Lease this WebApp and get rid of the ads.
Amelia Layne, Aladren
No, no, no indeed.
Wed Feb 28, 2018 22:03

Amelia was a long way from done with her fifth year, but she was already thinking ahead two years, and she was increasingly unsure she was going to meet family expectations in the RATS courseload department. The sheer amount of pedantic fiddling - formulas and calculation and mixing tiny bits of this with tiny bits of that to see if there was a tiny bit of change - involved in more advanced Transfiguration and Potions, the sacred hard-academic subjects to someone like her grandfather and the latter a necessity if she was going to be Uncle Geoff’s heiress, just did nothing for her. She wanted to drop them both and take a trifecta of Charms, Defense, and Herbology, choose one of those to focus on in college, and then enter the civil service in either one of the more action-oriented Charms departments - reversing accidents or the like - or else help Uncle Geoff expand his business to the supply side or something like that. Granddad, however, would probably just as soon she take up dating as see her drop the two specific classes she didn’t really want to carry on with.

The funny thing was, the actual plan for what to do with herself was something he’d probably be…okay with, anyway. He had accepted Lionel not even going to college because Lionel was at least working with Uncle Geoff, who was respected enough as a potioneer for that to look decent on a resume later, when Granddad probably assumed he would have bullied Lionel into applying to college later on a I-was-poor-and-had-to-save-up excuse. Amelia’s plans involved immediate higher education and respectable options that would open doors for her. The thing was, though, that Granddad would just want the cachet of Potions and Transfiguration - or at least one of them - on that transcript. Lionel had always been a bit of a disappointment, a lost cause - not like Granddad, no-one knew where he came from. Amelia, on the other hand, was as much a source of pride for her grandfather as the illegitimate, probably half-blood at best daughter of his own Squib daughter possibly could be. Granddad talked to her sometimes about how she would surely do as well as Uncle Geoff had in life. Not as well as Aunt Helena or Alicia, he never mentioned that, but definitely as well as Uncle Geoff. And it didn’t help that in Beginners, Amelia had liked Potions, back when it had been more following directions and getting praise and good grades as a result. That she’d lose interest now that she got into the maths was not something Granddad would be happy about at all; the harder something was, the harder one was to try to do it, and never mind if one had a perfectly good plan that would let one get ahead by going around it instead.

She stared gloomily at the box in front of her as Professor O’Malley explained today’s example of why Amelia was contemplating dropping her class after next year. Fiddle with doses until she got it right, then do math. With no starting point to give them a nudge in the right direction about where to even start with the math. Amelia knew she could do this, she just didn’t really want to do this.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one. She jumped at the sound of shattering glass, followed by the sound of a loudly exclaiming Winston Pierce. He had reason; one of his sleeves looked seriously messed up, and Amelia couldn’t suppress a giggle at the sight, even though the situation did not look well at all - it looked like vials had just exploded all over everywhere. “I’m guessing someone really doesn’t like one of them,” she commented to her neighbor, who she recognized as the new Teppenpaw prefect. “Or someone’s really determined to get us all in group detention,” she added, thinking of all the weird stuff that had happened in classes so far this year.

“Yeah,” she said when Georgia proposed a research method. “That’s pretty much what I think my uncle does when he’s experimenting with stuff - he uses a lot of fancy words for it, but I think that’s just to sound more impressive.” She turned to a clean sheet of paper in her notebook as Georgia asked for a quill. “Yeah, sure,” she said. She began rummaging for her spare quills - she always carried a couple of spares in case of incidents like this, or her own one breaking and her not wanting to take the time to sharpen it right then, or anything like that - to match action to words, but frowned as they failed to appear in her bag.

“This is weird,” she said. “I always have a couple of extra quills. Oh, well, I guess we really only….”

This sudden hesitancy in her voice was not the result of uncertainty about whether or not she and Georgia could do the job with one quill. Her hesitation came from uncertainty about her current perception of reality. She’d had a quill out. She knew she had because she always got her paper and quill out before class started. Crotalus influence from her grandfather, she guessed; she liked to be organized. Now, however, her quill was nowhere to be found. Tentatively, she looked around her desk, through her notebook and under the desk and under her chair, stood up to examine the seat of her chair, even peeked around the frog box and the vials, but no quill.

“What the heck?” she asked, not so much Georgia as the universe. “Where’s my quill?” The last option she could think of was that someone had nicked it while she was rummaging. In that case, the only way she was getting it back was if they had stuck it in the frog box as a practical joke. Unthinkingly, she opened the box, only for the small frog within to make a mad bid for freedom. “Oh my God!” she shrieked, throwing up her hands as she thought for a moment that its leap was going to take it straight into her face, but it brushed her elbow instead. She jerked away, not wanting it to fall into her lap, then realized how stupid that was - it was going to get away.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she chanted, standing rapidly and drawing her wand and looking for the frog. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, do you see it anywhere, I’m so sorry - “

  • Nah to the ah to the no no no [Affects everyone]Georgia Kirkly, Teppenpaw, Fri Feb 23 21:48
    Georgia had had her share of crappy years. There had been her parents’ messy divorce. There had been her best friend quitting school. And she had really thought things were starting to get better for ... more
    • No, no, no indeed. — Amelia Layne, Aladren, Wed Feb 28 22:03
      • Oops?Georgia, Fri Mar 2 20:50
        “Just glad it’s not my problem this time,” Georgia muttered, when Amelia commented on the explosions. “Professor Skies asked me to keep a prefectly eye on Jozua,” she added, in case Amelia had missed ... more
        • That's a mildish way of putting it.Amelia, Mon Mar 5 20:49
          Amelia winced in sympathy when Georgia described the situation Professor Skies had put her in. “No kidding,” she said when Georgia stated it had been ridiculous. “I mean, I get she was annoyed that... more
          • I didn't mean to! Georgia, Tue Mar 6 06:33
            Nope. Quills did not up and walk. And Georgia’s bag was a mess sometimes and it sometimes took her forever to find what she was looking for. She half convinced herself that Amelia going through he... more
            • And yet...Amelia, Wed Mar 7 13:47
              Amelia nodded absently, only half-listening, as Georgia said she was sure no-one had taken all of Amelia’s quills on purpose. There wasn’t, she thought, really much way to take quills out of her bag... more
Click here to receive daily updates