|
|
Post by professor thomas barnes on Apr 13, 2011 18:12:50 GMT -5
 Most professors were able to host their office hours in their classrooms. Unfortunately, Thomas was not one of those professors. The north tower was just too far away to expect the students to march up there spontaneously when they had a question. It was located in an awkward part of the castle, far away from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts life and up quite a few flights of stairs. It just wasn’t practical for office hours, especially on those nights when Thomas was also the professor on duty. It didn’t escape Thomas’ notice that the number of incidences of magic in the hallways, usually related to duels, was increasing. Students could kill each other in the amount of time it took a prefect to run to the north tower and fetch Thomas.
Sometimes that rule that outlawed apparating inside Hogwarts could be such a hassle. If Thomas could apparate inside Hogwarts, well, he wouldn’t be sitting in classroom eleven right now, with a briefcase bulging at the seams thanks to all the essays he had to mark, and he would have been sitting in his comfortable office chair and writing at his favourite desk instead of giving himself a backache in classroom eleven’s inferior equipment.
Also annoying? The sheer number of couples who wandered in, looked spell struck at the sight of a professor, and then slowly backed out. At first it had been incredibly hilarious, but now he was left wondering at the imagination of Hogwarts’ students. Surely classroom eleven wasn’t the place to snog. What about the broom closets? Or behind the tapestries? No, it seemed like every time Thomas held office hours at least one couple stumbled into the classroom. Awkward.
Thomas didn’t do so hot with awkward moments. Most days, he used up most of his social skills navigating the aftermath of his visions, and dealing with his students. It was all incredibly exhausting for the introvert, and since his office hours and hall monitor-type duties, he just couldn’t stop using the muggle term for that, came in the evenings, his patience was usually stretched thin by that point. The snogging students were the worst, and Thomas often found himself discreetly coughing and studying his papers until the students left. It was best not to acknowledge these things.
But, it was for the benefit of the students, and Thomas, though he gripped, did love teaching and the students. So, if it prevented Slytherin and Gryffindor death matches in the hallway, and meant that the vandalism in the toilets stayed an infrequent occurrence, he could sit in classroom eleven and mark some papers until 11pm.
439 words Tagged: Oh, you know... Anyone who feels like chatting with a professor... A student with a question, a prefect reporting a disaster, a student looking for advice. Whatever! |
|
|
|
Post by effie teagan wilde on Apr 13, 2011 18:17:34 GMT -5
  The days had managed to grow familiar to Effie. She felt a bit less new and out of place around Hogwarts now. She’d been there a few fair weeks and had a routine and knew how to avoid the other professors in the staff lounge. That was how Effie liked things, quiet. It may have seemed a bit silly, but part of her was still intimidated by people like Professor Mcgonagall. The moment the woman had suggested that Effie call her Minerva, Eff knew. She knew that she would never, ever be able to look at certain people as just fellow humans. No, Professor Mcgonagall would always be a professor to Effie. The same went for Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Slughorn, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick. They were the select bunch that Effie couldn’t let grow on her. They brought her back to an awkward teenage phase where she rebelled slightly. That made her laugh. She felt too young to be working at the school.
And then there were some who she viewed in an entirely different light. Mostly one… Philip. Effie couldn’t help but glow slightly at the mere thought of the man. She felt a familiar fluttering in her stomach and had a sense of a school girl crush that had turned into her reality. Effie could get lost in daydreams of Philip for the rest of the term and be entirely satisfied with that alone. She had so many little things to look forward to because of that man. Just catching his eye left Effie uplifted.
She was lost among just one of those daydreams as she wandered the fifth floor corridor. She wore a plain, navy colored dress beneath her staff robes. Her shoes were a pair of matching navy flats with brassy looking buckles on them. Her thick, dark hair was pulled back in a tight braid down her back. She’d left her witch’s hat back in the library. Effie had never been fond of school hats. She wasn’t sure why. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a puddle of spilled water outside the washroom door and realized how distant she appeared. Effie walked with a certain grace about her, but today, that grace seemed nothing more than an illusion that others would quickly see through. She shook her head slightly, wondering if she was having an off day.
That was when she looked up and spotted an unfamiliar and older girl hunched over a wastebasket ahead. Effie wondered what the girl was doing out in the halls wandering. Sure, some teachers had office hours, but this girl didn’t look like that was what she was up to. Something about the way the brunette snickered slightly and teetered as she leaned over the wastebasket made Effie think there was something very, very wrong going on.
Eff took a step closer and the girl jerked suddenly and froze. Effie froze too, wondering why they were standing still all of a sudden. The girl made a strange little squeaking noise, like some kind of small animal, and then she looked ready to fight or flight. ”You know, standing there won’t make any difference….” Effie started and the girl was off like a shot. She watched as the young woman dashed down the hall. She wondered if it was her duty to chase after her, but figured it wasn’t the end of the world. One of the Prefects would catch her down the line and she’d lose house points. That was enough, right?
And then Effie realized what the girl had been doing. The wastebasket was ablaze with fire. Yes, real, actual, extremely hot fire. And it was tipping over. The girl must have bumped it in her dash away. Effie panicked, she’d never dealt with a school fire before! Magic! She was a witch! Effie reached for her wand, which she usually kept tucked in her robes! It wasn’t there! ”Shit!” Effie whispered, her panic growing more intense. She must have left it on her desk in the library. She didn’t think she’d be gone that long. How was she supposed to know this would happen?
She could feel a sense of dread coming over her. What if she caught the whole school on fire? She’d be fired! Ironic, right? And Dumbledore would never forgive her! It would be all her fault! Effie Wilde, the Hogwarts Destroyer! That’s what they’d call her down the line. Amidst her panic, she flung the classroom door open to try and find help and spotted the somewhat familiar face of a professor grading papers.
”Fire!!! There’s a fire! Could you please put it out?” The words seemed to flood through Effie’s lips in a somewhat rambled state of disarray. She realized she’d flailed her arms and her panic was much too apparent. She’d really stepped in it this time.
|
|
|
|
Post by professor thomas barnes on Apr 14, 2011 20:10:32 GMT -5
Thomas was in the middle of marking what had to be the worst description of the history of palm reading he had ever read. It was utterly disappointing. The student had handed in less than half the length Thomas had asked for, and clearly hadn’t read anything at all on the history of palm reading. Though an interesting account, Thomas couldn’t bring himself to pass someone who insisted that palm reading was only thirty years old and was the result of a drunk Seer trying to impress a girl. Sure, it was an amusing account, but was highly inappropriate, not to mention insulting to the craft. It had far too many curse words for an academic essay. This student would have to get a D. For dreadful.
Should he forward the paper to Slughorn, so he could take further disciplinary action? Thomas debated the pros and cons of that as he scratched some scathing comments at the bottom of the parchment. He was deep in thought, and although he noted some sort of commotion right outside the classroom, Thomas merely dismissed it as students on their way back to their dormitories. Instead of investigating, or even glancing towards the door, the Divination professor wrote a large ‘D’ on the paper, and moved on the next one.
He was getting a headache, a sure sign that a difficult vision was on the way. Thomas didn’t usually get headaches with his visions, but today he had successfully managed to stave off three episodes. That was a success percentage Thomas rarely managed to obtain, so there was little wonder his head was starting to pound. He put down the quill, there was no fighting off this vision, and he didn’t want to splash was appeared to be a decent paper with ink. It was unfortunate that all Hell decided to break loose as the vision overtook Thomas.
Thomas’ face grew eerily blank as Effie flung open the door and addressed him. His gaze was unfocused, and though Thomas was looking at Effie, it was clear that he wasn’t seeing her at all. Then, instead of responding at all to her, he started to speak in a quiet, zoned out voice. “You’ll want to be early for breakfast tomorrow. The house elves are going to slip up and serve pancakes for the first twenty minutes.” He stared in Effie’s direction, unblinking, for few beats, then his whole body sagged.
“Ugh,” the Seer rubbed the bridge of his nose then shook his head vigorously to clear the cobwebs. He hated the stronger visions. They were never worth the trouble they caused him physically, he never saw anything useful, but it hurt all the same. But, Thomas couldn’t wallow in self-pity for too long. Because... Was that... Fire? Did he smell something burning? For the first time Thomas scanned his surroundings and spotted the new librarian standing in his door way. What was she doing there?
“Don’t you smell that? Something’s on fire!” Thomas leapt to his feet, grabbing his wand from the desk top as he strode quickly past Effie into the hallway. Sure enough, the curtains around a large window that over looked the pitch were on fire. The source appeared to be a tipped over bin.
“Dammit, those bloody criminals,” Thomas stared in disbelief at the mess in front of him, running his hand through his hair as he tried to think on how to stop the fire. It wasn’t going anywhere, not unless the student had managed to transfigure the surrounding stone wall into wood. What was wrong with this bunch? Not one day went by without a duel in the corridors, or a party, or someone mixing an illegal drug in potions. The other day a Gryffindor had taken out a stall door down in the second floor toilets. Things had changed so much in twelve years. Thomas couldn’t even believe it.
“Aguamenti.” A stream of clear water shot from his wand and landed on the curtains. “They’ll be ruined,” he noted casually to Effie as he moved his wand back and forth like a firehose, stamping out every last flame. “Are you going to tell Filch, or should I?”
698 words Tagged: Effie Wilde He's such a space cadet. All, "Oh, a fire, nbd, but the pancakes, that's interesting! Right?" |
|
|
|
Post by effie teagan wilde on Apr 14, 2011 21:18:52 GMT -5
Effie couldn’t believe her eyes as the scene unfolded before her. She wondered if the man in front of her was in some kind of trance. This was bad, this was very, very bad. Effie tried to stifle her panic by taking a deep breath and thinking. And then the man was on his feet. He was asking if that was fire and Effie wanted to hit her head against a wall repeatedly. Hadn’t she just come barging in saying there was a fire? Was that her imagination running away with her? She felt like a little kid who no one ever listened to.
And then he was right at it, taking care of the entire fire Effie had just watched be lit in front of her. And he was going on and rambling. Asking questions, being logical, being normal. Effie merely stood there, staring, like an idiot. The whole thing was just too unbelievable. If she told this story to anyone, they’d laugh at her and say one of the students in the library slipped something in her cup of tea earlier. This had to all be a hallucination.
So, what did Effie do amidst what was obviously a hallucination? She broke out in laughter. It was mildly hysterical, childish, silly laughter. It was the kind of laughter that lit her whole face up and made her face hurt. Her ribs were aching and her eyes were watering and she did this for what felt like five minutes, but was surely only about one minute. Either way, it was enough to get his attention, that Effie had realized. And she tried to stop, but really couldn’t quit giggling.
”Some first month.” Eff mumbled as she lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that had come about while laughing. She locked eyes with this man. She’d seen him around, maybe once, and vaguely remember him being called Professor Barnes. ”I’m Effie, but the way. Effie Wilde.” She tried to think of how many times she’d said those exact two sentences in her life. If she’d ever been the type to take on a catch phrase, that would be it. Every new person she’d ever met, she’s had to say those words. Most of the people she met came with some kind of awkward preamble that brought about Effie’s embarrassment. For such a charming young woman, she sure managed to make quite the fool of herself.
”And maybe you should call Filch. I stupidly left my wand in the library. I’d try to cover up that fact, but I figure I already look insane enough, why not add in the truth!” Effie’s voice was a casual thump of energy. Impressions, she was making them and they never seemed quite…. Right.
|
|
|
|
Post by professor thomas barnes on May 10, 2011 16:29:38 GMT -5
The fire was definitely out, or at least there were no more visible flames, but Thomas continued to rain water on the curtains and rubbish bin. They were still smoking, and better safe than sorry, right? The librarian had slipped from Thomas’ mind. He had focused on her long enough to ask her about Filch, then she was gone. Replaced with a million other things, and thoughts, and actions that might need to be taken now that a fire had been started on his watch. Which house was hiding an arsonist? Would he ever get those papers marked? Should he summon a prefect to hunt down the student who started the fire? It wasn’t until she laughed, a rather delightful sound he had to admit, that Thomas shifted his focus back to Effie.
She was gorgeous.
An absolute vision, though not one Thomas had seen before. In reality or in his visions. He would have certainly remembered. Her face was lit up with laughter, and Tom found it surprisingly endearing. At least one person was finding the hilarity in the situation, for Thomas was still feeling grumpy and more than a bit out of sorts from his vision. But, this woman’s silly, funny, laughter was contagious. Unwillingly, Thomas found the corners of his mouth creeping upwards, into a bemused smile. But she laughed for so long, and Thomas’ smile began to falter. Had the dastardly arsonist hit her with a cheering charm? But no, she found her grip on reality not long after Tom wondered if he would have to cart her off to Madam Pomfrey.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Effie,” Thomas’ replied in his quiet, calm voice. He held her gaze for a beat and then broke away, returning his attention to the now thoroughly soaked curtains and bin. No one had warned him about the new librarian, which was surely who this person was. There hadn’t been any other vacancies at the school this year, and unless Professor Sprout had suddenly taken to beauty potions... “I’m Thomas Barnes, professor of Divination. But you may call me Tom, the rest of the staff does.” His attention was still on the wreckage, studying it intently. As Effie took up the conversation again, Tom ended the charm and pocketed his wand, apparently satisfied that all was well again in the corridors of Hogwarts.
“Perhaps I’ll wait and see if any prefects come by with our arsonist. There’s no need to get Filch all riled up with no one for him to take it out on...” Thomas pulled his gaze from the mess, finally, to refocus his attentions on the new librarian and ask a question that had been nagging at him since she finished speaking. “I don’t think you look insane. Why would you think that?”
467 words Tagged: Effie Wilde OMG HE CAN BE HARD TO WRITE. I just picture him doing everything with this eerie calmness about him, and then he's all dry humour and flighty words. THOMAS, YOU CAN BE WEIRD. |
|
