Cassiopeia walked into the classroom, straight backed and chin high. She was not about to let these boys intimidate her. She faltered slightly as she saw the desks, wondering where to sit but decided upon a desk at the front right of the room, near the window. She sat, watching the teacher.
Carmina held on to her bag tightly, with whitening knuckles, as she entered one of the numerous classrooms in Hogwarts. There were no girls, it seemed, in her year that she could find, and once again, she had ended up stranded with tears in her eyes.
How does one find their way around this confounded place? This was one of the last resorts. She walked up to the professor whom she had seen at the Feast, and although he was busy scanning the classroom, quickly filling up with students, she dared to venture a word.
Tiberius looked down in the direction of the voice that called to him and found a girl who not only looked far too young to attend his class, but half scared out of her wits judging by the lack of coloring in her knuckles. His voice when he replied was void of emotion, one way or another, for if he didn't reply indifferently, the slight aggravation he felt would surely compound in his words and cause the poor thing undue distress. If he were to distress a student, it would be intentional, and not at all little.
"Got yourself turned around I assume? Surely you're lost if you've stumbled into my classroom." He placed a hand on the girl's shoulder to lead her back towards the door. "Tell me what class you are looking for and we'll go from there."
Carmina swallowed her nervousness.
"Well, sir, I am trying to find my Potions class. Someone told me it was in this direction, but the stairs which I had taken shifted upwards instead of downwards and now... I am lost."
She looked up anxiously.
"Pray tell, were the stairs you're kind guide directed you to, located in the entrance hall or among those in the main stairwell?"
Tiberius had a feeling the boys had wasted no time in making their new classmates into the butt of their jokes. With Potions being in the dungeons, this girl was far from being remotely close to her destination. At this distant, she could run the whole way there and still not make it to class in time.
He knew she'd need either a map or a personal guide, and he hadn't the time to take her there personally, besides, Avery would find it far too amusing and he didn't feel like entertaining him. No, regardless of the reason she ended up there, he'd need to conjure a map of some sort. How bloody wonderful.
At least it was a question she could answer.
"It was in the main stairwell, sir." Carmina managed to say. The professor before her wore an expressionless face, but inside, she was feeling more nervous than ever.
As if he would have been wrong.
Still, it was five minutes to the start of class and he was now with a lost witch a good seven minute run from the dungeons, if the stairs would be obliging on the return trip. With a somewhat muffled huff, he pulled a blank scrap of parchment from his robes pocket along with a quill. "Potions is in the dungeons, by way of the staircase in the entrance hall. The main stairwell takes you to all other levels. Whomever directed you to begin there gave you false directions," he said while scribbling away on the parchment, a touch of annoyance in his voice, not so much from the girl as the situation.
Finishing, he looked back at the girl, "Intentionally most likely." Pocketing the quill, he held the map out to her, on it a clear path drawn leading her back to the entrance hall and down into the dungeons, a few landmarks as well, knowing the female tendacy to lean on visual cues. "Show this to Professor Graves upon your arrival and he may chose to be leniant."
Carmina nodded fervently as the professor handed her a map, clearly delinated in ink. She gave a small smile to the imposing figure before her, thanked him again, and hesitating, made the slightest of curtseys before she ran out of the room with her bag in tow.
Oh, Merlin. She could hardly stifle the tears. The boys had directed her wrongly, she knew it now. All the girls in the room had seemed sympathetic, she thought, but that boy who had entered had said nothing. She'd seen him at the table yesterday. So... for a lack of a better word from Disraeli's books, dashing. But he had not looked at her once. She half-wondered what she had been thinking as she quickened her walk towards the dungeons.
Eoghan had taken his time getting to the Arithmancy classroom. Course, the reason was all the lost girls roaming the corridors like lost kittens. It never failed, he'd walk a few yards and be asked for directions. At first, he obliged, but after a while he had tired of it to the point he would point in the general direction and walk on. He wasn't normally so impolite (in his book), but when iritated, etiquette tended to get little to no consideration. Had he stood around giving detailed directions to them all, he'd be late for class and with Deveraux, that was never a good idea.
So, coming upon the classroom, he found Deveraux in the doorway with some witch clearly not a third year. Rolling his eyes, he silently slipped past the pair, hearing the professor ask where the stairs she was directed to were located, and he grinned holding back a chuckle. Sounds like another guy had been helpful... in getting the poor thing lost. He doubted things would remain this innocent, especially with the Slytherins.
Taking his seat, he looked around and found an alarming number of girls taking the class, but thankfully, he found a seat not surrounded by them. He wasn't sure if any of these girls would prove to be chatty or not, but he'd rather not find out in close proximity.
Alzbeta knew she was late for class and she felt her stomach twisting with fear as she hurried down the hall, but when she saw the professor speaking to a student in the hall, she relaxed slightly. At least class hadn't started yet.
Recognizing the younger girl as Carmina, the girl she had invited to eat meals with, she sent the girl a sympathetic look and squeezed past the pair of them to get into the classroom. Just her luck, nearly all the seats were full. Up at the front, an older girl was sitting at one of the desks, and there was an empty seat next to her. Alzbeta hurried down the aisle and slid into the seat. "Hello," she whispered to the girl nervously. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
2004-08-18 04:37 pm (UTC)
Let's begin, shall we? (as if you have any real say...)
With the lost little slip of a witch scurrying on her way back towards the dungeons, Tiberius turned his attention back to the classroom and ths students assembled in it. Unlike some of the other electives teachers, Deveraux chose to combine his classes, which despite the greater size, some 40 or so now, he felt it best in the interest of his own well being. He abhorred the idea of reviewing material at each level for some ignorant witch, so joining them together would serve to instantly provide knowledgeable, if not unwilling, tutors. Even in this setting he could very well differentiate for the more advanced students, so no real harm. Though some of the boys might think differently.
Making his way back to the podium he immediately began, the returning students taking the cue and silencing, while a few witches and third years didn't take the hint at first. "I am Professor Deveraux," he paused a few steps from the podium and looked at each offender in turn until the silence that fell made it possible for one to hear their own heartbeat. "And this is Arithmancy." Reaching the oak stand, he took a hold of his role and with the enchantment on it, scanned it to see the glowing names of those present. "If this is not your intended class, then I suggest you excuse yourself and run like the dickens for I will send you with no note." Seeing that all were accounted for, he quietly slid the parchment back behind his text.
"For my advanced students, I know you may find this combined setting less than desireable, but I'm afraid we are all being expected to adjust to recent changes." Here, his eyes fell on group of bewildered looking witches only a few feet in front of him. "So," he continued, casting his eyes back up to boys in the back of the large auditorium like classroom, "let us begin, shall we."
A flick of his wand towards the board behind him and the chalk sprung to life, ready to record his words on the board behind them. "Arithmancy... often described as a form of divination by numbers, and for the most part, wrongly so, is actually the branch of magic concerned with the magical properties of numbers. Some predict by them, others, like myself, use it to better understand persons, places, and events." His words flowed without hesitation, or pause, and without an outline by which to follow. With Tiberius, he taught as if pouring out the knowledge in his head.
"Now several have utilized Arithmancy in one form or another, and even a sect of Muggle religion still uses on to this day. For my 6th and 7th year students, your first assignment is to describe for me in detail when this occured and plausable reasons for it's development among the unmagical sect." Now he was pacing back and forth, his train of thought on full steam and he had no plans on slowing it down. "Now, currently, we assign the letters of the alphabet to corresponding numbers. 4th and 5th year students, your assignment is to identify in detail, which ancient civilization our modern alphabet has been derived from and when did said civilization begin practicing Arithmancy."
Pausing his grinding a path in the wooden floor, he grinned, knowing the next would provide groans of disappointment. "For today, all 3rd years... and witches... must work with an upper level student and compose their first number chart. The basic chart is numbered 1-9 beginning with A under 1 and I under 9, then repeating the pattern until all 26 letters are accounted for." Oh, the delightful glares coming from his 6th year boys!
OOC: Alrightee. There you go. If you can't find someone to work with (you can be in groups of more than 2 btw) then you can write an anonymous person, just pretend they refused to give a name or something. Have fun... and do keep the hexing to a minimum. *grin*
2004-08-19 05:08 am (UTC)
Re: Let's begin, shall we? (as if you have any real say...)
Alzbeta glanced around the room. She only knew witches, which meant she was going to have to introduce herself to some perfect stranger--male stranger!--to complete this assignment.
A few chairs behind her, she saw a young man sitting alone. She slid out of her seat and walked down the aisle to the desk next to him. "Would you mind if we were partners?"
"Would you mind if we were partners?"
Eoghan had barely managed to finish jotting down his assignment when the soft voice met his ears and he looked up from his parchment with a look of half disappointed resignation on his face. He knew better than to cross Deveraux's wishes, and despite his slightly more than biased pessimisstic attitude towards the girls, he knew he might as well just work with one standing by the desk next to his, waiting for his answer.
With a small nod, he sighed slightly and replied, "No, have a seat," and motioned to the empty seat beside him. In the back of his mind, Eoghan was doing his best to think positive, that this witch would prove more pleasant company then his sister, but then he didn't want to set himself up for an even greater dissapointment should she be just as annoyingly liberal and flambouyant. Still, he tried to sound as pleasant as he could. Maurene was always easily set off by the tone she always accused him of taking with her.
"M'name's Eoghan, by the way... Riley," he said, his inherited accent slipping out as usual as he pulled out a piece of blank parchment.
Well, his reaction was better than she expected--he didn't turn her away, nor laugh at her, and his look of disappointment was quickly covered by bland pleasantry. This was much better than she had expected, in fact.
She smiled politely and sat down, taking out her freshly sharpened quill. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Alzbeta Aglionby."
2004-08-22 09:40 am (UTC)
Re: Let's begin, shall we? (as if you have any real say...)
Ebenezer leaned back in his chair, pulled out some parchment and his writing kit, and scribbled down a few notes about the Merkabah sect. Founded 13th Century... Jewish... Throne chariot... Well, thought Ebenezer, he'd give his left arm for a chariot to get him to heaven, or indeed anywhere else that the girl looking plaintively towards him wasn't.
"Can I help?"