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Post by Maxwell Arnold Waller on May 11, 2011 18:56:07 GMT -5
Maxwell approached the empty classroom slowly, but with conviction. He had nearly failed his Transfiguration O.W.L. test last year, and he was determined to get a head start in Transfiguration this year. Normally school would take a back seat to his social life, but the rather heated argument he had with his father on the way to Platform 9 3/4 left him feeling anxious. After all, he had his whole life to make friends, but only one shot at Hogwarts.
Transfiguration and Maxwell did not get along very well. A distinct memory of his would definitely be the second day of Transfiguration, when he managed to set a fellow classmate, Cheyanne Klause, on fire. Although it wasn't very big, he never did see her in that class again.
Max made his way way into the smaller-than-usual classroom and tossed his beige messenger bag casually onto a desk. He rolled up the sleeves of his maroon sweater and hiked up his dark jeans before pulling an apple out of his bag. He walked towards the front of the room and placed the apple delicately on the desk. Sure to place it perfectly so that it wouldn't fall over when hit with a spell that probably wouldn't work. He sighed, letting go of his nerves, before taking a few steps back and pulling out his oak wand from his pocket. The goal today was to change an inanimate object into an animate one, hopefully a mouse. He aimed, took one last breath and flicked his wand aggressively. There was a loud poof, followed by the apple flying back against the chalkboard and exploding all over the front of the room, including Maxwell. He sighed a third time, this the most pathetic of all, and wiped the small remnants of apple off his face.
"I'm never going to get the hang of this." He grumbled, waving his wand a second time. "Scourgify". The apple began to vanish. "Why couldn't Transfiguration be more like Charms?" |
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Post by Christabel Roussel on May 14, 2011 11:34:36 GMT -5
The stress of the day was something that Christa hardly ever looked forward to, in fact she absolutely loathed the idea. The thought of so much to do, there mere fact she was already thinking on what to do first gave her a splitting headache. The thought though of another high grade in class gave her the extra boost to think positive. Once she had calmed down her mind a bit, she found she could easily chart her planner in her head with ease. Her blue skirt swayed softly as she sashayed up the grand staircase.
Unfortunately for her, she missed her last five steps to the next floor and was forced to be led to another part of the castle. Thankfully enough, it was a familiar location or else she'd find herself under the mercy of Merlin only knows what. Along her way back to the path she was taking, she chanced upon a classroom with a voice coming from it. The sound wasn't that of a class taking place, in fact, the voice sounded like one solitary male.
Curiosity began to get the better of her as she walked cautiously to peek inside. True enough, there was a boy who seemed to be muttering to himself, or moreoever, grumbling. She had arrived just in time to see bits of fruit flying across the room. A part of her would have instantly rushed to help but in the next seconds to follow, it seemed everything was well under control. She could easily sense the disappointment in the young man by the very tone of his voice. At his question, she didn't know how or what, but she aimlessly strode in with a reply "Well, then it would just defeat the purpose of having two different branches of magic, am I right?" |
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Post by Maxwell Arnold Waller on May 25, 2011 15:06:25 GMT -5
The defeated boy took a seat in a desk and waved his wand around vigorously, maybe to get the magic juices flowing, but who knew? As he sat there unimpressed and frustrated, a voice entered the room confidently, but with a hint of humor. He instantly felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Finally, something to distract him from how horrendous he was at Transfiguration, or maybe a possible tutor that could school him in the ways of the wand, something he found his Professor seemed to struggle with when it came to Max's talent at being completely talentless at this particular subject of magic. At least Maxwell had one thing under his belt, no one had died yet.
"Well, then it would just defeat the purpose of having two branches of magic, am I right?" She said, the pretty girl who looked younger then Max but he had definitely seen around the castle before. He chuckled before standing up and approaching the young woman who had spoken, while doing so flattening out the crinkles in his sweater. He wanted to look presentable!
"Well it might help out a wizard who, for some unknown reason, does exceptionally well at Charms and horrifically bad at Transfiguration." He laughed. Max felt comfortable around the girl, although that wasn't saying much. Someone would have to be throwing around unforgivable curses to have him not want to try and start a conversation, but that characteristic comes with friendly social people like him.
"The name is Maxwell Waller, but I prefer Max. Sixth Year Gryffindor." He told her, although the House part was probably obvious, his badge resting upon his chest set upon the maroon background of his sweater.
"And you are?" He asked inquisitively. He thought he had taken a class with her in previous years, but he couldn't be 100% sure. She might have just had one of those faces, the one's that always seem recognizable, though Max thought that over 5 years at Hogwarts probably meant every face at Hogwart's seemed that way. [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by Christabel Roussel on May 27, 2011 1:24:23 GMT -5
Upon managing to catch the attention of the young stranger, she caught sight of his face when he had stood up to face her, nope, she had definitely not seen him around before but one thing was for sure, he wasn't in her house. The colors of the sweater and the badge resting upon it was a dead giveaway. She didn't have that many friends from other houses so it was quite a nice yet awkward sort of feeling from someone coming from a house so noble as brave Gryffindor. She did of course feel a sense of amusement upon seeing him trying to flatten out his sweater.
"That is true, yet one cannot be a master of both, so I do applaud you for your exceptional skill at Charms," she said this in a manner that made one feel like he/she was reading a really old Shakespearean novel, and although the situation for her remained still, quite awkward there had yet to be any stutter or whatsoever possible faltering in her speech. She couldn't help but laugh inside at the way she had spoken and yet a sense of fear that he might think she was some sort of ghost from the later 60's come to bring back their dead language or worse, an alien. "Although, I don't think anyone can be horrifically bad at something, just call it, lack of practice," she said this with a small reassuring smile. No one was perfect, let alone, she, Thankfully enough, it proved a person to be human.
Hearing his name, she began to think again if it deemed familiar, still no luck but her one inference about his house was correct. She was quiet for a few seconds before responding to his question, normally she'd have said something intelligent or anything aligned with that but decided on her latter decision, since she had managed to speak that way for the past ten minutes ago. "Christabel Roussel, just Christa. Fifth Year, Ravenclaw,". Almost immediately, she began to feel that sense of awkwardness slipping away, must have been the exchange of names, since for her, it meant they were no longer strangers.
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