Re: Brown, Li, Longbottom, Zabinizabini_bJuly 17 2006, 13:01:49 UTC
Blaise picks at his fingernails and ignores the Weasley until he's forced to repeat the question, a note of irritation entering his voice.
"You may want to clear them out of the owlery, Sir; I, however, have no desire to do any such thing."
The Gryffindor girl giggles into her sleeve and Blaise looks faintly smug, before he remembers that he vowed never to show emotion in public again. Their professor glowers - his complexion clashes horribly with his hair - and beckons Blaise closer.
Re: Brown, Li, Longbottom, Zabinich_fireballJuly 18 2006, 08:51:13 UTC
Zabini comes forward, looking well pleased with himself.
"Sir?" He asks as he crowds up conspiratorially close to Charlie -- far closer than any student other than a Slytherin seventh year would presume to get.
Charlie looks at him.
"Desire," he says, "is another topic altogether. Perhaps you misread your timetable." Charlie smacks the boy lightly in the chest with the pair of gloves he's been holding. "Here."
As soon as the boy grasps them, the gloves open, and then in one sinuous, curling movement, they wrap themselves around him, lacing themselves right up his arm. Charlie pats him on the back. "You'll be needing those."
"Now, about the chizpurfle," he says. "Longbottom. Can you tell me why they're such a nuisance?"
Re: Brown, Li, Longbottom, Zabinizabini_bJuly 18 2006, 09:04:21 UTC
Lowering at the professor from under his (considerable) eyebrows, Blaise sticks out a foot as Longbottom steps forward to answer. Longbottom goes flying and lands in a thistle. It's childish, he knows, but it makes Blaise feel great.
Corner, Patil, Thomas, R. Weasley [and Parkinson]ch_fireballJuly 4 2006, 07:49:07 UTC
Michael Corner is poking about in his group's equipment box; Thomas and Patil have turned away from him and are talking together. Parkinson is examining her nails.
"Right, then," Charlie says and tosses the group's instruction parchment to Parkinson since she's the first of them to look up at him. Her reflexes are good.
"Oh, joy and happiness," she says when she's scanned its contents. "Our group has a 'special task.' We need a volunteer."
Re: Corner, Patil, Thomas, R. Weasley [and Parkinson]army_of_pJuly 17 2006, 07:22:02 UTC
"The volunteer," she continues, after a brief pause to critically examine the little golden whatsit that had been rattling about inside the parchment, "gets to be a special emissary in an ancient tradition. What a joy. Oh look, there's a high chance of violent death. I nominate you, Thomas. Isn't that why we keep you Gryffindors about?"
Pansy assumes that earns her a glare - it should have, in any case - but she ignores it (or its absence) and continues reading the instructions. Bloody hell, she's made Potions less complicated than this! But by the looks of it, the rest of them, sans the 'special emissary', get to play with Puffskeins and - oh, ick - plants. Plants mean dirt. Under her nails. And Puffskeins always give her this overwhelming urge to kick them, and she's in enough trouble as it is.
"On seconds thoughts," Pansy announces, letting the parchment roll itself up again, "the special mission is far too important to entrust to just anyone. Obviously I should do that." She lifts her chin, daring challenge.
Re: Corner, Patil, Thomas, R. Weasley [and Parkinson]padma_dailyJuly 20 2006, 23:03:21 UTC
Padma misses most of whatever it is Pansy is on about - she's too busy concentrating on Dean. She's done this whole Parvati-role-reversal thing before, years ago, and it's still surprisingly easy to slip into her part: some extra jewellery, a quick charm to lengthen her hair, a smile or two. The hardest part is remembering to giggle. But her fellow Gryffindor seems convinced, and that's the major hurdle. Now she just has to keep it up for the next two hours.
Luckily the last few years of prefect's meetings mean that picking the important points out of Pansy's little speeches has become second nature. Padma mentally rewinds the last minute or so. Something about a... task? She wants to grab the parchment out of Pansy's hand and check, but Parvati wouldn't do that, so she curls her hair around a finger, giggles (and refrains from rolling her eyes at herself), instead she has to content herself with asking: "And what's is it that we're meant to do?"
Padma hopes that Pansy doesn't detect too much non-Gryffindor sarcasm in that question.
[Michael Corner]randomwizJuly 20 2006, 23:26:43 UTC
Michael stops watching the group Professor Weasley is currently badgering - Longbottom on the ground, Zabini laughing, the usual scenario - and peers over Pansy's shoulder at the task, scrunching his eyebrows. Trust a Slytherin to skip ahead past the dirty work.
"We've got to cultivate the soil first before you can even think about swanning off into the clouds," he pointed out. And at Pansy's dirty look: "What, isn't that the point of detention? What was it you did anyway, O Mighty Head Girl?"
Both Thomas and Parvati look up quickly, obviously eager to hear any gossip as well, but Pansy forestalls them by bending down to pick up one of the hoes from the pile.
Michael takes a quick step backward for a better view. My, she's got a lovely arse. Now that he thinks about it, he won't mind supporting that beanstalk with Pansy climbing above him at all.
Granger, Macmillan, Malfoy and G. Weasleych_fireballJuly 4 2006, 07:50:21 UTC
"Yes, when you're finished, you may chop down the beanstalk if you want," Charlie says to Dean Thomas. "Any other questions?"
"Excuse me," a voice insists from somewhere very close behind him.
"You have a question, Malfoy?" Charlie turns to look at him. "I was just on my way to your group now."
Under his breath, Malfoy says something that sounds very much like, "About time, too," and when Charlie turns to make his way toward the rest of Malfoy's group, the boy springs in front of him, demanding, "Where is our assignment scroll?"
Charlie bites back a chuckle. "Well," he says, "it looks like you're holding it."
Malfoy scowls at him and raises the scroll that's clutched in his hand. "You can't be serious! This can't be ours. Do you know what's written here
( ... )
Re: Granger, Macmillan, Malfoy and G. Weasleydraco_iteroJuly 10 2006, 19:54:30 UTC
Draco has very distinct and overwhelmingly unpleasant childhood memories of the motley menagerie in Vincent's Uncle Monty's garden. Charming place for the boys to play, he'd bellow, slapping them all on the back with a huge meaty hand.
He'd had a Clabbert.
Draco shudders and takes the helmet-thing from Weasley, who clearly doesn't know a dignity-saving piece of apparatus from her rear end. Too bad. These girls can dither all day and get the revolting jobs.
"I call the Screechsnaps," he says, snatching up a rusty pair of shears and jamming a couple of jars into Macmillan's midriff. "You're on slug duty," he nods to Macmillan, "get some gloves, hurry up."
[Ernie Macmillan]randomwizJuly 10 2006, 20:18:50 UTC
"No way, Malfoy. We start with the Clabberts and get that done. All of us. Working together. These aren't solo jobs, and there's no way you get to grab the clean and easy one."
Ernie looks to the Gryffindors for support and is pleased to see that the girls are obviously on his side. Ginny Weasley's eyes have narrowed -- and Granger looks like she'd sooner kill Malfoy than see him prance off to tiptoe through the Screechsnaps.
Actually, Granger just looks like she'd like to kill somebody, period. Ernie takes this into consideration and moves a bit further off.
"Oh, I do beg your pardon." Draco glares at Macmillan. "I'm dreadfully sorry." He grabs the jars back from the idiotic Hufflepuff and throws them at Weasley, who catches them--with a fairly good arm.
Macmillan is still flapping like a goldfish. "You chase after the Clabberts then, you like the idea so much." Draco eyes Weasley and raises his eyebrows expectantly. She's got a cutthroat streak when she flies; Draco wonders if she'll go all Gryffindor now.
Finch-Fletchley, Finnigan, Lovegood, Nott [and Bullstrode]ch_fireballJuly 4 2006, 07:51:03 UTC
Sprout sends Bobbin, Bones, Creevey and Goldstein off to rid the mandrake terrace of slugs, warning them one last time to remember that one slug in six is likely to be the flesh-eating kind, and turns to find her other groups lounging indolently in the sunshine.
"Now then, has Mr Nott still not arrived? Oh dear, oh dear! It can't be helped, I guess," she sighed. "In that case, Miss Bullstrode, we'll need you to join this group with Mr. Finnigan, Miss Lovegood, and... Where did you go? Ah, there you are! Mr. Finch-Fletchley. If you'll just gather round here."
The young men come quickly, but stand a cautious distance from their new group member. She waits a moment longer until Miss Lovegood has floated nearer them in her dreamy sort of way.
"You've all had a look at the assignment while I was with the others? Except for Miss Bullstrode, of course. Well, that's all right then. You are to start with something familiar in any case, but it's a right bugger of a challenge!" She sighs again, dramatically. "Have you seen the mess this year
( ... )
"Very good!" says Sprout. And then, "Well now," as she stoops over to pull equipment from their box. Yes, four pair of long sheers and a whetstone handed off to Finch-Fletchley. And one, two, hmmm...
She wonders why Bulstrode let Herbology go after OWLs; she never put herself forward in lessons, but Sprout realises now she thinks about it that the girl showed promise. And she was never one to shrink from a bit of dirt under her nails.
... ah, four complete pair of quick-releasing gauntlets.
"There you are, Finnigan. Yes, take them all and share them round."
And... four reinforced gorgets.
"Let's see how these fit: we don't any of you choked along the way."
Sprout knows that once students specialize, they often let go of her course because it's not necessary in most of the career tracks. She understands that, but it seems a shame sometimes.
"Having difficulty, Finch-Fletchley? Here, let me help, no sense fumbling about."
Re: Abbott, Goyle, Potter, and Smiththe_boy_wotJuly 15 2006, 07:20:58 UTC
"Er," Harry says, thinking his look had been closer to Why Must I Always Go First than incomprehension.
Smith snickers under his breath.
And Hermione wonders why Harry always thinks god or whoever hates him a lot; detention with Smith and Goyle and something resembling Tartarus-level housework. One crack about scouring charms, the cupboard under the stairs and house elves (like he hasn't heard them all anyway) and Smith is going to get a fist in the face.
Detention for that can include Malfoy and it'll still be worth it.
Harry loftily ignores Smith and speaks firmly. "The south-facing side, since the pitch gets most of its light from the northeast."
"Oh, my," Sprout says, trying to keep things cheery. "Well, that's a most -- what is it they say? -- syantizical explanation." The boy does have the most stubborn Muggle streak; it still pops up even after seven years of efforts to straighten him out with proper magical training.
Goyle is grinning, but not because he's prepared to give her the correct answer.
"Mr Smith, you're a year closer to your OWLs. What do you say? Bundimuns grow on which side of any post?"
Well, Harry thinks wryly, unfortunately unable to keep his face from flushing, at least it'll be more difficult to make jokes about him being good at something.
Comments 49
"So, Zabini. Remind the group what problems chizpurfle cause and explain why we'd want to clear them out of the owlery and the ferret pens."
Longbottom glances anxiously at the instructions he's holding and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
Reply
"You may want to clear them out of the owlery, Sir; I, however, have no desire to do any such thing."
The Gryffindor girl giggles into her sleeve and Blaise looks faintly smug, before he remembers that he vowed never to show emotion in public again. Their professor glowers - his complexion clashes horribly with his hair - and beckons Blaise closer.
Reply
"Sir?" He asks as he crowds up conspiratorially close to Charlie -- far closer than any student other than a Slytherin seventh year would presume to get.
Charlie looks at him.
"Desire," he says, "is another topic altogether. Perhaps you misread your timetable." Charlie smacks the boy lightly in the chest with the pair of gloves he's been holding. "Here."
As soon as the boy grasps them, the gloves open, and then in one sinuous, curling movement, they wrap themselves around him, lacing themselves right up his arm. Charlie pats him on the back. "You'll be needing those."
"Now, about the chizpurfle," he says. "Longbottom. Can you tell me why they're such a nuisance?"
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"Right, then," Charlie says and tosses the group's instruction parchment to Parkinson since she's the first of them to look up at him. Her reflexes are good.
"Oh, joy and happiness," she says when she's scanned its contents. "Our group has a 'special task.' We need a volunteer."
Reply
Pansy assumes that earns her a glare - it should have, in any case - but she ignores it (or its absence) and continues reading the instructions. Bloody hell, she's made Potions less complicated than this! But by the looks of it, the rest of them, sans the 'special emissary', get to play with Puffskeins and - oh, ick - plants. Plants mean dirt. Under her nails. And Puffskeins always give her this overwhelming urge to kick them, and she's in enough trouble as it is.
"On seconds thoughts," Pansy announces, letting the parchment roll itself up again, "the special mission is far too important to entrust to just anyone. Obviously I should do that." She lifts her chin, daring challenge.
Reply
But her fellow Gryffindor seems convinced, and that's the major hurdle. Now she just has to keep it up for the next two hours.
Luckily the last few years of prefect's meetings mean that picking the important points out of Pansy's little speeches has become second nature. Padma mentally rewinds the last minute or so. Something about a... task?
She wants to grab the parchment out of Pansy's hand and check, but Parvati wouldn't do that, so she curls her hair around a finger, giggles (and refrains from rolling her eyes at herself), instead she has to content herself with asking: "And what's is it that we're meant to do?"
Padma hopes that Pansy doesn't detect too much non-Gryffindor sarcasm in that question.
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"We've got to cultivate the soil first before you can even think about swanning off into the clouds," he pointed out. And at Pansy's dirty look: "What, isn't that the point of detention? What was it you did anyway, O Mighty Head Girl?"
Both Thomas and Parvati look up quickly, obviously eager to hear any gossip as well, but Pansy forestalls them by bending down to pick up one of the hoes from the pile.
Michael takes a quick step backward for a better view. My, she's got a lovely arse. Now that he thinks about it, he won't mind supporting that beanstalk with Pansy climbing above him at all.
Reply
"Excuse me," a voice insists from somewhere very close behind him.
"You have a question, Malfoy?" Charlie turns to look at him. "I was just on my way to your group now."
Under his breath, Malfoy says something that sounds very much like, "About time, too," and when Charlie turns to make his way toward the rest of Malfoy's group, the boy springs in front of him, demanding, "Where is our assignment scroll?"
Charlie bites back a chuckle. "Well," he says, "it looks like you're holding it."
Malfoy scowls at him and raises the scroll that's clutched in his hand. "You can't be serious! This can't be ours. Do you know what's written here ( ... )
Reply
He'd had a Clabbert.
Draco shudders and takes the helmet-thing from Weasley, who clearly doesn't know a dignity-saving piece of apparatus from her rear end. Too bad. These girls can dither all day and get the revolting jobs.
"I call the Screechsnaps," he says, snatching up a rusty pair of shears and jamming a couple of jars into Macmillan's midriff. "You're on slug duty," he nods to Macmillan, "get some gloves, hurry up."
Reply
Ernie looks to the Gryffindors for support and is pleased to see that the girls are obviously on his side. Ginny Weasley's eyes have narrowed -- and Granger looks like she'd sooner kill Malfoy than see him prance off to tiptoe through the Screechsnaps.
Actually, Granger just looks like she'd like to kill somebody, period. Ernie takes this into consideration and moves a bit further off.
Reply
Macmillan is still flapping like a goldfish. "You chase after the Clabberts then, you like the idea so much." Draco eyes Weasley and raises his eyebrows expectantly. She's got a cutthroat streak when she flies; Draco wonders if she'll go all Gryffindor now.
Reply
"Now then, has Mr Nott still not arrived? Oh dear, oh dear! It can't be helped, I guess," she sighed. "In that case, Miss Bullstrode, we'll need you to join this group with Mr. Finnigan, Miss Lovegood, and... Where did you go? Ah, there you are! Mr. Finch-Fletchley. If you'll just gather round here."
The young men come quickly, but stand a cautious distance from their new group member. She waits a moment longer until Miss Lovegood has floated nearer them in her dreamy sort of way.
"You've all had a look at the assignment while I was with the others? Except for Miss Bullstrode, of course. Well, that's all right then. You are to start with something familiar in any case, but it's a right bugger of a challenge!" She sighs again, dramatically. "Have you seen the mess this year ( ... )
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She wonders why Bulstrode let Herbology go after OWLs; she never put herself forward in lessons, but Sprout realises now she thinks about it that the girl showed promise. And she was never one to shrink from a bit of dirt under her nails.
... ah, four complete pair of quick-releasing gauntlets.
"There you are, Finnigan. Yes, take them all and share them round."
And... four reinforced gorgets.
"Let's see how these fit: we don't any of you choked along the way."
Sprout knows that once students specialize, they often let go of her course because it's not necessary in most of the career tracks. She understands that, but it seems a shame sometimes.
"Having difficulty, Finch-Fletchley? Here, let me help, no sense fumbling about."
Reply
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Predictably -- why do they never surprise her? -- the young man panics and scans the assignment scroll for any hints it might hold.
"Oh, don't look as if you've never heard of them, Potter; you studied them for your OWLs. Which side of a post do they grow on? Hmm?"
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Smith snickers under his breath.
And Hermione wonders why Harry always thinks god or whoever hates him a lot; detention with Smith and Goyle and something resembling Tartarus-level housework. One crack about scouring charms, the cupboard under the stairs and house elves (like he hasn't heard them all anyway) and Smith is going to get a fist in the face.
Detention for that can include Malfoy and it'll still be worth it.
Harry loftily ignores Smith and speaks firmly. "The south-facing side, since the pitch gets most of its light from the northeast."
Reply
Goyle is grinning, but not because he's prepared to give her the correct answer.
"Mr Smith, you're a year closer to your OWLs. What do you say? Bundimuns grow on which side of any post?"
Reply
Reply
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