, with a sigh and a condemning glare at the lock, she dropped her elbow to the surface of her desk, cupped her cheek, and tapped the hunk of junk with the tip of her wand. "I'm beginning to think it's magically rusted shut..."
"What about you?" she asked, sliding her gaze back to the Hufflepuff. She already knew the answer, of course, but she didn't need to point that out. "Any luck with yours?"
21 Mar 2020, 03:33
Quite Contrary
"No, nothing." The girl bit out, irritated at herself and her objective. Her energy was focused on blaming the wand, her bitter dislike for the magical object apparent.
Some students cradled their wand; Hazel purposely shoved hers in the bottom of her bag, hoping it would break. Then again, most students were properly fitted to their wands. She hadn't a clue why Ollivander would match her with an inappropriate wand. It had felt so right in the shop: her arms weighed down by an unfamiliar and heavy cloak, a foreign smell of old wood and moss filling her nose, and an ancient looking man in front of her. Lights had glowed, the wood felt warm in her hands. It had been so right.
It wasn't shocking, though; Hazel was used to being denied nice and easy things. Usually, if they were difficult, it was by her own fault and could be fixed with logic. Here, the magic spoke and the enchanted folk listened. If the magic wasn't obeying, what did that say about her?
"Back home, if something was locked, we picked it open." Hazel said finally, reaching for her lock and picking at some of the rust with her finger nail. For good measure, she reached into her hair and picked loose a bobby pin, ultimately letting a curl spring in a wild direction. Tongue pressed against her teeth, Hazel wedged the pin into the lock opening, feeling for the familiar mechanisms. It wasn't like her door lock at home, but it couldn't be too different, right?
After a minute or two, she made another frustrated noise, finding no luck in unlocking it with human techniques. "It's magically locked," She announced, sullen.
In reinserting the pin back into her hair, Hazel felt a sudden flush of stupidity overcome her. Of course it was magically locked: this was a magical classroom with magical lessons and magical students. Hazel groaned to herself and rubbed her hands over her face. "Never mind; of course it's magic." She sighed, deciding not to make eye contact with the other girl.
She had no way of knowing where the girl was from, or what her background was. She probably thought Hazel was stupid, though; trying to unlock an enchanted lock with a muggle bobby pin. Some part of her knew that they were both in the same hole, but it was hard to look in her direction without expecting some response of you can't be serious! or a different judgement. Because yes, she was! If magic didn't work, Hazel's first instinct was to move to old habits. Why not?
Still, that wasn't the only reason she wouldn't look at the other girl. The redhead had an air of maturity about her. Hazel was twelve; older than most first years, but she felt like a baby sitting next to the Gryffindor. There was the child aspect that they all had - in the pout, the manner, the eyes. However, her mouth, her posture, and other things spoke of a higher intelligence that Hazel could only ever dream of achieving. It was intimidating, to say in the least, and Hazel wanted to shrink into her seat.
Still, she risked a glance, and asked, "Do you know what's wrong?"
now take me home where i belong
6 Apr 2020, 10:25
Quite Contrary
Interacting with @Hazel Caelum
O, how the little lioness could relate. The way in which the Hufflepuff girl spat out the reply, as though the words themselves were bile upon her tongue, spoke deeply to the way Evelynn felt about this particular lesson. Sure, she should be used to it by now. Rarely was there a time, despite how much she might long for it, that she could actually master a spell on the first attempt. Or even the first lesson. Generally, it took her hours of dedicated practice before her wand finally acquiesced to her whim to produce the intended effect. Although, once it had, rarely did it fail her.
Perhaps that was the better outcome anyway. Often, she would see her peers succeed well before herself, only to fail later for seemingly no reason at all, accusing their wands of being 'temperamental'. If a wand could be such a thing, Evelynn had never known it. Still, she couldn't help but feeling slightly envious, wishing that her own would be even just a little quicker on the uptake.
A breathy scoff peeled from the Gryffindor's nostrils, her gaze shifting from her own wand back over to the tanned student next to her. "Same here," she admitted. "Mother doesn't know that, though," she added, lips pulling into a bit of a smug smirk. Her eyes trailed the wake of the bobby-pin through the motions put through by its master, more than a little curious to see if it would actually work. "But I found a set of lock-picks among her things in the garage once. I didn't know what they were at first. I actually thought they were some sort of tool, but my cousin showed me how to use them."
"No luck, eh?" Evelynn asked as the frizzle-haired girl uttered a sound of frustration, only to answer with the negative a moment later.
"It's magically locked. Never mind; of course it's magic."
"I would have been a bit surprised if it were that easy..." Came Evelynn's reply, though not in any way patronizing. In fact, she was a little disappointed. It would have been more than a little satisfying to see the puzzle solved in an unintended manner, something she always enjoyed doing when she played her favourite table-top game with her mother — not that she was able to outwit the woman, generally, but she still tried.
"Ah well," she lamented with a small sigh, raising her wand again for another attempt at the spell. No luck.
"Do you know what's wrong?"
Lips pursed and brows furrowed without so much a side-ways glance at the girl. A pregnant pause spanned the air between them as Evelynn mentally chewed upon the question. She would very much have liked to answer, 'yes'. To be able to explain in great detail exactly what was wrong, and then to demonstrate the way in which to fix it. Unfortunately... had she known the answer, the two of them wouldn't have been having this conversation in the first place.
"No," she finally said, with just about as much bitterness as that very word had been spoken by her peer only moments earlier. "I wish I did. This is... irritating."
With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair, arms folding with a renewed sense of scrutiny in her gaze, eyes boring holes into her own lock as though willing it to open by sheer force of her psyche.
"Enunciation. Precision. Focus. Theoretically, that's all that is needed. Maybe we're not focused enough. I'm sure we're saying it right. And I think we have the wand movement right; that's hard to know for sure sometimes, though, without seeing it from an outside perspective. I sometimes like to practice in front of a mirror so I can see it from another angle and tighten up the movements a bit," she rambled on. "But... maybe we're just not focused enough."
Another pause as she silently considered her own words and how to go about changing the outcome. After a few seconds, however, her expression softened as she peeled her gaze away from her lock and over to the side.
"Maybe it's the wands," she questioned. "I've heard some students say that wands can have a mind of their own and choose not to obey. What core and wood type is yours? The name's Decipio, by the way," she offered, straightening to twist her torso slightly in her seat. "Evelynn Decipio." She extended her right hand towards the as-yet-stranger, wand remaining in her dominant left. "Nice to meet you."