Alasdair Daniel McCandlish

dairtoderive @ 2008-11-30T14:32:00

2008-11-30T22:33:51Z

CLASSWORK: History of Magic, Third Year
Lesson One

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Do one or more of the following:

1) RP the lesson

Being fairly well read, Alasdair was naturally pretty familiar with fairy tales. They were the stories he was reading when he had just started to read, when Trudy had been a kind older sister and hadn’t minded helping Dair sound out the big words that she knew already. That said, when Professor Oswald began to recount the tale of Rapunzel, Dair honestly wasn’t that impressed. After all, there had to have been a reason for the creation and proliferation of a specific story, and why not do it as a magical cover up so muggles wouldn’t get curious. This wasn’t anything new in the wizarding realm. Everything about magic was, in some way, deceptive. The telephone booth that was the gateway into the Ministry headquarters in London, Purge and Dowse, Ltd. as a front for St. Mungo’s. In Alasdair’s mind, these were the most obvious examples.

And so, was it really surprising that Rapunzel was really a veela with a rapidly growing hair charm? No, not really. Was it a little disappointing, now that the stories of his childhood were being exposed as lies? Perhaps a little bit, but Alasdair was secure in his convictions, and his convictions were not comprised of information gleaned from fairy tales. No, he’d be alright.

He just really didn’t want to write this essay, despite how easy it'd be for him to write it.

dairtoderive @ 2008-11-30T14:31:00

2008-11-30T22:32:33Z

CLASSWORK: Transfiguration, Third Year
Lesson One

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Complete one or more of the following options:
1) Roleplay the lesson

Alasdair wasn’t too sure what made Phoebus so naturally talented at Transfiguration. There was something about the way that Phee’s brain worked that made him able to transfigure anything if he just set his mind to it a little bit, and that was something that impressed him. Alasdair naturally knew that Phoebus wasn’t a dumb pile of rocks – the boy was actually fairly clever and shrewd, which is why he was Alasdair’s best friend in the first place. But there was also jealousy. Just a little bit, lurking in the sidewings. Alasdair knew from the hours that Susan spent murmuring the words of the Transfiguration textbook that she felt the same way.

Dair watched Phoebus turn his teapot into a tortoise in a few short swishes of his wand, and then turned back to his own black and silver-colored tortoise. The first thing to accomplish was the shell. He had to make it turtle-like. Like how Phee had done it, he could apparently use the spell over and over to achieve turtleness. “Torte!” He swished his wand over and over , using the incantation, and after many trys, he had a four-legged tortoise with sparkly eyes, and a tail that still looked too much like a teapot handle. At least it walked around a little bit. He had at least given something life which had not been living before.

As Susan frowned at her steam-belching tortoise, Alasdair also attached a tag to the tortoise’s hind leg, and carried the reptile up to Professor Rowe’s desk. What was she going to do with all these colorful tortoises anyhow? He shrugged, then left the classroom with his mates.

dairtoderive @ 2008-11-30T14:29:00

2008-11-30T22:31:03Z

CLASSWORK: Charms, Third Year
Lesson One

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Homework: Your Choice
1. RP the lesson
2. List five other uses you can think of for this charm.

Other Uses for the Hovering Charm:
1. Phee’s pants above his bed so he’d see them when he woke up in the morning, and then actually wear them during summer holidays. Enough only-underoo parties, Phoebus.
2. Mistletoe at holiday parties. If you like that sort of thing.
3. Grapes above your head so you can eat them like a Roman Caesar, but without the Nubian slaves. Twice the food, half the enslavement!
4. Confetti. It’s a perma-snowglobe!
5. Stupid cats that your older sister have that you always trip over, and then you get smacked across the face by your sister for injuring the 35 year old cat.

dairtoderive @ 2008-11-30T14:26:00

2008-11-30T22:28:45Z

CLASSWORK: Divination, Third Year

Lessons One – Seven

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson One: 200+ word RP of the lesson.

Alasdair was almost immediately perturbed upon entering the Divination classroom. It didn’t look, feel, or smell how a classroom should look, feel, and smell, and Alasdair was really quite picky about his learning environments. Two years of previous experience had already taught Alasdair the productive places in the library, and where he couldn’t get three-scroll essays done for Potions for the life of him. And so, it was with an acute sense of doubt that Alasdair sat in the class next to Susan, his stomach uneasy with the smell of the rolling waves of incense fumes.

All too soon Professor Trelawney entered the room, and began to give her resume aloud. Oh of all the uncouth things! Dair did not care to believe that this woman’s pedigree ensured her to take a class. After all, if Alasdair followed in the footsteps of his grandfather and father and brother, well, he’d be getting ready to work in a bloody fishery up in Ye Olde Fraserburg, wouldn’t he?

And then the woman gave them her very first prophecy; that most of them would fail. How Sweet! How apt! How right she would be! Because Alasdair was ready to quit at this very moment. Frowning in the general direction of the woman, Alasdair stood with the rest of his classmates once they were dismissed (with homework on, essentially, why divination was the best class ever. Bah!) and exited the classroom, hoping against all hopes that he wouldn’t fall down the trap door, and that if he did, Susan or Phoebus would be underneath him to provide a soft landing. After all, what are best friends for?

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Two: RP researching some forms of Divination. Feel free to start your own thread in a different part of the castle, just be sure that you come and link back to it in this thread. (Cite your sources!)

Alasdair couldn’t help the feeling that today’s lesson in Divination would be more lame than the one from last week. You see, last week, Dair and Susan had been graced with the presence of Phoebus at their small little table. This week, Phee had promised himself to Takeda, and that was lame.

Rushing up the stairs of the North Tower, his stomps creating echoes in the stone building, Dair reached the Divination Classroom only a minute before the huge bells of Hogwarts announced that it was officially time for class to start. The Ravenclaw was naturally surprised, of course, to see that Phee was sitting next to Susan, and not Ryu! Dair slid into the seat next to Phee. “Hey mate!” With a grin, he greeted the Slytherin who was already frowning at the pen in his hand. “Hi Susie,” he added so that Susan wouldn’t feel left out or huffy. Huffy!Susan meant bad times for Dair, and Dair was surprisingly caring enough about his two good friends to not wish them unhappiness.

Professor Trelawney who had quickly earned herself a place in Dair’s “Stupid as Hell Professors” book, mentioned something about the fortune of a curly haired girl in the class, and then after that, a Hufflepuff boy. Deciding already that the lot of this was rubbish, Dair spent the class wondering exactly how eviscerating the intestines of a ferret would predict anything except the sheer lunacy of the person doing the eviscerating, and that salmonella bacteria would soon take up residence in the location of the evisceration.

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Three: Write a poem about Professor Trelawney's "talents" at "seeing" or, write a poem about the "grim tidings" and how they befall Hogwarts. Poem should be at least 100 words please.

Dair hunkered down next to Phoebus, having about the same amount of enthusiasm for Divination as Phoebus did. That is to say; not very much. Dair itched the top of his head before dropping his hands, and then his head down onto the table, which was actually rather difficult, given how low his bum sank in these poofy chairs. “Of course I would,” he intoned, as his level of desperation grew. They had only been in class for five minutes. There was an eternally long time left to suffer through.

Dair spent the rest of the time in class mentally alphabetizing all the letters in the words she wrote on the board. aeMns
ehT aeMns aer eht ‘’ahtw ,or bcejstu aemttr, fo aceh fmor fo aDiiinnotv. ehT bcejstu lmosty is ddeefin as: aEhrt, Air, aertW, eFir, aMn or iipSt. eeHorvw eht bcejstu is not aalswy acellry ddeefin and ehnt mstu be ddeefin by eht ‘deiirnsv ceeinopprt.

Perhaps it was clear, therefore, of two things:
1. Professor Trelawney would drive Alasdair McCandlish to do crazy things.
2. That made him just like her which was also not entirely wanted.
3. Or maybe Dair just needed to get a life.

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Four: As always, a 50 word attendance post is mandatory.

To be quite honest, Alasdair McCandlish was actually somewhat taken aback at the actions of his Divination professor. The woman had always been crazy, flighty, and inconsequential. But when she looked serious and wasn’t being her usual ditzy self, Alasdair actually, almost. Uh. Began to respect her?

Too bad that lasted for all of, oh, twenty minutes. By the time Professor Trelawney had finished explaining that it had all been an experiment, Dair was back to boredly kicking Phoebus’ foot whenever it came within reach of his own.

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Five: Please RP the lesson, trying Psychometry. Essays are boring. Don’t do one.

Dair’s eyes were widened dramatically when Professor Trelawney explained to the class what she expected from them this lesson. His eyes fell towards Susan who would most likely be just as personally affronted by this request. He withdrew a pocket watch from the basket of things, thinking that at least he could steal it and in the future be a pompous git who had a pocket watch in his vest pocket.

“I’m not even sure,” he mumbled in response to Susan as they left the classroom, and he craned his neck in all ways trying to find just exactly where Phoebus had disappeared to in the few moments since the end of class.

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Six: 50 word attendance

After today’s divination lesson, Alasdair McCandlish was more assured than ever before of the complete lunacy of Professor Trelawney. The woman was insane, telling them to screw their eyes shut in a manner just so so that they could see colors that hung around a person, so that the colors could be called different colors so that they could be interpreted.

Instead of partnering up to actually accomplish this thing, Dair sat in a corner and relaced his shoes. Phoebus and Ryu were off being stupid elsewhere in the classroom, so the boy really had nothing better to do.

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Seven: Pick a shape from the clouds, and write me a short essay (approx. 100 words) on what you saw.

Alasdair’s first term of lessons in Divination had done one thing and one thing only: they had taught the Ravenclaw that if nothing else, Professor Trelawney sure liked to fill the air with stuff. Usually incense. Today, clouds.

The woman was nuts. And Alasdair couldn’t wait to get onto next semester where he’d be brewing potions and learning ancient runes and arithmancy. Those seemed like worthy subjects. Especially potions. Way better than this bottled air crap.

QUOTE The Rubbish I “See” in the Sky
I am willing enough to acknowledge that I don’t have the most fantastic imaginative skills in this room, but really, professor, I can’t see much of anything that seems worthwhile, either in a Divinatory sense or otherwise. I do see what could be construed as feathers, which would imply “lack of concentration” if the textbook is correct, and I suppose that feathers would be appropriate enough for this class. (You can’t honestly think that all of us students are extraordinarily concentrated on this stuff.)

Because I can’t say that I saw much, I’ll tell you about things I wish I saw. I wish I saw lions, because that means that I’d have influential friends. Cows and crescent moons would both be appreciated, as they both imply prosperity and good fortune. I’d love to see a bush in the clouds, as they mean an invitation into society. Even I can’t say that I’m laboring under the delusions that my Great Aunt Mary is at all able to get me anywhere important. I would have loved for Phoebus to see mushrooms: he’s spending way too much time with girls and I’m getting rather jealous because of it. Actually, it seems like a lot of signs mean separations: razors, scissors, swords… I’ll go ahead and take another look at those clouds, Professor, and see if I can’t point out any of those shapes to Phee.

dairtoderive @ 2008-11-30T14:25:00

2008-11-30T22:26:03Z

CLASSWORK: DADA, Third Year
Lessons One – Seven

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson One: Write a short roleplay of the lesson (max. 300 words) (describing your thoughts on the lecture, on your new professor, what you were doing instead of listening, etc) I award house points for the most creative RP’s.

First lesson of the year, and it would be Defense Against the Dark Arts. With, apparently, a woman! Oh goodness. Alasdair was particularly prejudiced against women teachers (except for McAmis, of course) because, well, they just weren’t that smart most of the time. I mean, look at his older sister, Trudy. Her brain was about as capable as her name implied.

Alasdair dubiously sat in his seat, watching as the Professor introduced herself, called on Juliet Rosier, and all sorts of fantastic things. He was fully planning on hating her guts, until she basically gave the young boy a step-by-step process in which he could become the next dark wizard to bring terror to the lives of the United Kingdom.

Perhaps this class, would, in fact, be promising. “Phee? Did you take notes?” Alasdair asked as they left the classroom together. “This is USEFUL.”

---------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Two: Homework: You have a few options.
1. RP being pranked by one of your classmates.
2. RP pranking one of your classmates.
3. RP your utter failure to trick anybody.

Alasdair wasn’t quite sure what Professor Denton was doing, encouraging miscreants to prank people even more than they usually did. As a shy, relatively loner sort of fellow, Dair could easily imagine himself picked on by a lot of people. The guy was fortunate to have made such good friends with Phoebus so early on before Hogwarts had started. Not only was the Slytherin better than Dair’s own blood brothers, Phoebus could also theoretically be exceedingly effective as a body guard. All the Phees in the world couldn’t make sure that there would be no canary creams melted into his hot chocolate, no singing sweets crushed into tiny little bits and put on top of a cupcake, no grammar drops switched for cough drops, or nose-biting tea cups instead of the normal, nose-ignoring variety.

At the end of the lesson, Dair settled for picking up a pair of grammar drops. He’d make Phoebus eat them before he wrote his essay for this week’s History of Magic homework. Maybe then Alasdair wouldn’t have to correct quite so much of it. Because, obviously, it was so juvenile to place one’s prepositions at the end of one’s sentence.

Alasdair also wondered if he could get points from Professor Denton for 'pranking' the English Language instead of, you know, an actual person.

--------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Three: For homework, do one of the following:

1. Partner with a fellow student (it can be an imaginary student if you don’t have the time to organize with a real one) and RP playing hide and seek using the tracking spell.

2. Alternatively, write an essay about a famous incident of treachery, trickery, fraud, etc. For example, Barty Crouch Jr.’s impersonation of Alastor Moody - but don't use that one. This may be from the Harry Potter books, an actual historical event, or something you make up entirely. 300 words minimum.

Attended only.

------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Four: OOC: TWO people may post asking a question of Mr. Magee. Preferably, the question should be about banshees, but it doesn’t have to be. (As usual, do not post attendance until the lesson is finished. You’ve read the rules by now, right? )

Alasdair wasn’t really one for cute little magical animals, but well, this wasn’t so worthless as far as field trips went. So much better than first year Herbology. This place though? It was filled with danger. You could feel it in your bones. Alasdair appreciated a place that could properly intimidate you without doing much.

When the students were prompted to ask questions, however, Dair cast a disgusted glance at Clementine who asked if her brain would explode if she heard the banshee scream. It was a good enough question, really, but did she have to phrase it quite so idiotically? She was doing the house of Ravenclaw no favors.

Alasdair did something quite unprecedented: he raised his hand. Once Mr. Magee finished answering Clementine’s question, Dair was prompted to ask his question. He dropped his hand by his side, and then spoke up in a clear voice. “I’ve read that banshee hair has been used for dark magic wand cores. Is this true?” I mean, Dair was pleased enough with his ash wand, a wand made of a tree that sounded like the dead remains of a tree burned. That was creepy-crawly enough. But to have a banshee hair core? That would be even more superb.

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Four (Part Two) : For an O: Do the RP and write an essay answering the questions of your classmates from this lesson. Obviously you will have to make up whatever you write. House points for the most creative essay!

Mr. Magee answered Dair’s question in a way that didn’t really answer his question. Which was reasonable, Dair supposed. He didn’t expect adults to be overwhelmingly knowledgeable or anything of the sort. The fellow was a magical creature zoo keeper, as well. Not Mr. Ollivander. The young Ravenclaw gave the man a short nod as thanks for the ten points that he was awarded, and as Professor Denton allowed the points to be given, and then rounded up the students for leaving, Dair’s mind paused on the idea of using banshee hair in anything exciting. Perhaps he could convince that new potions teacher to give him a pass to the restricted section of the library so he could conduct some independent study on the usage of banshee hair in potions. He bet that they could be used for sanity potions, and maybe even potions that affected hearing…

Dair jotted down the homework from the blackboard, and quietly followed his chums out of the classroom, musing all the while.

Will Clementine’s brain explode?
No, her brain wouldn’t explode, as there’d be no logical rationale for a brain –exploding-. There are no caustic reactions that would occur, nor is there an ability of a banshee’s scream to put explosives into the head of anybody. What I think could happen as a result of a banshee’s scream is much more like a stroke: there is something in the scream that either overloads the mind to a tremendous extent, or somehow, a pseudo-thrombosis/embolism can occur, and blood flow to the brain can be obstructed or halted.
~~I’ve watched way too much House.~~

Can a banshee hair be used as a wand core?
I don’t see why not. It is part of a magical creature, and thusly has magical properties. If one harnessed that in a wand, there’s no reason that it couldn’t provide the same type of results as a wand made of phoenix feather or unicorn tail.

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Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Five: Roleplay practicing the Dampening Spell. The wand movement should be rather difficult to accomplish (or even understand).

Attended only.

-----------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Six: RP the lesson practicing the spell on your chosen item.

Two seconds into the lesson and Susan and Alasdair were already on Phee-drool Patrol. With a loving poke and a snuggly jab to his side and shoulder, the Slytherin was kept awake by the two Ravenclaws, which was a good thing, given that Phoebus was quickly called on by the DADA professor. Dair and Susan were good friends, they were.

Phoebus gave some garbled, but decent answer, and Alasdair partially zoned out for the rest of the lesson, choosing to read his latest dueling theory book that he had tucked oh so cleverly into the pages of his DADA textbook. Seriously, Denton would never discover him. Muwhaha.

The students were instructed to try out their new spell on an assortment of objects that were collected at the front of the room. Dair fingered the pocketwatch in his pants pocket that he had pilfered from Charms a week or two ago. He could duplicate that, but, given what Denton had mentioned about the integrity of the reproduced object, maybe the idea of duplicating a watch was a bad idea. The Ravenclaw had already decided that he didn’t want to get up and go all the way to the front of the room to grab stuff, so he eyed the objects around him.

Grinning, Dair slipped Phoebus’ wand from his pocket and placed it on his desk. Pointing his own wand, he then practiced the charm on his best friend’s wand. Switching a functioning wand with just a stick of wood that looked an awful lot like Phee’s wand would make for serious luls.

+ Phee’s post.
Excellent, copying things was exactly what he wanted to learn, especially if they were valuable or made of jewels. Phoebus rubbed his hands together excitedly and glanced around for something worth copying, because even if they were significantly less convincing jewels, slightly misshapen, they were still jewels. Of course, it would so happen that nobody had fistfuls of gems just lying around or stuffed into their pockets. Exasperated sigh. Phoebus turned to the girl next to him, who he vaguely recognized as Juliet Rosier, and she was wearing a GOLD LOCKET with a J on it!

Forget the initials though, they were focusing on material. "Can I borrow that?" he asked, holding his hand out. "The necklace, I mean." When she shrugged and handed it to him, because she probably had a zillion more just like it that were authentic (she looked rich, anyway, and James wouldn't hang out with her otherwise, probably) so she didn't care much.

"Awesome," said Phee, reaching blindly to the desk and picking up his wand. He tried the spell about eighty times with massive fail before he looked down and realized that this wand didn't really look like his, and it was actually just a stick. Turning to Dair, who looked quite proud of himself, Phoebus got out of his chair, stomped over to the boy, and smacked him on the head with the stick-wand, before retrieving his own and returning to Juliet. "I can do magic I swear," he grumbled.

------------

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Seven: Roleplay practicing Petrificus Totalus.

Alasdair McCandlish
Third Year Ravenclaw

Ryuichiro Takeda
Third Year Gryffindor

The third years were supposed to practice petrifying their classmates, and there was nobody on earth Alasdair would more prefer to have permanently petrified…. underground… a thousand feet…and possibly incinerated…than Ryuichiro Takeda. With a sinister smile on the Ravenclaw’s lips, Alasdair poked Ryu’s back with his wand. “Bet you I can petrify you before you can petrify me.”

Finally, the last lesson of the year, and Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't completely sucking. Ironic, really. Even more ironic was the fact that here he was, practically being given permission by Alasdair McCandlish to petrify him. It was like Christmas come early.

"You're on," said the Gryffindor, smirking and wondering why he'd earned such a pleasure. Probably because Phee and Susan were off doing their own thing. While he would have normally partnered up with MIles, this was an opportunity too good to waste.

…Well that had been easy. Dair blinked slowly, twice, before being, well, thrilled. Dair was confident in his ability to handle a spell like this…and even if he wasn’t confident in his own ability, he was sure that Ryu was certainly lacking. Alasdair led Ryu over to a small island of un-used space in the DADA classroom, and was about to lay out pillows before he thought better of it. Why make the inevitable fall of Ryu Takeda hurt less? “I don’t think I’ll need the pillows,” he remarked. “We can use them if you want, though.” Which Ryu wouldn’t.

"No pillows is just fine with me," Ryu shot back. He eyed the space around them and had the excellent vision of Alasdair toppling to the ground, frozen like a statue. He couldn't wait. "So, how're we doing this? 3 paces and then a draw?" He grinned despite himself.

“Excellent.” This was just going entirely too easily. He had expected at least some resistance from the Gryffindumb. Dair glanced around the room, wondering if anybody was watching their showdown. They’d best be ready for Ryu, flat on his back, and Dair’s foot pressing down on Gryffindor’s ‘Golden Boy’. Ugh. Revolting. “That sounds about right,” Alasdair replied, pulling his wand out of his pocket. He ran through the spell quickly once in his mind. He needed to get this on the first try. He raised his wand, and began the count off. “1…2…”

The Gryffindor removed his wand from his robes' pocket and turned, a bit hesitant to turn his back to his opponent, but despite the fact that he thought Alasdair was a stuck-up prig, he was no Juliet Rosier. As he took his first pace, Ryu took his wand out of the pocket of his robes, clenching it tightly. At the second, he repeated the jinx in his head. And on the third....the 14-year-old whirled on his heel and fired of his spell (Petrificus Totalus!)....and then promptly fell backwards onto the awfully solid ground after being hit in the chest by Alasdair's jinx. And, of course, the suffering didn't stop there. Even as he lay on the ground, frozen in place, he knew he'd have Phoebus' annoyingly raucous laughter to contend with. He would get McCandlish back for this.

The count of “three” was implied, and Alasdair whipped his wand and his incantation out in a hurry. As Alasdair’s spell went sailing through the air, Ryu’s own catapulted towards the Ravenclaw. Mimicking each other’s motions so unwillingly, Alasdair fell on his back, the thud of his body doubled by the sound of Ryu’s body falling. The Ravenclaw inwardly groaned in disappointment, anger, and the knowledge that anybody who had seen this little “showdown” would be forever mimicking the boys. How truly horrible.

(Ryuchirio Takeda would pay for this humiliation.)

dairtoderive @ 2008-07-21T02:34:00

2008-07-21T09:35:25Z

CLASSWORK: DADA, Second Year
Lesson One

Alasdair McCandlish
Second Year Ravenclaw
Lesson One: RP the lesson (your reactions, thoughts, what you were doing instead of listening, or your visit to the grindylow tank, etc and I'd like to see some good effort.)

Of all the "dark creatures" they'd learned of in Defense Against the Dark Arts, it was quite possible that the Kappa was the lamest. Last year it had been dark wizards, which were scary enough if you weren't into the whole "mass genocide" thing. Grindylows were even a little frightening when you looked at its claws, and how it cracked the glass of the aquarium. That was some powerful creature, right there. But a Kappa? It had a hollow part of its head. And that hollow part of its head was its weakness. This really just didn't make sense evolutionarily, and perhaps did prove that some Dark Wizards were dumb as rocks. Who would actually create a creature that was that vulnerable?

"As you can see here at the top is where the hollow part of the head with the water is located." spoke Professor McGinnis, and Alasdair looked at Phoebus' pained expression of hunger. He chortled, and his hand flew to his mouth to contain his laughter. "The Kappa looks like you, Phee," he whispered quietly. "You know...hollow headed?"

Rather pleased with himself, Alasdair leaned over to Phee's side of the desk they shared, muggle pencil in hand. He absent-mindedly began to sketch a Grindylow wearing a dress (that looked remarkably like Avon's sparkly purple robes) on the side of Phee's parchment. Now if only he could sneak his wand out during this lecture so he could animate the figure. It'd be really great to have the Grindylow's teeth sink into something vulnerable, but deserving. Like Ryu Takeda's ego, maybe.

Not entirely thrilled with the possibility of dueling a water demon, or watching Phoebus try to defeat it by punching it (Seriously, Phoebus was such a bag of rocks sometimes) Alasdair collected his things at the same time as Phee. "You'd better keep that drawing," he cautioned his best friend. "It's one of my best. The resemblance to Avon is inspiring." And then the boys went off to eat. Phoebus, like a horse at a trough. Alasdair, a bit more delicately.

-------------+

CLASSWORK: DADA, Second Year
Lesson Two

Alasdair McCandlish
Second Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Two: Battle the Hinkypunk. Role-play trying to resist the powers of the Hinkypunk.

Alasdair was well content to follow Phoebus in most of his choices, happy to do what Phoebus was doing, but critique him the entire way. This in mind, it was no surprise that Dair backed Phee up in his dislike of the mud, and ridiculous notions of tromping around in the wilderness for an animal that was likely to bite off your finger, or whatever McGinnis had said it would do. Alasdair had a limited supply of trousers, an even more limited supply of school-appropriate shoes, and he didn't really wish to embed mud into all the crevices of either piece of apparel. Call him girly, he would call himself resourceful.

It seemed much more reasonable to simply attempt to win this staring contest with this 'creature' that was mist with a lantern. Gee, McGinnis was really out-doing himself here. First there was an animal who could be defeated if you got thirsty and drank out of his head. Now there was mist that made you sleepy.

Scratching his head while waiting in line for his turn against the Hinkypunk, Alasdair twirled his wand in his other hand, anxious to get out of class. There was a dueling platform somewhere in that immense chamber, and it would hopefully have Dair's name written all over it. Or a first year who didn't know any better. Not that Dair was that formidable of an opponent. Probably just the opposite, really. But what Dair lacked in skill, he made up in sarcasm and harshly biting wit.

It was why Phoebus liked him so much.

Though, Phoebus flat on his back, drooling, wasn't quite why Alasdair liked Phee. "Get up, mate," he instructed, kicking the boy softly in the ribs. The Slytherin rose and wiped his face with his sleeve. Cute, Phee, real cute. Alasdair rounded about to face the Evil Mist of Doom, and quite soon, was also quite happy in La La Land. Phee was happy to return the favor, and Dair made his way out of the classroom both slightly embarrassed and lighter in his supply of saliva. Gross.

-------------+

CLASSWORK: DADA, Second Year
Lesson Three

*Attendance Only, no homework to catalogue.

dairtoderive @ 2008-07-21T02:23:00

2008-07-21T09:29:17Z

CLASSWORK: Charms, Second Year
Lesson One

Name: Alasdair McCandlish
House: Ravenclaw
Year: Second

Lesson # One
IC Reason Late/Absent There was traffic on I-Ravenclaw involving first years headed to Herbology. They really caused an inpenetrable gridlock.

Homework/RP:

Hogwarts at last, Hogwarts at last. After a semester of suckiness, stuck in Scotland, caring for an aging lady with a bad hip who just so happened to be paying his Hogwarts tuition with her duly hoarded wealth, the young Ravenclaw was pleased to be back at school. It meant...the library! Dueling! Phoebus and Susan! Who he was, as stunning as it was to say, rather fond of. He'd never expected to have actually made friends at this school, having always been the outcast previously.

Charms would promise to be fairly entertaining, right? And when the children were distributed various small trinkets to enchant, Dair received...a book. Uh. What was he supposed to do with a book? The boy glanced around. Susan had a pink elephant, her partner (who looked almost...similar to Dair?) had a hinged ink pot, another girl had a nutcracker. These all had very specific movements that they were engineered for. Make the elephant walk, the lid of the ink pot move, the nutcracker's mouth to open and close.

Alasdair flipped the cover of the book open, and began to focus on the only thing he figured might be reasonable. Make the pages turn themselves. Concentrating intently on the image of a page turning without the aid of a hand, Dair pointed his wand at the book. He tried it again, and again, and finally, the book flipped itself over and shut the back cover.

The Ravenclaw sighed, flipped the book to the front, opened the cover, and focused on the idea of the next words of the page appearing before him, being revealed slowly as the previous page was peeled away. Apparently that was more on the money, for the book's pages turned. Some twenty-three of them. Grumbling, he laid his wand down and sat back in his chair. Any more frowning with concentration would make his face stick that way.

-------------+

CLASSWORK: Charms, Second Year
Lesson Two

Alasdair McCandlish
Second Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Two

"Repello lacewing flies". Alasdair boredly flicked his wand at the plant he had been assigned. This was all so dreary. Dair's wand, being composed of aspen, was meant to be good for stuff like defense against dark arts. Which was awkward, really, given that Alasdair had no intention of ever battling a dark wizard.

Instead, the young boy just dropped his head down onto his desk, and staring at the wooden grain, let his wand down onto the desk above his head. "Repello bad grade. Repello McAmis in general so she doesn't come around." And there were sounds of Phee squeaking as bugs flew around his head. Dair then slipped to the ground, and sat cross legged on the floor, playing with his shoelace.

He might have actually lost his mind somewhere.

-------------+

CLASSWORK: Charms, Second Year
Lesson Three

Alasdair McCandlish
Second Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Three

Upon entering the class, and sitting through the lecture, Alasdair had only one question. And it was not how one could get away with not doing the questions that McAmis had assigned on the front board. This question was written down on a scrap of paper, and placed on Phee's desk that was right next to Dair's.

Phee,
Think we could modify Susie's memory so she forgets to give us Christmas sweaters this year?

I'm not sure I could possibly spill more pumpkin juice on mine, and dread the thought of a replacement.

Thoughts?

-------------+

CLASSWORK: Charms, Second Year
Lesson Four

Alasdair McCandlish
Second Year Ravenclaw
Lesson Four

"Loo-mos," Alasdair repeated with the rest of the class. And then he yawned a great big yawn. The lights were out, there was a soothing rustling of people getting away with note writing in a class because of the dark, and Dair had been up late reading a book the night before. It was typical, really. At least he didn't room with Phee - then he'd never get any sleep done. The boys would be far too busy plotting the demise of the mandrakes in Longbottom's greenhouses, or changing the color of each other's sheets, or other tomfoolery.

Pulling his wand out once the students were allowed to do so, Alasdair faced Phoebus, smiling secretly. Secretly because, well, Phee couldn't quite see all of Dair's face, could he? Nah. But smiling? Because please, Alasdair had learned this spell in first year. There was a reason he had read ahead in the Level Two book. He knew the theory behind these simple spells. Attempting the spell once, and failing because of incorrect wand movement, Alasdair tried once again. "Lumos!" He shone the wandlight directly into Phee's face. Just to be obnoxious.

"Nox." In a few moments, there were bright flashes of light in all parts of the classroom as the students began to get the spell right. It was like watching a strobe light show. Entirely awful, and migraine-inducing.

And so Alasdair settled for whispering "Nox" whenever Phee got his wand lit. And he did it consistently. And then ran away when the class was dismissed so Phee wouldn't beat him for being so annoying.

Really great class in general. 10 points, McAmis.

dairtoderive @ 2008-01-29T17:04:00

2008-01-30T01:05:47Z

ROLEPLAY: Winged Beasts and Flightful Fantasies
Lucia Adams-Monroe
Diagon Alley -> Owl Emporium
in progress -- original link

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 8 2008, 12:28 PM

Alasdair McCandlish was not the only person to have ever pressed his face onto this glass pane. There were smears from sticky hands lower down on the glass, imprints of ears above him from elder teenagers who leaned against it while talking with their crushes, desperate to be noticed. And right in the middle, the lean boy had one hand cupped around his eyes, shielding them from the awkward rays of sun that made it hard to see into the Owl Emporium. His other hand was holding dangling bags. School books, wrapped up packages of wizarding robes, his wand's box (the wand firmly secured in his pocket), and a very empty money bag save for a few knuts and sickles. They all hung off his right hand, tilting his shoulders and weight to that side. But oh, the Owl Emporium. It was great.

The boy had always been very envious of his grandparents with their large selection of owls at their house. His mother's parents weren't of the especially privileged pureblood sort, but they had owls and ravens and eagles and falcons. All enjoyed the wilderness of the Orkney islands, and Alasdair enjoyed thinking about how the beautiful birds could carry messages and wisdom and knowledge, even across the stormy waters that surrounded Scotland.

The day had been long and tiring for Alasdair. Shopping was tiring enough, and even more so when you had to make all your own decisions. Bessie McCandlish had decided that Alasdair would do just fine if he talked to his aunt about what he needed and headed into Diagon Alley all by himself.

It had made sense, really. Why corral all of the McCandlishes into London if they couldn't even get in because of the lack of their magical nature? There was no rhyme nor reason to doing that. But still, it had been a hard day, a long day. To send one's eleven year old boy on an errand more easily dealt with by two, was a silly thought. To send an eleven year old boy with only a list, some money, and a very vague knowledge of how an entire other race of people lived, well...that was foolish. But he had done it! Granted, he had lost his wand and had needed to completely retrace his steps. And there had been a tremendous load of other problems that had made his day one of the most exhausting he could remember but still! Alasdair was done and he could relax. The boy could content himself with some gazing into the window. It was a good feeling. Granted, the window was an bit dirty and smudgy, but Alasdair wasn't so much of a neat freak to deprive himself of a well deserved glimpse.

Going inside though, oh no. It smelled in there. And Alasdair Daniel McCandlish, unfortunately, was a rather affected little boy. Something we call a "wuss". But just a little bit we swear.

With a rather happy smile on his face, Dair continued to peep inside the owl emporium until somebody joined him in his gazing activities. Unknowingly mimicking the actions of all those older teenagers whose fingerprints were higher up on the window, Alasdair rolled until his left shoulder was propped against the window. His gaze focused on the newcomer: a girl. Eyes only kept occupied for a few seconds or so, the boy turned back into the window, his hand cupped around his eyes again. "They're really pretty owls, aren't they?"

Posted by: Lucia Adams-Monroe Jan 8 2008, 06:11 PM

Freedom! Finally!

Family get-togethers could usually go one way or the other, and for Lucia Adams-Monroe, it depended on which side of the family decided to show up at her home: the Lombardis (who were always delightful and welcome guests) or the Adams-Monroes (who, aside from Lucia's grandfather and aunt, weren't so delightful). Unfortunately for Lucia, the Adams-Monroes were over. At the same time as the Lombardis. A rich, pureblooded family meets an average muggle family. That just sounds like the recipe for fun, doesn't it? After having to endure hours of thinly-veiled criticisms and her Grandmother Georgina blather on and on about whatever happened to cross her mind (a new antique, how "precious" Lucia would look with a new haircut, or anything to do with a shortcoming in Lucia's mother), Lucia had had enough. When her mother and father realized that Lucia had been dragged off by her cousin and Georgina (who were now doing her hair and discussing buying new clothes, respectively), they decided that, for the sake of their daughter's sanity, she should get out of the house.

So now, at this very moment, Lucia found herself in Diagon Alley, her hair in a dainty ponytail with a thin, ribbon headband (oh, how she wanted to hex her cousin. Not really. But that sounded rather drastic, didn't it?) and a bag full of money to buy new school books in. Of course, there were a few items that Lucia would rather buy with this money than books, and those bright-colored, sparkly inks did look rather enticing. Yet, Lucia reminded herself that she was a good daughter. She was just going to buy her books, and then return home. She had also decided that she would take as long as humanly possible, just to avoid more quality time with the (probably warring, at this point) family.

Despite her true intentions, Lucia found herself out of Flourish and Blott's very quickly, with her new books in hand. Now what? After wandering around Diagon Alley somewhat aimlessly, she passed by one particular shop that caught her interest. Now, Lucia had made a promise to her mother before she had left home. This promise was to not bring back anything to the house that was living. But who could resist all of the owls at the Owl Emporium? Really, now. Lucia didn't even have enough money with her to buy an owl. However, it was free to look at them, and Lucia decided to do just that. She wanted a pet so badly. Even now, she could imagine herself naming it, and taking care of it, and using it to send letters and --

Her buying-an-owl fantasy had been interrupted by someone very suddenly. The question actually caused Lucia to jump, but she quickly brushed it off as someone her age talking to their parental guardian about the little feathered animals. Nothing to do with her, surely. When she realized that there had been no response, Lucia frowned at how uncaring such a parent had to be to not talk to their child, and she quickly turned around to give them a "You-should-know-better" look that they clearly deserved. When she realized that there was no one else other than herself and the boy around, Lucia was surprised. That means that he must've been talking to her... And she hadn't said anything this whole time. Whoops.

Nodding, Lucia quickly replied with, "They really are. Too bad Mum won't let me get one. Are you getting one? Lucky duck." Then, to avoid grumbling about that, Lucia decided to quickly change the subject. She glanced over at the boy with one eyebrow raised as she noticed all of the school supplies he was carrying. "I had to get some new things for school, too. New books, mostly. I figure I can use most of what I bought last year," Shrugging, she offered the boy her hand. "I'm Lucia. Nice to meet you."

Lucia now had a delighted smile upon her face, proud of herself for this accomplishment. One year at Hogwarts, and Lucia was just going around and making new friends everywhere she went. How lovely.

dairtoderive @ 2008-01-29T16:57:00

2008-01-30T01:00:33Z

ROLEPLAY: In Search of a Wartcap and Powder
Leslie Arden
Homes & Holidays -> Fraserburgh Wizarding Market, Fraserburgh, Scotland
abandoned -- original link

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 31 2007, 01:29 PM

"No sense in going all the way to London, Alasdair, when we've got a wizarding market right here," Bessie McCandlish had told her son. Ever the pragmatist, Bessie was. Why go all the way to England (even when you had your Great Aunt Mary's Floo Network connection) when you could just hop on your bicycle and go to the tiny little Fraserburgh Wizarding Market.

What Mrs. McCandlish didn't understand was that Alasdair loved Diagon Alley. It had the most lovely book shops and the butterbeer there tasted better than anything in Fraserburgh. But no, the boy wouldn't be going to England. Especially not after he'd returned from his last trip to Diagon Alley with a badly singed book cover. The boy 'wasn't to be trusted so far away' or some nonsense. It should make sense, really. What were the McCandlishes doing sending their child all the way to England on his own? He was only eleven!

Of course, once allowed that certain freedom, he was expecting to be granted that permission again. And to have it so forcefully ripped away from you was rather sad.

But, he would still need ingredients for his potions kit. He needed newt spleen and lacewing flies, knotgrass and snake fangs, and what the heck is a boomslang anyway? Or a wartcap? And how does one make a powder from that? With a sigh, the boy made his way down to the wizarding sector on bicycle. Once he came upon a wooden fence, covered in enormous amounts of ivy, Alasdair prodded the only visible knot he could find, just like how his Great Aunt Mary would. Eyeing his surroundings surreptitiously, Alasdair then turned back to the wall to find the ivy branches receding, and a latch in the door. Pushing the latch down, and the door away from him, Alasdair stepped through the door, yanking his bicycle over the raised bit of the door.

Once inside, the door magically swung shut, the ivy replaced the fence, and Dair began to wheel his bicycle through the moderately busy wizarding market. He'd have to wander until he found the apothecary's shop.

Posted by: Leslie Arden Jan 1 2008, 08:18 AM

Leslie woke up in her room in the big house in Loch Morgan, Scotland to an awfully quiet house. There was no feet walking up or down the stairs or her uncle's booming voice giving orders to house elves. Leslie sat up in her bed trying to clear the sleep out of her head. Walking over to the window's she pulled away the curtains to look out at the weather. It seemed to have every prospect of being a warm and sunny day. Perfect weather for a long walk or sitting under a tree reading one of her new school books. Leslie turned her back on the window and headed over to her closet to pick out something to wear. On her bedside table she saw a letter and some kind of list. Picking the letter up she wondered who it was from. Skimming the note through it said

QUOTE

Dear, Leslie!
When you read this letter i have left for a buisness meeting in London. I don't want you to be home alone so i would like you to run an errand for your mother. I was supposed to do it, but you know how i get in big crowds? Anyway, most of the stuff on the list is things you and Gerald need for Hogwarts. Les can you please travel to Freserburgh and buy all the stuff on the list? Most of the items on the list are things i wouldn't know the first thing about. There is some floo powder in the little box on the mantel piece. Can you be a big girl and go to Fraserburgh? I promise to come and meet you there outside the apotechary at 3pm.

Love,

Uncle Artair

Leslie placed the letter on her bed and read the long, long list of items in her mother's neat handwriting. She needed to buy ingredients at the apotechary like, wartcap powder and bezoar. At the robe shop she need to buy silver, green, blue and red satin. Pick up a Black tuxedo too and also buy something of her own choise maybe a necklace? Her mother was apparently going to make some new dresses for her and something slytherinish for her older brother. The rest of the stuff on the list were just random stuff. Leslie placed the list on the bed and got dressed in a blue dress with black shoes and a red ribbon for her blond/brown hair. After eating a quick, but solid breakfast she took her little handbag with the extra money her uncle had left behind and the list before going into the living room.

Taking an ounce of the floo powder Leslie stepped into the fireplace and said in a clear 11 year old voice "Fraserburgh wizarding market!" a few seconds later she felt the familier tow and was on her way. A few minutes later she landed in a dusty ans sooty fireplace. Leslie clambered out coughing and spitting before looking where she was. She had come to the right place Leslie noted with relief as she saw the market sign in the middle of the square.

Leslie walked out onto the main street after brushing of her clean dress as much she could from the soot and dust. All around her she saw wizards and witches in different shimmering cloaks rushing for here to there. It wasn't as much people here as it usually was in Diagon ally but a small town in Scotland wasn't the same as in London. Leslie followed the signs to the apotechary making sure not to offend any of the older wizards and witches. Entering the shop she saw another boy about her own age. Leslie took up her shopping list before going up to him. She gave him a small smile saying "Hello! Are you here to buy potions ingredients too?"

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 2 2008, 01:37 AM

It was particularly annoying to have to wheel a bicycle alongside him throughout the marketplace, but the boy just couldn't think of a reasonable place to keep it. Anywhere in muggle Fraserburgh, Alasdair could have just chained it up to a post, or outside a shop. But here, wizards didn't deal with things like bicycles. They all had such different manners of travelling. Apparition, broom, Floo, magic carpet (which he'd only heard stories of). But of course, no bicycles. And the broom racks for shoppers was shaped a whole lot different than bicycle stands. A pity indeed.

At least he didn't get too many strange looks. The wizarding kind were so accepting. There was that old woman who had tried to sell him a broom to "replace that shoddy muggle contraption" of course, but, well, Alasdair had just shook his head no, frown intact, and carried on his way. To the apothecary, to the apothecary!

The boy circled twice what seemed to be a relatively average sized wizarding market, especially for a wee city in the north of Scotland. It was finally when he found a sign (what a novel concept indeed!) that his whole "being lost" woes were alleviated. Oh, Alasdair did enjoy a well planned and set up market square. It made the whole process of buying the daily necessities much easier and more enjoyable. Also, yes, Alasdair was hopelessly nerdy. No, you couldn't really do much about it.

Pushing his hair off his forehead as he finally reached the establishment, Dair propped his bike up against the front facade of the old building. Making sure it was steady and wouldn't be pushed over, Alasdair glanced around the street. It seemed like a clean and safe enough place to leave his bike. Not likely to be stolen. After all, what use would a witch or wizard have with a muggle bicycle that was old, rusty, squeaked, and had front tire that was beginning to deflate. No, it was not an incredibly desirable thing, certainly not worth stealing.

Pulling his shopping list out of his pocket, assuring that his money was still on his person (it was), and then flattening the list against his leg, Alasdair pushed the door open and entered. It was while he was waiting to be noticed by the proprietor that another person came into the store, and without any hesitation, walked up to him, gave him a smile, and began to speak.

"Oh, well, yes," he replied, blinking his eyes twice in rapid succession. It was a strange phenomenon, but Alasdair was pretty sure that wizarding children were far more friendly all around. He'd introduced himself to thrice the amount of wizarding children within thirty seconds of meeting than he'd ever done with non-magical children. "I'm going to Hogwarts you see," he began to explain, his neck craning back to the old man who was puttering around the shop, measuring weights of things for another customer. "In any case, I need a few more things to complete my potions kit."

Alasdair gave her a brief smile, and then nudged his chin in the direction of the list in her hand. "The same for you?"

Posted by: Leslie Arden Jan 2 2008, 10:04 AM

Leslie walked over to the different stalls on the left checking out the merchandise. They had a lot of interesting objects she had to admit. The store seemed almost as well equipped as the apotechary in Diagon Ally, where her family usually shopped. Leslie straighted out her long list and chewing on a piece of brown hair she stood examining it. First thing she need to find was wartcap powder. Looking up and down the shelves she finally found the Wartcap Powder and also the Bezoar that was on her list.

"Oh, well, yes. In any case, I need a few more things to complete my potions kit." Turning around Leslie drew her hair out of her face looking sideways at the other boy "Yes, I will need the same kit and supplies." Pointing to the left of her she said "Over there you can find Wartcap powder and Bezoar.. Do you need those for you kit?" Leslie moved a little to the side so that she was out of the way if the boy wanted to walk across to the other side. She ticked off the bezoar and wartcap powder from her long list.

"I'm going to Hogwarts you see. The same for you?"She studied him for a moment and then nodded saying "Yes, I'm going to Hogwarts too. It's going to be my first year." Leslie noticed his questioning glance at her list and added "This isn't the Hogwarts supplies list. Its just a lot of different things which need to be baught before my brother comes home from Hogwarts." she stopped talking and started looking at her list again.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 5 2008, 05:38 AM

This girl would indeed prove to be useful, Alasdair was pretty sure. Within only moments of meeting, she was telling him exactly where he could find the things that he found himself in need of. With a tiny smile on his face, he watched as she wandered about the small potions store, and examined the various products that were offered. Before she noticed that he was watching her or anything, though, he turned away and poked his nose into a large cookie jar shaped brass tin that was on top of the counter.

Coughing lightly when he inhaled a bit too strongly from the foul-smelling ...err. 'Ground Hippogryff Tooth', Alasdair replaced the lid with a clatter, turned around, and rubbed his nose vigorously, clearing it of the smell and the itch that had been gained by this venture into potions ingredients. His eyes slid to her face when she began to respond to his question. "Oh, you found the Wartcap? Fantastic, I was looking for that." With a gracious nod, he crossed past her and across the store until he found himself where she had pointed. Reaching up onto the shelf, he pulled down a medium size bottle of the ground element. Transferring the glass bottle to his right hand, he held his left hand up, the one with his ingredient list. Examining the rest of the list, he gazed around until he found both fluxweed and knotgrass to his right.

He took three steps to grab some of each. "Did you need knotgrass or fluxweed?" he called over to her, still examining the containers of each. "I've found them right here." The conversation shifted to their reasons for being in the apothecary's shop. "Yes, mine too," he mentioned, before she added onto her explanation. "Oh, I see! What house was your brother sorted into?" Shifting his weight only slightly, he stepped to the left to have a more direct view of the girl to whom he was speaking. He reached up to rub his once once again, before dropping his hand down by his side. "I'm Alasdair, by the way," he mentioned, rather emboldened by the conversation across the shop that he was having with the girl. "Alasdair McCandlish, that is."

Posted by: Leslie Arden Jan 5 2008, 10:46 AM

Leslie walked around the store humming to herslef as she searched the shelves for the items she need. Having no idea what the other boy was doing she jumped high as he coughed loudly. Turning around she gave him a long confused look before shrugging, and continueing with searching for items."Oh, you found the Wartcap? Fantastic, I was looking for that." "Your welcome! I figured you would need the same stuff i do, because you seem to be around my age."Leslie said looking up over her list. She watched as the other boy take down the wartcap powder from the shelf, before walking over to the left still with her list in a tight grip. There were still a lot of items in the apotechary that she need. It would have been a big blessing if the store had a basket or something of that sort, where she could place all the things she needed to buy but it semmed that she was out of luck.

"Did you need knotgrass or fluxweed?" Hearing the other boys voice she was brought out of her thoughts. Skimming through her list of supplies she nodded saying "Yes, as a matter of fact, i do need those ingredients too."Leslie walked over to where the boy was standing and took down one container of fluxweed and one container of Knotgrass. Juggling the ingredients and her list she said a little irritated "Why can't the store have something to place the things you need to buy in? It sure would make the shopping for ingredients a lot easier.. I don't want to drop anything by accident."

Leslie walked over to the counter and placed the ingredients on the counter for safe keeping as she walked back to the left to see if there was any more ingredients she needed. "Oh, I see! What house was your brother sorted into?" She heard the other boys question about her brother and answered as she took down a peculiar looking vial "My brother was sorted into Slytherin. He is finishing his fourth year at Hogwarts at the moment."

Leslie examined the vial for a moment admiring its purple color before putting it back on its right shelf certain that it wasn't an ingredient she need for her first year of Potions. "I'm Alasdair, by the way,Alasdair McCandlish." Hearing the boy introduce himslef as Alasdair McCandlish she smiled and said "Nice to meet you, Alasdair! I'm Leslie Arden."

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 6 2008, 02:40 AM

Excellent partners indeed. Except for the part where she gave him a highly inquisitive look after his investigative actions led him to sneezing, they seemed to be getting along fine. He pointed towards the brass tin while rubbing his nose in an effort to explain the situation, but eventually settled for just shrugging and dropping both hands to his sides. It was far too much work to explain why he was sneezing into expensive potions ingredients and then trying to get away with it. Getting assaulted by the only potions dealer in Fraserburgh would have an ill effect on his future as a wizard indeed.

Leslie joined him on the other side of the store to collect her knotgrass and fluxweed, and he moved out of the way even a little bit more just so that she wouldn't have to reach around him to grab it. Nor would she have to touch him. Alasdair wasn't exactly comfortable with strangers touching him, even if they were getting along so symbiotically as he and Leslie were. Tucking the long curly blades of dried knotgrass underneath his arm gently, trying to avoid the crunching sound that would signify breakage, Alasdair held his list up to the light once again.

"Why can't the store have something to place the things you need to buy in? It sure would make the shopping for ingredients a lot easier.. I don't want to drop anything by accident."

"Mhmm," he murmured, his eyes flickering to her, and to the counter, as she made a trip to deposit all her acquired items. "My Great Aunt Mary always carries a wicker basket with her when she comes to this market. I can't imagine why I didn't think to do the same," he berated himself softly, more to condone his own practices than to agree with Leslie's proposition that the store provide such amenities for its customers. The chat turned to her brother's house, and Alasdair too was facing away from the girl as they spoke. He found the next ingredients on his list: boomslang skins (dried, grated, and floating in preservative) and newt spleen, both kept in heavy glass jars larger than the size of Alasdair's bike's front tire. Picking up two empty vials from the case next to the ingredients, he began to use the tongs to ladle the items in the portions he desired. The boomslang skins were done, and he filled the next jar with newt spleens. "Is that where you want to go too, then? Slytherin?" He added some of the newt spleen bile to the jar to fill it up to the brim before he capped both of the jars tightly. Leakage on the way home, or any other time he transported these things, would be a vile thing indeed.

Alasdair turned around and headed to the front of the store as well, following Leslie's example and placing all his acquired ingredients in a clump on the front counter. "A pleasure, Leslie," he returned warmly, before his eye was caught by a large basket of snake fangs. Idly he began to fill another one of the provided jars with ten or fifteen of the choicest, most intimidating-looking fangs he could find. "Are you from Fraserburgh?"

Posted by: Leslie Arden Jan 6 2008, 11:04 AM

Leslie stood examining her list closely, she still needed boomslang skins, newt spleen and snake fangs. All these ingredients sounded ickey and gooey. Looking over at Dair she wondered if he was in the process of searching for the same ingredients. "Mhmm.My Great Aunt Mary always carries a wicker basket with her when she comes to this market. I can't imagine why I didn't think to do the same." Leslie listened as Dair told her that his aunt always brought a basket to the market. "Bringing a basket to the market is a really good idea. I wish i had thought of that before coming here. It sure would make things easier." Leslie searched up the shelves on the left from top to bottom trying to find the ingredients she still needed. "Have you found the boomslang skin or the newt spleen yet?"[/b] she asked still searching the shelves next to her without luck.

"Is that where you want to go too, then? Slytherin?" Leslie nodded and said "Yes I would very much like to be sorted into Slytherin, but nothing is for certain. My brother told me that the sorting hat has a mind of his own and that some people whom he thought was definitley going to be sorted into a certain house ended up somewhere else." Leslie watched as Dair walked over to the counter and placed his ingredients on the counter as she herself had did a few minutes ago. Moving over to the right she asked "So where would you like to be sorted?"

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 8 2008, 11:58 AM

Permanently ignoring the fact that carrying around a basket was a practice not exactly prolific amongst the eleven to twenty crowd of boys, Alasdair nodded in response to Leslie's comment. It wasn't that Alasdair was girly and would carry a basket. It wasn't like he wasn't girly. Carrying a basket around wasn't out of the question for the poor boy. Oh, but no, he simply hadn't thought of it. How foolish of him. At least he still had the basket on the front of his bike, right in front of the handlebars. If lacewing flies didn't take up too much space, he imagined that all his purchased ingredients would fit quite nicely. His reverie was broken as Leslie asked him for the location of boomslang and newt spleen.

"Have you found the boomslang skin or the newt spleen yet?"

"Oh yes, I have," he responded, looking up from his snake fang selections. "They're right where I just was, back there," he pointed with a finger, the rest of his fist curled around two fangs he was contemplating buying. "You have to get out the portions that you want from the large container to the small jars," he continued. "Like this." He motioned to his jars of spleen and skin on the counter. "Not very appetizing, but I suppose it'll be even worse when we actually have to make potions with them."

Dropping one, two, three! fangs into the jar, pleased with their dull clinking sound, Alasdair listened as Leslie spoke of the Slytherin House at Hogwarts. "I've heard that too," he responded. "About the sorting hat, I mean." He glanced over at her, rubbing his nose absently. "So where would you like to be sorted?" she asked him. "Oh, I'm not sure, I suppose," he responded with a shrug. "Ravenclaw sounds nice, but my Great Aunt Mary says that I'm a Slytherin through and through. And she's usually right about those sort of things, or really really wrong. I guess we'll see." Smiling a tiny smile at her, he nudged his chin over at the boomslang and newt. "Did you need help with those? I'm almost ready, I think."

Posted by: Leslie Arden Jan 8 2008, 12:58 PM

"Oh yes, I have. They're right where I just was, back there," Leslie looked up from her list and followed his finger to see which shelves Dair was pointing at. She placed the list in her small purse and walked past Dair and to the shelf he had pointed out to her. She soon found the boomslang skin and newt spleen. Those two ingredients looked very icky and slimy. "You have to get out the portions that you want from the large container to the small jars."Leslie's worst fears were answered. She had to take the ingredients out of their containers and place them into new vials.

Usually she was independant and certain that she could manage anything if she set her mind to it, but these ingredients made her stomach grumble. Leslie glanced over to where Dair full vials stood on the counter and gulped before looking at the containers again. Guess she needed to come over her fears and get to work.. There were a lot of things to buy and everything wasn't in the apotechary. "Did you need help with those? I'm almost ready, I think." Leslie looked at Dair and said "Yes.. I do think i could use some help, if your finished? The boomslang skin and newt spleen is as you said not very appetizable, and i don't want to drop any of them on the shop floor. They seem rather slimey and slippery to hold onto."

"Ravenclaw sounds nice, but my Great Aunt Mary says that I'm a Slytherin through and through. And she's usually right about those sort of things, or really really wrong. I guess we'll see." Leslie gave Dair a bright smile saying "Both are as i understand it, good houses. You will probably fit well into which ever house the hat sorts you. So i hope you won't loose any sleep over where you will end up." Pausing for a moment she looked at the counter and saw that the shop assistant had fallen asleep on the job. "Hmm. As i said earlier i would love to be sorted into Slytherin, but if the hat doesn't sort me into Slytherin, then i hope he chooses Ravenclaw. I don't think i have enough of the other houses qualities to fit anywhere else."

Who Needs Textbooks Anyways?

2008-01-30T00:54:09Z

ROLEPLAY: Who Needs Textbooks Anyways?
Ivy Ballantine.
Diagon Alley -> outside Flourish & Blott's
completed -- original link

Posted by: Ivy Ballantine Dec 30 2007, 07:39 PM

Ivy was having a bleedin' deadly time in Diagon Alley. Already she had escaped from her family, run into several Hogwarts-bound students her age, and snuck into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where she had spent nearly all of her pithy allowance from the last two years on contraband that was probably destined for Filch's filing cabinets--not that she knew this yet. All she knew was that she had never seen so many brilliant pranking devices. Including this set of Hungarian Horntail firecrackers. They weren't very big, only large enough to fit into the hidden pocket she had sewn on her cloak for the very purpose of hiding things from her parents, but they promised to have a fiery finish. She admired their dragon-shaped form through the crinkly wrapping.

It wasn't often that she got something new, much less something she was able to buy herself. Since she had seven siblings money was a tad difficult to come by, and for the most part she only received cash when she did a particularly difficult chore or there was a holiday. Not to mention that she lived on the farthest reach of the farthest isle of Europe, where you were more likely to spot a keplie than a human being and the term "shopping center" had something to do with the local fish and tack shop. Such a rare occassion deserved a proper celebration.

Like testing out her new firecrackers. Sure, it was the middle of the day and Diagon Alley was crowded, but what did that matter to her? The people were good camouflage, and it was just a little firecracker. It couldn't hurt anyone. Not such a little firecracker. So she wandered away from the shop and found a relatively clear area where she could test out her latest acquisition. A quick glance around showed that her family hadn't yet found her and no one was watching her, so she was safe for at least a few more minutes. She knelt and unwrapped one of the firecrackers, planted it firmly in the cobblestones and angled it slightly away from her (just in case). Then, using the special igniter in the pack, she lit the end, and stepped away quickly.

A normal firecracker would just make a lot of noise, and maybe shoot out some sparks. But this firecracker was made by the Weasley's, and naturally was more spectacular than that. It made plenty of noise, like a miniature dragon's roar, and rather than stay in one place, the dragon's shape magically unraveled and whoosh! Shot straight into the air in a glorious golden-brown display of sparking flames! The shape fizzled away from the bottom up, so that as it made its first and last flight over the oblivious heads of the shoppers, it became simply a fist-sized flaming dragon's head spitting sparks. It arced, arced, arced overhead, and gracefully, gloriously...

Smashed into the cover of a boy's book. For a moment Ivy's face was blank. She watched with fascination as the tightly clutched tome, belonging to a boy who had just walked out of a shop, caught fire and started turning black. Then she saw the boy's expression. Immediately she slipped into the crowd. This accomplished two things. Firstly, she had obviously just done something grievous which would need repairing, judging by the look on the boy's face, and secondly, she didn't want to hang around for any adults to connect her with the firecracker. Ivy wiggled her way through the shoppers, some of whom were looking overhead with puzzled expressions while others merely glanced down towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with the sort of casual indifference that comes to people who become desensitized. She headed towards the boy. Normally she would have steered clear of him, but since she had caused property damage and that was one of her parent's well-taught rules ('If you make a scratch on my good furniture yer gonna polish it off with your teeth!'), she knew she had to make up for what she had done.

"Well would you look at that!" she exclaimed brightly when she reached him, "Did something just fall out of the sky and hit that book of yours? That's quare!"

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 31 2007, 12:02 PM

With an enormous sense of pride in his heart, Alasdair had purchased a second copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. The reason for needing a second copy? Well, that ~~had been covered in a previous thread~~ was irrelevant. But now he had a second copy! And now he could go to Hogwarts and not fail out of his Defense class because he had Quentin Trimble to light the way. Oh, the luxuries of books. Alasdair couldn't be more pleased.

Sure, this second copy was a little scruffier around the edges, had a faint smell to it that wasn't exactly pleasurable, and had a binding that was likely to give away in a matter of months. In way worse condition than his first (also used) copy. But as time went on, the pickings got slimmer, and Dair was stuck with his book. But at least it was his book, and not that Tallulah or Georgie March's. Not that he had anything against the March sisters. ~~It wasn't like he was named Laurie or anything.~~ But still. Alasdair had a bright and shiny new book! Well, comparatively new. Relatively shiny, and certainly not bright. In fact, his book was rather...well... It was brown and not shiny, and dull,

ON FIRE. HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN, it was on FIRE.

As he had been holding it out in the light of the day, so much brighter than the light inside that musty old bookshop, looking at it, appraising, evaluating, admiring it, some cursed ball of fire had fallen from the sky and, by some awful act of providence, knocked that book out of his hands, on to the ground, and then had lit it on fire. It was almost as if some divine being was literally kicking Alasdair out of Hogwarts's doors. "Shoo, shoo, you're definitely not one of us," it was saying, and then Alasdair would start to cry.

But for now, ZOMG BOOK ON FREAKIN FIRE. In a desperate attempt to not have his skin tanned off his back when he returned home to ask for more money for a third book, Alasdair did the only think he could think of. He started to jump on the book. Could he whack out the flame of the book? Yes hopefully. Then he yanked the empty canvas tote off his shoulder (because yes, he was a woman that way) and Dair began to slap the canvas against the cover of the book until both the canvas and the book were fire free.

Eyeing it suspiciously for just a second, Dair finally just sat down, there in the middle of the entrance to Flourish and Blotts, and heaved air in and out through his nose in an exhausted manner.

"Did something just fall out of the sky and hit that book of yours? That's quare!"

Alasdair looked up at the speaker, closed one eye, and cocked his head, still breathing hard. "I don't want to talk about it," he sighed. And he gazed with quite a moping attitude towards his book. Towards his blackened, smouldering book.

Posted by: Ivy Ballantine Jan 1 2008, 09:09 PM

Ivy had the bad habit of getting into trouble. She was essentially a walking magnet for it, and whether by her own doing or unintentionally, it appeared things would be no different across the English channel. Her "harmless" firecracker had just destroyed the boy's book. This wouldn't have bothered her so much, considering how used she was to having second-hand objects which ended up ruined in her possession anyways, so she didn't quite comprehend the fact that he was mourning the loss of his textbook. Who needed textbooks, anyways?

She watched as he started to stomp on his book, then beat it with his canvas tote (What an awfully girly thing to carry around, even me ma doesn't carry one of those things around, are all boys going into Hogwarts pansies?), and she helped by stomping on it as well, as enthusiastically as if the book had been hers. Perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Bits of the cover and burnt innards crumbled away once she removed her foot.

"Whoops!"

Her voice was bright and happy, as always. She was quite unperturbed by the whole incident. Even though she should have felt some sort of remorse, especially when she smiled down at the utterly devastated boy who sat on the ground in front of Flourish and Blotts, she instead felt...quite chipper, really. She was excited about what she had just done. Sure, he said he didn't want to talk about it, but she most certainly did! It was bleedin' deadly! So she ignored the comment and continued to chat anyways.

"It really destroyed it, didn't it!" she exclaimed as she plopped down across from him and picked the book up by the parts that hadn't been terribly burnt. It was hot and her fingers turned pink but she ignored it. "I didn't think it could do so much damage, but leprechaun's beard, look what it did! The Weasley's are brilliant! Oh, I'm Ivy Ballantine by the way, who are you?" She stuck out her soot covered hand for him to shake, smiling at him. "What was this book anyways?" She leaned down a little, squinted, and blew on the cover until she could make out the title. "The Dare--the Dark Forces--A Guide to Self-Protection. Well that sounds like a good read. Better than most at least." She placed the book back down and continued to talk, plowing ahead in an attempt to overlook the teensy detail that she had been the one to annihilate his book.

"Most books are bloody awful, don't you think? They're totally useless except for firewood most of them, but I like Defense Against the Dark Arts because my granda is a hit wizard, and a load of my aunts and uncles are in the MLE in Ireland, so I get to hear loads of stories about the bad people they've caught and you know what? I think you might be able to save this, there's probably a spell or something to repair it. Reparo or something? I dunno, I don't know magic yet and what I do know I'm not allowed to use, of course, so sorry but I can't really help you. What's so important about this book anyways?"

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 5 2008, 05:02 AM

Alasdair was pretty sure this girl was Satan.

With a horrified look on his face, he watched as she immediately helped him in stomping out the flames by literally...stomping on the book. After he had stomped on the book, and had put the fire out quite well. "Erm," he tried to interject, and then squeaked a noise of surprise as bits of his charred book cover actually fell off. "Whoops!" ~~Satan~~ The evil girl exclaimed, and Alasdair glared at her with the ferocity of a thousand fiery suns. No really, the glare was that intense. And bright, but not in the bubbly way.

He thumped down on the ground, ready to bring the smouldering book into his hands to inspect, but ultimately thinking the better of it. The book might be badly injured, but it was also hot having...been put on fire. He didn't want burnt hands as well as a burnt book. That wouldn't aid the situation in the least bit. Wouldn't it be his luck that he required medical attention as well as attention from the New Book Fairy. With a sigh, he glanced as the girl of doom and much speech literally bounced onto the ground beside him and The Badly Burned Book and cleverly began to relate to him all the things that were ruined about his book. Sweet, really.

Alasdair was pretty sure that this girl had never been silent for more than five minutes of her life. Because there he sat, being rather distraught and exceedingly unhappy over the state of his depressingly scorched book, and couldn't even get a word in edgewise. 'Why yes, it really did destroy it! Oh yes, those Weasleys, my heroes! Way brill!' And then she wanted to introduce herself with those dirty, mangling fingers of hers? "Alasdair McCandlish," he sighed in a dejected manner, dropping his head into his hands instead of reaching out to shake hers. It was a general principle of his - stay clean when you could manage it, avoid dirt if it was possible. He both had the opportunity to stay clean and avoid dirt in this case. Which was maybe the same thing, but made sense in Alasdair's head so shush.

"It was for my class at Hogwarts," he mumbled, but only to be ignored while she sounded out the letters to the title like a first year. And she blew on the cover? So now he had her spit on his cover too? Well fabulous! Luckily, she put it down, and then went on a rampage of verbal vomit, and Alasdair couldn't have butted in even if he had cared to. And so instead, he pulled the still quite warm book into his arms, and cradled it to his chest, getting soot all over his shirt in a way that was probably irreparable. His mum would kill him, but in the very moment, all he needed to do was make sure that this girl wouldn't get closer to his book. Or anything, really. It was like this book was a magnet for bad luck. BOO HISS.

And finally, when she paused, he just narrowed his eyes to slits, and clutched his book (and his manly tote) to his chest. "You are an awful sort of human being," he declared, before he scrambled to his feet using no hands to lever him up. "And very silly!" He stomped his foot and remained looking at her. Alasdair = sour puss for sure.

Posted by: Ivy Ballantine Jan 9 2008, 11:16 AM

Maeve's knickers...what was it with boys and awful attitudes? Was it just a British thing? Ivy never had this problem at home, with her brothers and sparse neighbors. But this was the second boy her age who had yelled at her. It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. The first boy, Nico, had just been knocked over and lost his precious shopping list because of her, but she had helped him find it again. And this boy, all that had happened was she had caught his textbook on fire, and she had helped put that out too. What was the big deal anyways? He could at least shake her hand. She glanced down and saw that it was sooty, and gave him a suspicious look. He was another pansy too, wasn't he? But then he went and hugged a bloody book and got soot all over him. Who in their right mind went around hugging books rather than shaking hands? This boy must have some serious priority issues.

"Excuse me!" she exclaimed when he called her a silly and awful human being, "The only silly person here is you! You're, you're the one fondling that bleedin', smelly old book like it's a teddy!" She squinted her eyes angrily at him, trying to stare him down and get across the fact that she had done nothing wrong and he was the one to blame for all his angst. But it didn't last long. That expression on his face was so heartbrokenly pathetic that she had to laugh about it, so she broke into laughter. "You look ridiculous," she added. "What a baby. Anyways, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hit your book or anythin', it just happened, so you'll have to deal with it."

She turned her head up and away and crossed her arms. It was rather difficult to look aloof when one is sitting on the ground, however, so she stood up and gave up on the look. Instead she tapped her finger on her chin and examined him. "Alasdair McCandlish," she repeated. "That's a funny name. Do you have any nicknames? How about Aly? I think it suits you."

Ahaha. She amused herself. Let's see how he reacted to that one. Experience had already shown that giving boys girly nicknames resulted in them getting very upset, and she was interested to see how this sour puss would react to such treatment. She hoped it would be badly. Then she would have more reason to tease him, and quite possibly knock him out of his funk. Verbal abuse was great for that. But in the meantime...

"I had to get this book too, if you'd like you can borrow it until you get a better copy." She didn't mention that, like everything else she owned, it was a second-hand hand-me-down that was prone to losing chunks of pages if one didn't open it carefully. "Is this your first time going to Hogwarts? It is for me, none of my brothers or sisters have gone there before so I get to find out what it's like without them. I bet it will be bleedin' deadly! Is it true that they place you in different houses with an old hat? Do the staircases really move? And the ceiling, is it actually like the sky? I don't know if I believe all that will be there but you never know, it's magic, right? I've seen weirder things and I'm only eleven! Have you ever seen a selkie? My da saw a whole load of them once when he was out to sea, he accidentally caught one in his net and since he set it free without hurting it they helped him home once in a bad storm. He says me ma is descended from a selkie because her eyes are dark and enchanting, but that's gross and whenever they start talking like that me brothers'n'I tackle them so they'll be quiet."

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Jan 24 2008, 09:22 PM

He really did just loathe this girl to an extent that was rather extreme. She called Dair silly, and didn't even apologize, and called his book bleedin' and smelly. "The only reason it's smelly is because you touched it!" he yelled back, coddling the book...yes. Like a teddy. No, Ivy wasn't justified in her comments. Why do you ask?

Alasdair squinted back at her just as fiercely, until, rudeness of all rudeness, she LAUGHED at him. And called him a BABY?!? Alasdair was really really unhappy and his book was RUINED FOREVER and oh my lord, this girl was really just awful. Ivy Ballantine? More like Ivy FromHellAndFurther-ine. "I wouldn't have to deal with it if you could keep your bloody fire bombs to yourself," he added matter-of-factly. And Alasdair was definitely not a baby, so she could just zip her lip right now and everyone would be pleased. Especially this little boy.

She crossed her arms, Dair hugged the book closer to himself, and continued to glare. "I don't care what you call me, because I won't listen to you." Neener neener neeeeenerrrrr. Although. Aly? Erlack. That was awful. If only there was a way to make something awful out of her name! Ivy...Schmivy. Gosh, it was all bad, and not nearly as scathing as he wanted. What a pity. He couldn't pwn Ivy Stupidface Ballantine with his intellect and wit this time!

"I had to get this book too, if you'd like you can borrow it until you get a better copy."

That was...actually a pretty nice offer. Maybe Ivy wasn't so bad! Until he realized that he couldn't get a better copy because, oh yeah, his family were paupers. Sweet. And then she started talking and talking and talking and he couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise because, well, she just kept on talking and talking. It wasn't as if Alasdair wanted to continue speaking with the She Devil anyway, so right about when she started to talk about selkies, Alasdair did the most sensible thing he could think of.

He turned around and walked away.

A Scot in King Cross's Court

2008-01-30T00:47:35Z

ROLEPLAY: A Scot in King Cross's Court
Phoebus Alexanders
King's Cross -> Platform 9 3/4
abandoned -- original link

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 26 2007, 12:25 AM

Picadilly Circus would perhaps have less mayhem than King's Cross Station on September the first. And it wasn't as if the entire troupe of McCandlishes were the only ones contributing to the crowd. Yes, it was the extended family too! Great Aunt Mary who would walk him through the barrier to the train, and the grandparents who just wished to see the "one like his mother" disappear through a brick wall. So yes, there were the five McCandlish children/young adults, two parents, a Great Aunt, and a grandfather, and a grandmother. And Alasdair couldn't imagine that he could be surrounded by any more people during his entire life. There were oodles of other children who looked to be his age milling around the station. It was probably not even just Hogwarts students, but all the other children who left for boarding school on September the first.

It was a zoo. There were even people with owls and toads to prove that hypothesis.

"Calvin, stop trying to skip the cracks," Dair's younger brother was chided by his mother as his arm, and adjoined body, was yanked along.

"Bessie, slower, Grandpa and Grandma are falling behind!"

"Gilbert, stop making jokes at Alasdair. I didn't get to go to Hogwarts either so stop being cross," came from Trudy, Alasdair's sister who perhaps thought a little bit too highly of her own ideas at some point. At the moment, he was grateful. That is, of course, until Mackenzie dropped the trunk he was lugging along, and he swore. And Alasdair frowned. And he stopped, halting the entire party of McCandlishes and company.

"You all really needn't..." he began to voice for the thousandth time, utterly distracted by the presence of all his family members. He was able to handle them generally. But today, not so much. Not with the nervous butterflies in his stomach, and the fifty three pounds of books spread throughout his two trunks, and the tiny little bottles that held the contents of his first potions kit, and the parchment of paper clasped to his breast that told him that indeed he was a wizard and that indeed he SHOULD be here with magical things, and a wand, and everything. He had a right to be here! And he was carrying it so closely to him just in case he had to prove it, either to himself, his family, or to other people he came along.

"Shush, DairDan," the boy's father said, waving a hand at him after finally catching up with his grandparents. "Nine and three quarters? In the name of the wee man!" He looked puzzled. Dair's eyes gazed towards the heavens, and Great Aunt Mary chimed in. "It's through a brick wall, between nine and ten, nubskull. Yon." She pointed in some which way. And yet...lo and behold, the entire family began to heatedly discuss the validity of said platform, and how exactly did they expect students with no magical family to get to this place! A load of codswallop!

Dair merely melted out of the circle that was surrounding him, and began to wander just a tiny bit away from them. He was looking for platform nine, of course. And the plus side of him being able to find it would mean that he could get rid of his bickering family that much sooner.

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 26 2007, 02:15 AM

"Of course the platform is still here," Emilie Alexanders shouted to her husband over the roar of the crowds of people. "Mind Gabriella, would you?!" Basil Alexanders, the head of the family, dodged a trunk whizzing by as it sailed through barrier they had been searching for and lunged for his second-youngest daughter. "Gabby, you can't run away from the family while mummy's got the baby." Gabriella, who was hardly past 'baby' herself, chewed on a strand of hair and watched her father reproachfully. Basil, already distracted, was waylaid by a screaming Charlotte who was wailing about wanting an owl of her own because they're so pretty daddy, it's not fair.

The man pried himself free from his daughter and grabbed his second eldest son by the arm. "Hold onto the girls, would you? Or at least one of them. Priscilla, you get the other. Lucien, will you take Phoebus through? It's around here somewhere isn't it?" As Basil looked around wildly for the barrier he was standing right in front of, he gestured to his wife helplessly, "Is this it, Emilie? It is? Good--you know I can never tell the difference between the real ones and the, you know, magic ones.." Twirling around as he saw Robin clinging to his legs, Basil sighed, exasperated. "Priscilla, I told you t--Priscilla?"

"Just remember," the tall blonde girl told her little brother. "You got the letter, and you're going to a school for wizardry. It's really special! So don't take it for granted, and don't act up, or they might have a reason to kick you out!" She released Phoebus's shoulder and he glared up at her. "I know that," he snapped at her, and she just kept beaming down at him, with that perpetual knowing smile of hers that made Phoebus want to jump in front of the train. On the bright side, though, he was definitely the man of the hour, which left his macho big brother pushing Phoebus's trunk. It felt pretty awesome to have a slave.

"Phoebus," Emilie called, catching her son with an arm around his neck which caused him to choke immediately, "just remember if your robes end up getting too short, you can just rip the stitching out. I hemmed them so that they'll be at least a couple inches longer if you take out the thread. Just make sure you don't ruin the actual fabric, alright?" Phoebus groaned. "Aw mum," he said, and she ignored him. "Ready Basil? I'll be back soon." She squeezed the man's hand reassuringly and there were hugs and kisses and goodbyes to Phoebus as the family left for the car so as not to look suspicious. Emilie smooched her son on the forehead though she was going to see him again in thirty seconds, and then headed towards the brick column. Phoebus scrunched one eye shut, but watched through the other one as his mum vanished into the other side of the platform.

Priscilla went next, holding her head high and looking as if she belonged nowhere else. "See you on the other side Phee!" she said brightly, and vanished as well. Phoebus glanced over his shoulder at the eldest in their family, Lucien, who was drumming his fingers against the trolley that held his trunk. "It's our turn, then," the young man said haughtily, and Phoebus nodded. "Can I ride the cart?" he asked. Lucien rolled his eyes, but Phoebus hopped on anyway.. and knocked a bag over and spilled a bottle of ink, another of which rolled away. Lucien grumbled. "Go fetch it, then. I'm going to go through so that maybe Priscilla and I can get your trunk on the train and I'll explain what happened. Go get it!"

All too aware that this was probably an evil plot for his family to leave him behind, Phoebus dashed to scoop up the inkbottle and there was a weird sucking noise behind him--then Lucien was gone. "Jerk," Phoebus muttered, then glanced around. No way he was going through that thing by himself. What if he couldn't get through, and just bounced off or something? Not only would that be embarrassing, but it would probably hurt. A lot. He was going to wait for someone else with a weird looking trunk to come along. As a boy wandered close by, looking a little conspicuous, Phoebus jumped up from his squatting position by the spilled ink. "Hey! Hey you!" ..oh crud, he knew this kid. "Oh, it's you! So you're going to nine and three-quarters too? Well, it's right there, but my family's already gone through. Would you mind if I went with you?" Even if he did mind, Phoebus was going to jump on his trolley anyway. No WAY he was getting left here.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 28 2007, 01:01 AM

It should not have been surprising that if one McCandlish child was able to slip away, another one would be able to just as easily. And what a pity at that, too. Two children missing was much easier to notice than just one missing. Especially the quieter one of the bunch. But when Alasdair noticed that Calvin had wandered off in the same direction as him, he couldn't help but roll his eyes sky-high and let out an impatient sigh. If only his family could stop bickering, his mother could have maybe stopped giving birth after him, and they could all be accepting of his new and exciting magical nature, well, that would be right fabulous.

Like the dutiful older brother that he was, Alasdair walked over to Calvin and clamped his hand around his slightly younger brother's arm. Sure, Dair was only two years and a few inches taller, but it was still good to exercise the power that he did have. "Mum's gonna yell at you when she discovers you've run off again," he muttered, starting to steer the nine year old around to deliver him back to the group. Hopefully if he did it craftily enough, his parents or other adult relatives wouldn't notice the flummoxing amount of children, and then Dair could go slink off into the shadows again. It would be nice to not be affiliated with the monstrous clan of boisterous Scots.

And yet, Dair's attention was drawn not to his own family, but an even larger group of people. Their voices carried over the din, and there were children all about...It was a similar view, one that reminded Dair of his own family. It was almost...comforting. And all of a sudden, mayhem happened, ink got spilled, people got sucked through walls (THERE was the bloody platform entrance!) and Dair was greeted by that fellow from the time he had looked up that girl's skirts.

Not that it was a memory he held fondly. Nor was it a memory he wanted ANY of his family to learn either.

"Go back to Mum," he instructed, releasing his grip on his brother's arm, and then shoving Calvin away from him. "Yea, I am," he interjected slightly, while the kid kept on rambling. With wide eyes, he watched as the other boy's family continued to walk away, and indeed, towards the McCandlish entourage. "Yes!"

"Err, I mean no! I don't mind." In fact, Dair might even be glad to have a friend to go through a brick wall with. "Yes, that'd be great," he said a twitch of his lips. Beginnings of a smile, even on that nervous and embarassed face? Yea, Phoebus Alexanders might be a good person to have around on a train ride of epic proportions. He seemed to be strong enough to at least help him lug his heavy trunks through to the train. His eyes drifted across, to where the trunks were, right near the McCandlishes.

And oh codswallop, Calvin hadn't gone back to Mother at all. "No, Calvin," he yelled, annoyed. "Go back to mum!" There he was, bothering some blonde young girl, and, wait. Did he push her? "Calvinnnn," he groaned, "you're gonna ruin EVERYTHING!" he exclaimed. " 'Scuse," he murmured to Phoebus, and then rushed over to Calvin. "You're such a brat," he whined before he reached out and poked him in the back.

"She was stepping on a crack!" Calvin fumed.

"Can't you all go HOME already?" Grumble.

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 31 2007, 08:28 PM

There was a brief moment when Phoebus stopped watching the other boy expectantly and instead was distracted, peering down at the small figure who had joined them and seemed to be eyeing them as if waiting for something exciting to happen. "Uh, hello," Phoebus said down to him, and the boy from the robe shop (who had looked up Susan's skirts) shoved him away towards their mum. So they were brothers, then. "So that's your brother, then?"

Yep. Phoebus's blue eyes turned back to (...Aladdin? Alastair? ALASDAIR.) Alasdair, and he scratched the back of his neck. A little more ferociously than necessary, probably. "Ouch," he said, poking the scraped skin to see if he'd drawn blood. Thankfully he hadn't. "Oh, look," the taller boy said. "My family started heading for the car. Guess they got sidetracked. Is that your clan?" He stood on his toes to glance over Alasdair's head. "I hope they don't actually talk. My family will bore yours to death and then you'd have nobody to write home to all year."

He came back down on his heels and rocked slightly. "Anyway, we'll go through together? Great!" Well that was all settled. He didn't even have a trunk to take care of. That was a pretty nice feeling. He was positive that Lucien was spinning some crazy story about Phoebus flooding the normal platforms with ink, but that wasn't true. Gods, the guy was so useless. He was supposedly such a great wizard, why couldn't he just wave his wand and cause the ink to clear itself up? Weren't there spells that could do that.

"I hate useless brothers," Phoebus said on a groan, coincidentally as Alasdair's brother seemed to be fraternizing with Charlotte. "And sisters," he added. "Charlotte, leave the other kids alone." The blonde girl pushed her little pink tongue out at him and blew a bit of a raspberry; had he been any closer he would have been rained on by kid spit. Irritated at her ~~deplorable~~ adorable display of defiance, Phoebus thought about throwing the contents of his pockets at her, but when he pulled his hand out and there was money there, he decided against it. She wasn't worth his pocket change.

Pleased as Alasdair's brother nearly shoved Charlotte over the edge and onto the train tracks, Phoebus felt a frown on his face as the boy tried to send the kids back to their parents. "Oh, let them fight, I promise you she'll push back.." Once Alasdair had separated the kids and returned, Phoebus grabbed his arm. "Come on, if we go now we can just sneak away. I mean.." he cringed. "If you still need to say your goodbyes, and all, we can wait." He didn't really want to see his family again and have them asking about his 'new friend' and exchanging stories and greetings and the like. He had conveniently forgotten that the rest of his family was on the other side of the barrier, waiting to ambush him and his sortofmaybe new friend.

"Or we could skip the awkwardness and go right through, you're just going to write them as soon as you get there, right?" Phoebus tugged a little on Alasdair's arm. "I'll help you push the trunk, if you like. Just think." He glanced hurriedly at their families and pulled the boy close to whisper just past his ear, his eyes flicking downwards as he did so. "But a little independence never hurt, right? You'll be able to get away right this minute and we'll be off. To magic." It was a little presumptuous of him to assume that Alasdair was as excited about being a wizard as he was, but if they were going to be friends, he'd have to see things eventually from the taller boy's point of view. On a grander scale, that is.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 31 2007, 10:07 PM

With a great look of unhappiness on his face, Alasdair nodded. Indeed, that was his disgustingly annoying lump of a brother. There was just something so innately horrid about the nine year old Calvin. In any case, he was just going to ruin everything if Dair didn't get rid of him in time. Alasdair began to propel the boy away from him and ...Prometheus? Daedalus? Phoebus? [/copying] Phoebus! continued to chat to himself about some wound he had just inflicted upon himself. Had Alasdair not been so worried about the tremendous scene his family was going to cause, he might have worried about exactly the type of company he was putting himself into for the entire train ride. The types of kid who scratched off their own skin were not usually the most 'winning' of mates. In any case, Alasdair was far too preoccupied by the true idiot of the bunch (Calvin, you've won the prize!) to worry very much about that sort of thing.

"Yeah, that's the fam," he admitted over his shoulder as he began to drift away, just so he could push Calvin along some more. Until the boy was a good five paces away, at least. When the irritating little brunette was far enough, Alasdair hopped back to Phoebus's side.

"I hate useless brothers," Phoebus said, and as if on cue, Alasdair turned his head around to view his little brother once more. 'Go to mum go to mum go to mum' Alasdair mentally beamed into the back of his brother's head, and wouldn't you know it, but said little brother did exactly the opposite. "Calvin," he yelled, "Stop trying to murder girls," he overdramatized before turning back to Phoebus for a second as he spoke. "She can't push back if she's on the tracks," he logically commented, before trotting over to the pair of INFIDELS. I mean siblings.

As soon as the two heathens were separated, he felt a gentle tug on his arm, and there Phoebus was. This might almost be considered stalking. Pushy, the guy was, wasn't he?

And yet, he made perfect sense. Ditch them all now, leave them forever!!!! Buahahahhaha. Or at least for three months. Errrrgh. "I'll help you push the trunk, if you like. Just think." And therein, Alasdair knew that Phoebus was so utterly right. And Alasdair wanted to be his friend and not his enemy. Turning away from his family (who were so fantastically oblivious to their middle son's tarrying actions and their youngest son's homocidal tendencies) Alasdair gazed just slightly upwards into Phee's eyes. The taller boy whispered to Dair, and he tempted him. Independence, and getting away, and magic. Oh, the allure. It struck a chord in Alasdair's mind. A small smirk graced his lips, and it slowly spread to a genuine smile. Stepping back from his new comrade in adventures unrealized and yet to come, Dair nodded. "Yes. Let me just grab my second trunk," he whispered conspiratorially.

With a cheeky grin at his fellow blonde, Dair followed his brother over to the large McCandlish - Docherty clan and with a very clever yank, pulled his trunk away from all of them. It wasn't until he was loading onto his cart that somebody even began to notice that Alasdair was being sly and cunning and devious and all those sorts of things. "Alasdair, who's that," came from Trudy, always willing to butt her head in. "That's his new friend," got hollered by Calvin, also always willing to butt his head in. And also, apparently, willing to kill Phoebus's sister. Which Phoebus was cool with. Gosh, Dair and Phee were gonna be such good friends.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," announced Alasdair as he straightened his back, having finally wrestled the trunk onto his cart. "I'll write when I get sorted," he spoke as he turned his back to them and waved over his head.

"Jamie, go after him," gasped Bessie.

"Bessie, control that son of yours," commanded Great Aunt Mary.

"Alasdair, come back here and say goodbye," got sternly called by Jamie.

"Phoebus, let's get the heck out of here," was finally whispered under Alasdair's breath. He aligned the heavy cart to properly get through the wall, and with a deep breath, glanced at Phoebus, at his family, and with a wave, said goodbye to the whole pack of them for a glorious three months.

"Ready for Hogwarts!?"

The Travesty of a Lost Tome

2008-01-30T00:32:25Z

ROLEPLAY: The Travesty of a Lost Tome
Georgie March
Diagon Alley -> Flourish & Blotts
abandoned -- original link

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 24 2007, 03:35 AM

Alasdair was certain that Quentin Trimble, and by association, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, the book authored by said Trimble, was attempting to prevent his transfer of schools to Hogwarts. Trimble was probably in cahoots with his father. Or his mother, for that matter. His father was so muggle-ish and not very fond of the fact that his wife had passed on her partially faulty magical genes to his son. His mother...well. His mother was probably just a little bit wistful that she had turned out as a squib, and yet, her half-blood son could do better magic before he had even been schooled than she had her entire life. Or maybe the fact that this particular textbook had eluded the boy was the fault of one of his many siblings. In any case, it was three days until the train for Hogwarts left, the muggy weather of August was bearing down on the boy, and Trimble's book was missing. And he couldn't, for the life of him, find it.

And it was MISSING. And he needed that book before school started.

Which was why his mother had shipped him off to Diagon Alley through the grandparents' floo system to purchase yet another copy of the very large tome. It hadn't been a happy trip, it wasn't as if the McCandlishes could afford multiple copies of the expensive books. The first copy that Dair had bought...it had been used, but in pretty good shape. This copy? Oh, it was ratty and smelled faintly of what might be newt and the spine was slightly ripped off at the top. It was in a sad state. And yet, Alasdair hugged it to his chest as soon as he found it, desperate to not let another copy of the book slip out of his sight.

He'd be sleeping with this book under his pillow for the next two nights, just to make sure that Quentin Trimble did not escape him a second time. The phrase 'constant vigilance' might have popped into the kid's head, had he opened the book and read a chapter of it already.

Opening the book and reading a segment while waiting in queue to pay for the item was out of the question, however, as that would mean that he would pay less attention to the things surrounding him. And let's be honest...having grandparents do magic was lovely and all, but you really didn't get the full experience of a magical world until you were in a shopping center, absorbing all the action, sounds, smells, and sights. (And yes, that might include the sight of the girl with the red hair in front of him. Bloody bright and shiny red hair, too. Blinding? Maybe. Would he tell her? Obviously not.)

Posted by: Georgie March Dec 24 2007, 08:45 AM

Throughout her active career as a redhead, Georgie March had developed a tendency of standing out. The last nanny she had ever had as a child once offered an explanation for this:

Like flames of the devil, that hair is - I have nightmares about that hair, always flitting to and fro, getting up to all sorts of business where it ought not to be. Blazing something wicked - something red.

Georgie was eight years old upon receiving such a description, for it was at this age that she informed her parents that she did not need a nanny and would not have one, thankyouverymuch. Her parents had agreed. She did not need a nanny, they said, but rather a stout, healthy woman who had been trained as a prison wardress.

It had become increasingly difficult at this point to find nannies for Georgie. Presumably word had spread. But the situation mended itself, for the abovementioned nanny walked out of her own volition, never to return.

And so that was the end of nannies. Though not the end of that hair.

"Georgienne Louise, you can't spend all afternoon with your nose in the books or your rear on a broom - you will be fitted for dress-robes within the hour."

"I won't!"

Georgie was always shocking people. This was an excellent quality, she might have argued, if she had actually cared for the opinions of others; a girl who was dull and predictable was also predictably boring. And Georgie was not boring.

Therefore, it was with only the best theatrical flair that the little girl fainted.

Oh yes - such a clever act.

And she had flopped right across the shoes of the poor, unsuspecting boy waiting patiently behind her in the book queue.

Her mother only rolled her eyes heavenward. The fainting spell again. This was Georgie's most efficient method of avoidance. And so her mother turned on her heel - fuming and seething and veritably blowing steam out the ears - muttering something to the effect of, Just wait until I find your father.

One large olive eye peeked open. Dimples.

Georgie March had struck again.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 24 2007, 04:14 PM

This Alasdair-boy was Most Certainly with capital letters not trying to listen in on the blindingly ginger girl in front of him. Well...maybe he was. But that was only because she might be a potential suspect if his book were to ever go missing. Gotta know your surroundings, suspect everyone. Ask questions in your head constantly, shoot now, ask more questions later. That's basically how Alasdair McCandlish rolled, for real. Georgienne Louise her name was...or at least that's what her mother called her. And in retrospect, Dair didn't quite blame the girl for retorting so vehemently. If he was named Georgienne Lousie he'd be likely to not respond to that name indeed. Alasdair Daniel was much more suitable.

Oh, but when she fell, Alasdair was a little bit taken aback. She was little, so at least she didn't have far to fall. And yet...had she meant to do that? Was she hurt? Should Alasdair be kneeling and helping her? How does one act in a situation like this? And yet, when he peered over his book at the girl's mother who just blew air through her teeth and then flounced away, Alasdair was..."dair" (haha pun!) he say it, amused? This was clever.

Cocking his head to the right, and then staring down at the girl who was draped so inelegantly across his shoes, he watched her as she peeked up at him, and a smile grew on her face. A show of happiness spread throughout Alasdair's face as well, and his lips were pulled into a smile to mirror the girl's. Georgienne Louise's.

"Pardon me, but you are lying on my shoes."

And then doing something fairly out of character for him, he pulled a hand away from his precious book, and dropped it down to her. She could use it to pull herself up with. Having Dair's shoes in the small of her back couldn't be all that comfortable either. "Your mum is gone, by the way," he whispered conspiratorially.

Posted by: Georgie March Dec 24 2007, 04:58 PM

"Pardon me, but you are lying on my shoes."

A flicker of uncharacteristically girlish lashes, and both eyes were opened wide. Wide, and mischievous. And how they sparkled with the life of her dimples! A darling rascal disguised as a cherub. It was a clever act, indeed.

"I'm sorry. But they were in my way."

And - in a flash! - those eyes were concealed by their lashes once more. Georgie March was indeed fearless, though discovery was something that could not be risked. But honestly, she looked nothing more than a little red fox playing dead. Playing dead on a poor, unsuspecting boy's shoes.

"Your mum is gone, by the way."

She would have applauded him on his secretive tone, had she not been playing dead. Though such an act was now deemed unnecessary. There was a flicker of pale emerald, and those bright irises sprang to life.

Dimples, again.

"That was right fiddlesticks." Translation: Job well done, that was easy.

And with that, the little girl rolled off his shoes in a tousle of auburn and freckles.

But did she take his offered hand? No, Miss March stood on her own two feet.

Instead, a hearty handshake was given.

"Thanks, mate."

Ladylike, Red. ~~Not~~.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 24 2007, 05:31 PM

Georgie was quite an impish sort of girl. To be quite honest, Alasdair was impressed with her "play dead" facade, and how she was able to apologize for lying on his shoes out of the corner of her mouth while...indeed, still playing dead. And oh, look! Her eyes closed again. Had Alasdair not known better, he indeed would have thought that she was dead.

Okay, that was a lie. Dair wasn't that dense, thanks. But still...he was amused. "Oh, well then that's okay," he murmured, as he gazed on at the miniature redhead being oh so ridiculous.

The boy's brownish eyes flickered around the people inside the book shop. Surely they were drawing some sort of negative attention. Or some sort of attention, to be sure. This girl seemed to thrive off it for the whole thirty seconds that he'd known her, and she'd likely stop if she wasn't being watched. (And lo and behold, Dair had unlocked the mystery behind this girl's personality in under a minute! What a right smart child he was!)

Yes, the person behind them in the line was looking fairly bemused. The people in front of the line had yet to turn around and watch Georgie and company mainly because of Alasdair's cautionary whispers. He was soooooo stealthy.

And by the time he had turned his attention back to the girl on the floor, she indeed was the Girl Not On The Floor. Congrats on graduating from being a rugrat, Miss March. Dair's hand was yanked and pommeled, not exactly how he had been expecting, but a handshake was good enough. "Well, any time," he spluttered, the thick tome in his left hand slipping from his grasp. With a mighty hip bump of sorts, he pushed it back into his arms, and then withdrew his arm from the girl.

"I'm Alasdair. Where are the books you're buying, or are you standing in queue for nothing?"

Posted by: Georgie March Dec 24 2007, 08:19 PM

If she and the boy were the recipients of any glances or stares, Georgie pretended not to notice.

Or otherwise didn't care. Which was more likely.

The redhead belonged to no one. No one but herself. This was liberating. Georgie often wondered why others didn't try it. But to each their own, and - if ~~sometimes~~ always bold - she was at least respectful (even pitiable) toward those who lacked her freedom. Not everyone was as blessed.

"Georgie."

And so the pair were introduced.

Personally, she sneezed at such formalities. They were a nuisance. Besides, formalities wouldn't be called formalities if they weren't obligations that were just as soon done away with.

Personally, she thought society was nonsense.

Personally, she preferred her own world.

In fact, Miss March personally preferred a lot of things. And one of these things were boys. After all, she fancied herself one of them.

Her poor mother.

"Where are the books you're buying, or are you standing in queue for nothing?"

Georgie never did anything for nothing. At least she could always find a reason to justify herself when there previously existed none. She was rather good at that. But this time, her motives were genuine. And she explained this while stuffing her hands in her pockets. Boyishly.

"I'm waiting to ask a question."

She would be vague. Though never one to beat around the bush (Heavens no, the girl was far too honest and outspoken for that!), she sometimes liked to draw her answers out. It was entertaining.

"`cause I've been looking for this book for the past twenty-three hours and still haven't found it."

So, that was an exaggeration. But this was Georgie.

"It's by some bloke named.." And it was here that she scrunched up that freckled nose in thought, uplifting the olive of her clever eyes to study the ceiling, as if the author's name was written there. "Trimble." Her gaze flickered back to the boy in an instant. "Quentin Trimble. It's a book for school."

And the little girl offered a shrug.

Oh, yes. No matter those elusive books. Everything was still just hunky-dory for Georgie March.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 25 2007, 02:55 AM

"Formalities " was definitely the right word to use for it. Right dull things they were, but generally important to the survival of oh, modern humanity. Luckily for Alasdair, he was delighted by the mundane, intrigued by the ordinary. Why else would he find such fascination and hours of pleasure from books heaver than his head and thicker than his waist?

Indeed, the banal, commonplace things were fine for Alasdair, unless they included social interaction. Then he was much more of the wallflower type. And yet...this girl, this Georgie (not Georgienne Louise, it seemed) was everything that Alasdair wasn't. And he wasn't repulsed by her actions yet! In fact, he did quite like her.

"I'm waiting to ask a question."

Oh yes indeed, he liked her! Questions were lovely! A brow was raised, and the girl finally continued her line of thinking. I mean, if she wanted to leave it there, that's fine. She just didn't seem like the one to really hold anything back. Alasdair and her had got on pretty famously for the few moments that they'd known each other. No sense in keeping something a secret, as he was pretty sure that they'd be teaching the other their life stories any moment now. Or, at least, she would be. A couple of well-phrased questions would get Dair waxing poetic in no time, however.

And indeed, he liked her, until she mentioned The Devil! Also known as Quentin Trimble, the Man Who Ran Away from Alasdair a Numerous Amount of Times. She WOULD have to bring up that awful man, wouldn't she?

The boy's eyes narrowed oh so slightly when her's met his. She needed it for school indeed! Pah! Was she trying to get his? The boy clutched his tome to his chest even more tightly. "I have one of the last copies in the store," he finally admitted. He pointed his right index finger at the book pinned underneath his left arm. "I won't give you mine," he continued, weighing his options mentally. "But I could tell you where they are in the store."

Yes, Alasdair wasn't all bad.

I feel sort of bad not knowing your name

2008-01-30T00:15:44Z

ROLEPLAY: I feel sort of bad not knowing your name.
Phoebus Alexanders, Susan Radcliffe
Diagon Alley -> Madam Malkin's
abandoned -- original link

Posted by: Susan Radcliffe Dec 3 2007, 08:23 PM

Something just wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but well... it just didn’t LOOK like it should. Wrinkling her nose, Susan Radcliffe tugged on the sleeve of her robe, measuring it to make sure it was the same length as its twin. No, that wasn’t it. What could it be? Grr. Where was her mother at? Why hadn’t she stayed in the store to make sure the school robes fit properly? Her mother would of course know what was wrong with it after the briefest of glances. Alas, her mother had left her and gone to the Apothecary around the corner trusting her well behaved daughter to try on the robes and alert the matronly shopkeeper if there were any problems before heading along to the apothecary to get the last of her Hogwarts supplies.

The train would be leaving in a matter of days and Susan’s mother had left picking up the robes and the potion supplies to the last minute, quite unusual for her mother to wait until the last minute. Then again, since Susan has been fitted for them over a month ago it was no surprise that her very busy mother had forgotten they’d need to be picked up. Perhaps it was the numerous trips they had made for things that her mother insisted she’d need that were not on her school list that had her mother thinking the robes had been picked up. Who knew really? Susan thought she did, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t need quite as much stuff as her mother had packed.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Susan chimed sticking her head between the curtain that separated the changing room from the main store. “I...think this pleat is off,” she said finally wrinkling her nose and parting the curtain, stepping outwards for the shop attendant to assess. “Just there” she said, pointing at the irritating seam as the attendant let out an exaggerated sigh and motioned her to step up on one of the platforms to be repined. At least she’d figured out what the problem with the robes was.

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 3 2007, 09:19 PM

"But Priscilla, it looks awful."

"That's because it's on you, dear."

Phoebus glared at his older sister as he held a set of robes up to himself and looked down his front. They were far too long, even for his steadily-growing eleven-year-old self, and he could tell just by looking at them that the sleeves were going to be at least down to his toes. He should have known even before he opened his mouth that he wasn't going to get any help from the young woman who'd brought him here. She was far too busy admiring a pink dress robe that was worth more than she was in the mirror, probably coming to the sad realization that their family would never be able to afford it.

"Forget it, sis. You know it looks better on the hanger than on you anyway," Phoebus said helpfully, hitching up the sides of the school robes to see what they'd look like if they were more his size. Not much better. Priscilla turned to glower at him, her bright blue eyes sparking behind a mess of curly blonde hair. "What an awful thing for you to say to me! How could that be? Do they not match my hair?" Phoebus grinned. "Nah, you're just fat." He dodged the pincushion that she hurled at him and quickly ducked behind a rack of second-hand robes.

They smelled like grandmas.

"Ugh!" he commented, swallowing a gag, then pushed through a particularly lacy one and also a vomit-color green one, managing to come out on the other side. "Well, that was an adventure," he thought, getting to his feet and glancing at the robes he still had slung over his shoulder. Oh, he'd kneeled on them a little. In the dust. Making sure nobody was looking, Phoebus brushed them off a little then put them on the second-hand rack, reaching for similar black robe that would hopefully do just as nicely for a good hemming. He couldn't afford completely new ones and was just too large for any of the family hand-me-downs, so it was time to face the facts: He was getting a used robe.

He stood outside the curtain that split the shop in two, folding the robes over his arm and hesitating, his blonde-streaked blonde hair falling thickly over his ears. Well time to get poked with lots of pins. He shoved the curtain aside. "Hi, can I--" ARG! A GIRL! "Sorry!" he shouted and raked the curtain shut again. He was going to be killed. With lots of pins.

Posted by: Susan Radcliffe Dec 3 2007, 09:37 PM

’Is that better dearie, asked the very harassed looking shop attendant that had for the better part of thirty minutes been fussing with a pleat in Susan Radcliffe’s robes. Susan couldn’t help it that it had taken almost thirty minutes but well... the pleat wasn’t straight and she couldn’t wear these robes to every class for the next year with a crooked pleat. It would drive her mad no doubt. Seams had to be straight, hems had to be tucked and for Merlin’s sake, where was her mother? It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to buy a potions kit should it? No doubt her mother had bought out every single newt eye in the place so that Susan would be ‘adequately’ supplied.

“Uh...” Susan started fidgeting slightly before spinning around and looking at her reflection, her loose and somewhat mouse-y brown hair brushing against her cheeks only to be tucked behind her ears and out of the way. “Well... the pleat is better but what about this he---“

Cut off mid sentence as the curtain was pulled open, Susan looked up anticipating her mother. Gasping in surprise when it wasn’t her mother but a tossled haired boy, Susan jumped slightly as he yelped, there was no other word for it really, and quickly pulled the curtain shut. Yelping herself as the shop attendant jabbed her with a pin, also startled by the boy, Susan frowned in displeasure before hopping off of the platform and pulling back the curtain with a little more force than was necessary.

It wasn’t that she cared that the boy had (assumingly) mistakenly opened the curtain, she was fully clothed so he wasn’t some perv trying to get a free show, but well... she’d gotten jabbed with a pin and it had hurt! That wasn’t acceptable, not at all.

“Excuse me,” she said tapping the boy on the shoulder as he frantically looked for somewhere to hide. She assumed that’s what she was doing at any rate. “Excuse me,” she said again, “Running away is quite rude you know, and I want an apology as I got jabbed by a very sharp pin.” The yelped ‘Sorry!’ he’d exclaimed before fleeing wasn’t going to cut it.

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 3 2007, 10:00 PM

“Excuse me,” the girl said, emerging from behind the curtain. Oh come on! He was too young to die! He hadn't even seen his first day at Hogwarts yet! "Please don't kill me," he simpered, afraid she was going to grab him by the front of the shirt and shake him until all the money he had was gone and also possibly his head would roll off. She seemed pretty ladylike, wouldn't she be upset if she caused his head to roll off? Or would that just be really impolite of him to lose his head? Heh heh, lose his head. Kind of like what he was doing now!

"I'm--I'm sorry," Phoebus stuttered, leaning away from her in surprise. She got quite close to him as she scolded him and he could practically feel the heat rising to his face as she glared at him. He'd never actually been this close to a girl before. His first instinct was to freak out that she was in his bubble and punch her, but he thought that would probably be construed as impolite too. Besides it was only an impulse. He'd never actually hit a girl! Unless it was one of his sisters. Or one of his brothers. Haha, get it? His brothers were girls, like--nevermind.

Her eyes were really superbly green, Phoebus noted as she watched him expectantly. Was he supposed to be talking? She'd asked him a question, right? Had she asked him his name? Probably not, judging from the look on her face. Well it was just as well, he was so scared he didn't think he could really remember his name at the moment anyway. It started with a P, he was pretty sure. "I, uh." What was the question? Just ask what the question was. Are you sure there was a question? There might not have been.

An apology, you beanhead.

Oh right! "Sorry!" he breathed. "Sorry. Is it ok? Do you need someone to kiss it and make it better?" What are you talking about? "I mean, not that I would. I mean, I would if you asked me to, but that would be weird, we've only just met.. I don't even know you, I guess we haven't really met. I mean. Hi. I'm Phoebus." He offered his hand gallantly, all of his nervousness suddenly going away. She was just a person. "I feel sort of bad not knowing your name," he said with a smile, retracting his hand slightly before she had a chance to shake it. "Want to see if I can guess?"

Posted by: Susan Radcliffe Dec 3 2007, 10:17 PM

The look of displeasure that has graced her face since she was jabbed by a pin did not last all that long. She hadn’t realized that she was all that terrifying but the way this boy was looking at her; she might have been a chimaera or a pogrebin. She was neither of course, those were dangerous creatures and she was just a small girl, not remotely harmful in the least. But still... an apology wasn’t too much to expect was it? Of course not!

As he stammered out the a response, she nodded her head approvingly half turning away so that she could finish the fitting of her robe. She stopped however because well... she could feel him staring at her. It was rather uncomfortable being stared at for any length of time. Should she scold him for that as well? Blinking quizzically at him she tugged at the sleeve of her robe until he spoke again, breaking the overwhelmingly awkward silence.

Wait... what did he say? Processing just what he had said in all that ramble of a speech she took a step away from him. Kiss it and make it better? She barely new him and besides that was a silly old wives tale and didn’t work. Why, he was probably germ ridden... weren’t all little boys? What if it had been a greater wound... and he’d infected it or something. That would be most dreadful. Shaking her head ‘no’ quite quickly, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as he introduced himself and offered a hand before pulling it away from her.

“Apology accepted,” she said haltingly, eyes narrowing slightly after he suggested guessing her name. However fun that might have sounded to him, she had a fitting to attend to. Still, it would be rude to walk away without introducting herself and if there was one thing Susan Radcliffe was not... it was rude. “And I’d prefer not,” she added, before saying “I’m Susan.” Brushing her hand against the front of her robes briefly, she held it forward in a most graceful manner.

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 4 2007, 03:26 PM

Phoeb's smile faded slightly as the expression on the girl's face went from unamused to less amused. He was just striking out left and right here, wasn't he? Probably the best step to take would be to start backing away now, never turning a blind spot to her, and just keep going backwards until he was out of the shop. Possibly out of the country. It wouldn't be rude as long as he didn't turn his back on her, right? Was running away in the middle of a conversation rude? Was it still running away if you never actually turned tail and bolted?

She shook her head no quickly at his offer to kiss her pinprick injury, and it was just as well. After all, she hadn't said where exactly she'd been pricked on the rear end? That would definitely be impolite. She might have a heart attack. He might too, actually. Chewing his lip, Phoebus burrowed his fingers into the fabric of the robes that were in his arms, not realizing that he'd absently tied the sleeves in a knot. It would really be a laugh when he went to try them on.

His new 'friend' accepted his apology. That was good. She didn't seem to be in the mood for a name game though, which was really too bad. Phoebus bet he would have gotten it eventually. He might have started with the As and then gone from there, which might have been a little counterproductive, but that was A-OK. Until she told him that her name was Susan. "Oh," he said stupidly. He wouldn't have even been close. Still guessing Anna while she was really named Susan.

"Nice to meet you," Phoebus said graciously, rubbing his hand down the thigh of his pants to get any sweat or anything off it. He'd noticed she had done it too, though it was probably out of habit and less because she had sweaty palms. She definitely didn't look like the type to tolerate clammy hands and sweaty palms. Whether they were hers or someone else's. Say, now! "Oh, hey!" Phoebus looked down at his robes that he was supposed to be trying on. "If you're about done with your fitting, could you uh, help me find some okay-priced robes that look okay?"

He tilted back on one foot, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "You seem like you'd be pretty sensible about that stuff, and all."

Posted by: Susan Radcliffe Dec 4 2007, 03:46 PM

Shaking Phoebus’ hand briefly, as the boy who had caused her pricking now had a name, she resisted the urge to wipe her own hand against the front of her robes again. That would be really impolite though and while he looked to be a wholesome boy for the most part, she just... couldn’t be sure about such things. What if he really were germy and had dragonpox or something like that? Wait, dragonpox was a very... visible disease and he didn’t appear to have it, so... maybe she was safe. Certainly were he fatally ill he’d have the sense to stay in bed and cooperate and not shop for robes. Nodding to herself at the thought, quite unsure how it had taken such an odd turn, a corner of her mouth tipped absentmindedly upwards, a hint of a smile gracing her features.

Realizing that she was being addressed by the boy still, (how rude of her to not be paying attention!), she blinked having heard what they boy had asked her but not having processed it yet. Help... with robes? She was sensible about that stuff? Had it been any other person that might have been an insult but well, Susan was very sensible so didn’t find it at all rude. He obviously didn’t equate being sensible with being boring, but with... having excellent taste in school robes? Bah, whatever.

Looking over her shoulder towards the fitting room she’d vacated she noticed that the shop assistant who had been fixing her pleat was now engaged in conversation with a tall-ish blonde woman holding a set of lovely pink dress robes. In any other color they’d look lovely on Susan but pink wasn’t for her. No harm in helping Phoebus then as the shop assistant had become quite surly when Susan mentioned that the hem was a smidge too low.

“Alright,” she said nodding her head at him, her hair falling in front of her face as she walked towards one of the racks of clothing only to be brushed out of her eyes in frustration. “Well... what do you like?” That was a start. “I mean, all school robes pretty much look the same, I’m assuming that’s what you need them for...?” Trailing off she began sliding the hangers on the rack to one side, being careful not to dislodge the pins that were still in her robes. She hoped he didn’t want dress robes, she knew nothing about male dress robes but school robes... that wasn’t hard. Long, black... and well... long. That about covered it.

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 4 2007, 10:36 PM

Well now that the pair had established Phoebus wasn't a disease-ridden mutt (well, mutt maybe. Disease ridden, no! He was quite clean. Personal hygiene was important to this boy and he was proud to say that he brushed his teeth after each meal and before bed and then again in the morning), they could clearly get on with being friends. The boy smiled at Susan, who he had tentatively started calling friend in his head, though that might have been a bit presumptious of him. Was it rude to assume such things? He wondered if there was a book on manners. Er..ettiquette. Probably there was, and Susan had read the whole thing. Or written it herself.

He looked over the girl's shoulder and wrinkled his nose with distaste as he realized his sister had approached the shopkeeper about those gross pink robes. They were practically exploding with lace and frills. He had told her she'd look fat in them, but what he'd really meant was that she'd look like a pastry. And not a cute one. Not that pastries were cute. But she would be an exceptionally non-cute one. Besides she was his sister. That made her pastry-cuteness about a negative one billion from the start and gave her something to work up to.

Had she agreed? Yes, she had. "Thanks," Phoebus said with a slight sigh. At least he didn't have to look around by himself now. He watched Susan push through robes and robes, like an enormous neverending tunnel of them, but.. on racks and not in any tunnel shape what so ever. "What do I like?" he repeated, wondering if that were really the question. "I don't know, really. I don't wear robes because.." Because Muggle clothes were easier for his family to afford? Yeah, that was accurate. Did he really want to admit that to someone who he had just met? She might tell him that being poor wasn't sensible. But he already knew that! Didn't he? Obviously if you had any sense you'd be rich, not poor. Duh.

"I don't think they're all that comfortable, but you need them for school so I may as well just get some that will fit for a couple years so I don't have to buy new ones." Oh flicker, he'd just told her he was poor. Well not really. Maybe she wouldn't catch on. Though he had been terrified of her earlier, he at least knew now that she wasn't going to steal his money out of his pockets. Not that there was much in there. She could probably sell his pocket lint as some kind of pet though and make a real fortune. Uh.. anyway, "They have to be black. And long. As you already know," he said, going over to the windowsill and admiring a set of dark mahogany color robes. They looked really expensive. He opted for a used black one instead, slipping it on over his head. "The sleeves are a little big," he noted, as they came down over his fingertips.

Then a long piece of wood on the windowsill caught his attention. "Hey, hey! This is a wand, isn't it?" The boy grabbed it and tripped over the hem of the robe. The wand in his hand sparked spectacularly and set his sleeves alight. Eyes widening to the size of galleons, he threw the wand to Susan. "Hold this," he said, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking before tearing the robes off and beating them into the floor until the flame went out. Slightly singed and crispy, the boy eyed them, and the wand. "Maybe I better not touch one of those until I get my own," he observed, noting that Susan hadn't set off any firecrackers. She was probably a much better witch than he was a wizard. He was still kind of doubting that he was here to learn magic. It was really just a bad joke. He'd go home soon.

"Let's pretend that didn't happen."

Posted by: Susan Radcliffe Dec 4 2007, 11:27 PM

Content to sort through the racks, Susan paid little attention to what it was Phoebus was actually saying. Didn’t wear robe, well neither did she and she was from a wizarding family but well, her parents allowed her to wear muggle clothing and she preferred it to the long billowing sleeves and long hems that often caused her to trip. Perhaps that’s why she was so particular about how her robes fit her, the tripping and running sleeves through breakfast and such being an issue.

Nodding her head in agreement when he mentioned not wanting to come shopping for new robes for a few years she hoped she might be so lucky. She doubted it though as she’d grown an inch or so this summer alone and was no doubt going to grow a bit more before she was finished. She figured Phoebus didn’t want to shop for robes again because well, he was of the male persuasion and to the best of her knowledge NONE of them liked to shop. Her father abhorred it, made a fuss whenever Susan and her mother went out. Speaking of which, why was he alone in the shop in the first place without a sense of what to do? She was left alone because well, she was a responsible sort, no offense but Phoebus didn’t quite fit that... parameter.

Pulling some robes off of a rack, she turned to find Phoebus slipping a pair of long robes over his head. Clucking her tongue in disapproval, as one didn’t throw robes over their head, she wrinkled her nose at the robes and their long sleeves which he was quick to point out were too long. “Indeed,” she said, “Better try another pair but do be careful when you take those off... don’t want to...”

Cut off mid-sentence as Phoebus grabbed at a wand seemingly left unattended Susan was all a fluster as he picked it up, waved it about, managed to catch his sleeves on fire then toss it at her. Catching it deftly with better reflexes than she thought she had, she held it gingerly as the robes were stripped off and the fire put out.

“...ruin them,” she finished lamely looking around for a shop assistant hoping they wouldn’t get caught for destruction of property.

"Let's pretend that didn't happen.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she nodded her head slightly. “Wands choose the wizard you know...” she said struggling to find something to say and failing marvelously. It wasn’t everyday she came shopping for robes only to have a pair lit on fire before her very eyes.

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 5 2007, 12:33 AM

Alasdair McCandlish's father was going to kill him. That was the pure and simple effect that could be drawn from this entire afternoon's adventures. As if the fact that Alasdair had managed to somehow inherit his mother's faulty magical genes and make them work wasn't enough, he had already lost that magic-making implement. Somewhere between the magical wand store and the book shop and the ingredients sellers and the place where they sold robes and then the animal emporium and...well...somewhere in there, he'd lost his wand. His brand new, perfectly matched to him, beautifully sparking wand. It was gone, he couldn't find it, and when his father found out, Alasdair would be as good as dinner. Perhaps even better, if it turns out that his father digged that cannibalism sort of thing.

Ingesting the dead. A common practice. Ingesting one's own son? Not so common, and definitely not a practice he wanted to try out anytime soon.

Rather winded from his frenzied excursions that had consisted of retracing his steps all over the streets of Diagon Alley, Dair entered the second to last shop on his mental list. The first stop of the day had been at Gringotts where his mother had told him all about how the short funny men would change his pounds into things called galleons, or hubcaps....Hubcaps seemed to make more sense, anyhow, given the size and shape of the money. Then he'd wandered until he found the great white shiny edifice, Ollivander's, and he'd bought that magical instrument that would ensure him a place at the wizarding school his mother had never had the opportunity to attend. The wizarding school that still made his father uneasy, despite the many times Mrs. McCandlish had tried to ease his worries.

After the wand had been purchased, Dair had gone about the place getting perpetually lost in the hustle and bustle of the crowds, getting entangled in large groups of friends and families all shopping for things together, and the multitudes of individuals scurrying about on their own business. The Wizarding world was a colorful one, that Alasdair knew from simply this day of shopping. "Oh fantastic," Alasdair grumbled as he finally reached the doors of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Previously this afternoon Dair had been accosted by a shop assistant, a measurement tape, and forty-five tons of robes to try on be fitted. He was not looking forward to going back in there. But if it meant finding his wand and not becoming supper, well, Dair was willing to be risky.

That didn't mean he wouldn't take precautions, however. Dair opened the door, slipped inside, mentally cursed the bell that announced a new customer in the store, and promptly dropped to all fours. It was in a crawling sort of fashion that Alasdair moved about the store. Partly to avoid the shopkeepers and Madam Malkin herself. Mostly to further inspect the floorboards for any object that held any resemblance to Alasdair's new wand. Which he was pretty sure was brown and not black. And as time ticked by, he got less and less sure that he knew what that new instrument looked like exactly.

It was just Alasdair's luck that he crawled right into a person's legs. Freezing up completely, Alasdair mentally hit his forehead against the floor, a door, anything hard, really, before he craned his head up, fully expecting to see a disapproving shopkeeper with a quizzical brow. Lucky for him that the person was young and female instead of old and female! Surely a young one wouldn't have developed a quizzical brow at such an innocent age. "Oh gobsmacker," he spluttered. "I'm sorry for that, I'm, uh...I'm...Yeah. I'm sorry." What a great first impression to make on random stranger #426 of the day!

Posted by: Phoebus Alexanders Dec 10 2007, 05:44 PM

Feeling a little stupid that he'd expressly warned this girl's warning and, as a result, had gotten himself into a huge mess, Phoebus felt a little bit like curling up in the robes and setting them on fire again. Well not really, that sounded like it would hurt. But, maybe if he could just vanish, and the robes would fall to the floor in a heap.. That would be optimal. Scowling a little as Susan gave him a Look that said "I told you so", Phoebus went to pull the robes off, and then promptly they became stuck on his head.

"Uh oh," he said, just in case Susan needed a warning that something stupid was about to happen, "They're stuck." Nice going. Phoebus managed to see her through a very small opening in the fabric, and that she managed to catch the wand he'd tossed at her. She would have been so politely furious if he had poked her eyeball out. And he would have run away. Properly. "Nice catch," he grunted, ripping the robes off of his head and hoping that he hadn't just heard a seam coming apart. "You should play Quidditch."

As Susan went on talking about wands, Phoebus found himself mildly interested, but not all that much. He placed the singed, torn, battered robes on the rack, acknowledging that because they were on the 'used' rack, they had in fact looked just like that before. "The wand chooses the wizard? That can't be right. Wouldn't you end up with millions of spare wands, then? Not every wand can have a match." Something like that would require intensive studying, much like what his brother Dorian was doing. What exactly DID draw the wand to the wizard? Were there ways to find the precise phoenix that would devote a feather, if the customer came in beforehand? Could wands be custom-made?

It made Pheobus's head spin, so he didn't usually ask Dorian how his work was going. "I suppose that wand chose a really forgetful wizard, then," Phoebus mused as he put his hands in his pockets. Susan held another set of robes as well as the wand now, but he was not at all interested in touching either one of them right now. He would be happy to go gather potions ingredients or textbooks, but he wasn't really keen on purchasing any more clothing just yet. Maybe he'd come back a week before school began or something... but he was most excited for his wand. Surely if the wand chose the wizard, he would be able to discover whether or not Hogwarts had made a terrible mistake.

Phoebus was just turning to see where his sister had got to when he happened to glance down and realize that there was a small boy. Between Susan's legs. He stared at the guy for a moment, mouth slightly open (which was probably rude), before pointing (also rude) and saying, "What are you doing between Susan's legs?" Surely up to no good. Phoebus paused as his stomach made a really ugly noise. "I'm hungry," he announced, switching gears to his new top priority. Food was definitely on the list.

Posted by: Susan Radcliffe Dec 12 2007, 02:41 AM

Merlin’s soggy pants; whatever was she going to do with Phoebus? Still holding the wand in her hand rather gingerly she watched apprehensively as he struggled to pull the robes up and over his head. If he wasn’t careful they’d attract the attention of the shopkeeper and well, she wasn’t the type to lie about what had happened. Getting questioned at this particular moment in time did not seem promising. If a shopkeeper did not accost them and she wasn’t questioned well then... no one would be the wiser now would they? She could live with that. *shifty*

“I’d imagine that wand makers don’t make an abundance of wands for that reason,” Susan said dryly to Phoebus’ remark cut off from finishing her thought when something collided with her legs nearly knocking her off balance. Pity though, she’d really wanted to point out that while this wand may have selected a forgetful wizard, it certainly hadn’t chosen a clumsy one. ~~That’s right Phoebus I’m implying you’re clumsy so ner~~

“What in...” Susan started looking down at the person who’d somehow managed to crawl between her legs. Why her? Embarrassed beyond mortification she moved to step away from said person but well, found it rather difficult to not step on said person. “-Do-you-mind-“ she said succinctly with a severe frown gesturing that the crawling person stand up, sparks flying from the wand that was still in her hand. He obviously wasn’t some creepy person trying to get a peek up her robes, robes were nice and long and good at preventing that but why was her crawling around on the floor? That was most unsensible.

”What are you doing between Susan's legs?"

Turning an even brighter shade of red, were it possible at this point and time Susan scowled at Phoebus. “Oh do shut up,” she said not even realizing that Phoebus, her new sort of friend who was painfully awkward and would probably not arrive at school with robes, had made her speak rather rudely. As if on cue, Phoebus oblivious to her discomfort announced that he was hungry. Did she look like the type that carried around food in her pockets?! Certainly not, crumbs would produce a god-awful mess and well she was wearing robes that were still being fitted.

Where was her mother, or even the witch who had been pinning her robes. Surely someone would save her. Someone? Anyone? Drats.

“Stand up,” she ordered to her assailants, before handing Phoebus the offending wand back, “Stop whining and hold this.” There. She’d turned into a right bossy little thing, but well, something had to be done. They were... just... yes... that. Someone... HELP!

Posted by: Alasdair McCandlish Dec 17 2007, 04:32 AM

Any sort of sensible boy would have immediately backed out from "between Susan's legs" as that fellow so delicately put it. Well. Any sort of REAL boy would have probably tried to peek at what was between Susan's legs...but, well...Alasdair was more polite than that. Or awkward. Or a fake boy, by this sort of reasoning. In any case, Alasdair McCandlish was very much a real boy, he was just not a very smooth one. Quite awkward indeed. And so when he found himself in this particularly awkward position, all he could do was freeze in his tracks, and then stammer apologetically.

It seemed to work fairly well, actually. He didn't get hit with magic from that wand that was sparking in her hand, at least. That was good news. Either she was a very kind, benevolent soul who understood that awkward things like this happened, or she wasn't quite that great of a witch, and therefore not trained in the art of hexing off an eleven year old's tush. Oh, but her frown. That was rather fearsome, wasn't it? Pursed lips and all. Dair was impressed, to be sure. It almost rivaled his Great Aunt Mary's. This girl didn't have a hairy upper lip, though. At least, as far as he could tell. He didn't want to look up for fear of actually seeing something he didn't want to see. Like...you know...frilly white knickers.

And the thought of that caused the most tremendous blush to rise on his cheeks.

"I, uh," he stammered some more after her companion asked the most...well...the most blatant question ever. Luckily, the focus was shifted away from him for a moment as the girl verbally slapped the boy, and Dair took that moment to scramble as quickly as human possible away from the vicinity of her legs, her frilly white knickers, everything that pertained to this girl with the tremendously accomplished frown.

“Stand up,” she commanded, and with wide eyes, Alasdair pulled himself up by using a coat rack that seemed steady enough. "Yes ma'am," he automatically answered, before the blush in his cheek rose even further. Oh gobsmacker, and now he was calling girls his age ma'am. This was the most awkward thing ever. And then she handed her wand to the boy, and Dair's eyes focused on it only for a moment before they returned to the ground. Partially to evade the probing eyes of the girl, and the attentions that might fall on him from the boy, and partially to look for his wand some more. He bet it was underneath one of these racks. It had to be. When it wasn't seen with a quick sweep of the eye, he raised his head slightly, and then ruffled his hair slightly with his right hand.

"I really am sorry. I uh...got misoriented?" He sucked air in through his nose. "I'm Alasdair," he finally splurted, holding his hand out to the girl for her to shake. "And I didn't see your frilly---" he stopped short. "I didn't see your shoes. I swear." He gasped. Dair basically needed a lie down somewhere. Maybe some smelling salts.

The One Hundred Question Character Quiz

2008-01-29T03:36:30Z

THE BASICS
1. What is your full name?
Alasdair Daniel McCandlish
2. Where and when were you born?
Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, UK on 11 January 2004
3. Who are/were your parents?
Jamie McCandlish and Bessie Docherty McCandlish
4. Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?
I have four siblings, three older, one younger. I have three brothers and one sister. My older brothers are similar in temper to my father, though Gilbert is perhaps more mechanically engineered. Trudy, my sister, is fairly feisty, but very mothering, and Calvin, my youngest brother, is somewhat of a pest. Mum says that because he’s younger, it’s his job to annoy me, and that I should just get over it.
5. Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.
I live in Fraserburgh with my family during the winter holidays and during the summer. During the school year, I live at Hogwarts. Fraserburgh is a large enough city, right on the coast, and is filled mainly with fishing companies. You get used the smell of the particular sections of town pretty quickly. Hogwarts is full of students, professors, beasts, ghosts, and textbooks.
6. What is your occupation?
I am a student.
7. Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.
I’m more or less pale, have sandy brown hair, and a sort of light brown eye color. There are a few freckles splattered here and there. I’m ‘tall enough as an eleven year old should be’, or so says my mother. She was never too pleased with how quickly Mackenzie and Gilbert sprouted up in height. I don’t know what I wear. The school uniform? I’m not too picky.
8. To which social class do you belong?
I think you’d probably call us very low middle class. We’re not poor, but we’re not exactly well off either.
9. Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?
I like to pretend that I’m allergic to Calvin. Does that count? (OOC note: Alasdair would be very easily beaten in a fist fight if it ever came to that. He’s a pretty scrawny lad.)
10. Are you right- or left-handed?
I’m left-handed.
11. What does your voice sound like?
It’s strange how the way you sound inside your own head is way different than the way you actually sound? In any case, I’ve got a “Scottish accent” which is pretty normal since I’m from Scotland. I sound different than the people from Wales and Shropshire and London. (OOC note: Dair’s voice before changing is a rather high-pitched one. He hates it lots. After puberty, it will settle into a nice lower-ended tenor.)
12. What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?
Follow me around and record what I say and then you’ll have your answer.
13. What do you have in your pockets?
A blue ballpoint pen, a few pounds in change, my library card, the key to my bike lock
14. Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?
I like to collect and look at maps. I love old sailing maps, yellowed parchments that show artist sketches of the world, and new maps. I think maps that show the progression of cities and where they formed are great, and maps that get so detailed that I can plan the fastest way to get from British Parliament to Buckingham Palace via one way streets if I wanted. I also like being right. But that’s because other people can be dumb. (OOC note: He’s desperately fond of getting answers correct, and correcting people when he knows they’re wrong. Yes, it gets pretty irritating, and if you feel like slaughtering him…well, that’s a normal reaction as well.)

GROWING UP
15. How would you describe your childhood in general?
Loud. I have lots of siblings, and a very loud mother.
16. What is your earliest memory?
Probably the day Calvin was born. I was only two at the time, but it was still shocking to have another, younger kid in the house.
17. How much schooling have you had?
Primary school. I’m only eleven after all!
18. Did you enjoy school?
Very much in general.
19. Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?
Through books and reading them.
20. While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.
Alexander the Great. He was a brilliant military leader, a scholar of Aristotle, came close to ruling much of the discovered world, was both a philosopher and a relatively free thinker, intensely devoted to his friends, and was one of the most exemplary men both of his time, and even after.
21. While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?
Well enough I suppose. There are a lot of siblings, and there’s always some sort of squabble going on, but it’s not like I hated any of them, nor did any of them hate me. And my biggest siblings, Mackenzie and Trudy, they’d always look out for me if I was in trouble. And my parents, well, they’re okay. They’re just parents, right?
22. As a child, ~~what~~ who did you want to be when you grew up?
Plato. No seriously. The man got to follow Socrates around, got away with being a misogynist, and still remains one of the most brilliant minds to put pen to paper.
23. As a child, what were your favorite activities?
Hanging around the fishing ports to watch the shellfish ships come in, pilfering old and wrecked sea maps from the aged captains, climbing Fraserburgh’s lighthouse, reading, being in the libraries, taking picnics his mother packed with his siblings to the beach to eat.
24. As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?
I suppose I was pretty much the same then as I was now. I don’t know how I changed. I’m more independent now, though, I suppose. I’d better be – Calvin needs all the attention nowadays. He’s useless.
25. As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?
Popularity was never really all that important to me. I have my books, and my friends that I could be with, and they were enough.
26. When and with whom was your first kiss?
I couldn’t tell you.
27. Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?
Just. Oh Merlin. Go away.
28. If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.
I’m a wizard. This shouldn’t be a shock given that I attend Hogwarts. I suppose I did small things as a child that might have hinted towards my magic ability, but the one thing that really cemented it was when I got my letter for Hogwarts, and first swishes with my wand at Ollivander’s.

PAST INFLUENCES
29. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

30. Who has had the most influence on you?
Homer. Plato. Adam Smith. Alexander the Great. Malthus. Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
31. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
I suppose it is simply that I learned to read. It wasn't the most difficult thing I've ever had to do, but the benefits of being literate are innumerable.
32. What is your greatest regret?

33. What is the most evil thing you have ever done?
To be honest, if it was malevolent, it served a purpose. If it served a purpose, how "evil" could it really be?
34. Do you have a criminal record of any kind?
Don't be daft, of course not.
35. When was the time you were the most frightened?
36. What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?
37. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?
38. What is your best memory?
39. What is your worst memory?

BELIEFS AND OPINIONS
40. Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?
41. What is your greatest fear?
42. What are your religious views?
43. What are your political views?
44. What are your views on sex?
45. Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?
46. In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?
47. Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?
48. What do you believe makes a successful life?
49. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?
50. Do you have any biases or prejudices?
51. Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?
52. Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS
53. In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?
54. Who is the most important person in your life, and why?
55. Who is the person you respect the most, and why?
56. Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.
57. Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.
58. Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.
59. What do you look for in a potential lover?
60. How close are you to your family?
61. Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?
62. Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?
63. Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?
64. If you died or went missing, who would miss you?
65. Who is the person you despise the most, and why?
66. Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?
67. Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?
68. Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?
69. Do you care what others think of you?

LIKES AND DISLIKES
70. What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?
71. What is your most treasured possession?
72. What is your favorite color?
73. What is your favorite food?
74. What, if anything, do you like to read?
75. What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?
76. Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?
77. How do you spend a typical Saturday night?
78. What makes you laugh?
79. What, if anything, shocks or offends you?
80. What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?
81. How do you deal with stress?
82. Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?
83. What are your pet peeves?

SELF IMAGE, ETC.
84. Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?
85. What is your greatest strength as a person?
86. What is your greatest weakness?
87. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
88. Are you generally introverted or extroverted?
89. Are you generally organized or messy?
90. Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.
91. Do you like yourself?
92. What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons...)
93. What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?
94. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
95. If you could choose, how would you want to die?
96. If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.
97. What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?
98. What three words best describe your personality?
99. What three words would others probably use to describe you?
100. If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice...)

The Sorting Blurb

2008-01-29T03:30:58Z

Ooh, a tricky one you are. Right complicated! Well I love a good challenge, so let’s see what we have here… Salazar would love to have you, with your self-minded, calculative nature and your gifted wit. But Rowena would not be so easily denied, claiming your exceedingly contemplative mind to be one of a slumbering genius. Oh decisions, decisions. Don’t mind either way, do you? Well I doubt you’ll find any typically dim friends in… RAVENCLAW!

The Sorting Post

2008-01-26T01:33:32Z

The Sorting Ceremony

Alasdair was awfully disappointed with the train ride, to be quite honest. It had been long and drawn out, and Alasdair was fairly sure that he had seen enough pasture land to quite last him the rest of his years upon this mortal coil. It was also a conundrum when one considered that he had been forced to go all the way to London, England just...to ride a train back to Scotland. What a waste of time and energy. In any case, however, the boy was getting over it. He was definitely one to hold a grudge against a person...but against a train? Well that was also a waste of time and energy. Alasdair Daniel liked to think that he had better things to do with his life.

The train stopped, the carriages carried metric tons of loud children, then boats did the rest, and then holy mother of Merlin, there was Hogwarts Castle.

And for the first time today, Alasdair was impressed. This castle was monstrous. Wayyyyy bigger than Kinnaird Head Castle way back home in Fraserburgh. Aberdeenshire for the win, but still. Hogwarts was absolutely humongous. He supposed it had to be. If the other grades had just as many students as he had seen crossing the lake with him simultaneously, the castle would need to be the size of the Loch Ness just to house everybody, nevertheless school them as well.

Eyeing his surroundings (as newfoundfriend!Phoebus made a complete arse of himself), Alasdair followed the path that led up to the castle. He was finally pushed through the massive doors by the mob, and then the sorting began. Dair watched as Leslie was sorted, Ivy and Alcyone, Phoebus...Why was it that all his 'friends' seemed to have surnames that began with A's and B's? Well, he supposed they were partially his friends. Acquaintances was more like it. With a sigh, Dair sagged against a wall, pulling his wand out of his pocket, and settled for inspecting every facet of the magical implement for the entire duration of his wait, until finally, oh, finally the L section of the alphabet was reached, and then the M, and then all of a sudden.

"McCandlish, Alasdair."

Pushing his way through the crowd, Alasdair finally emerged from the group of soon-to-be-first years. Without saying a word to the woman, or to...the singing hat, it was placed on his head. Time to find out where his home for the next seven years would be.

dairtoderive @ 2007-12-24T14:57:00

2007-12-24T23:07:54Z

The Basics:
Name: Alasdair Daniel McCandlish
House: TBA
Birthday: 11 January 2004
Hometown: Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, UK
Pureblood/half blood/muggleborn: Halfblood. (Muggle dad, Mostly pure-ish but squib mum, make Guin Poleon do the math.)
Five words that best describe your character: Fastidious, philosophical, calming, creative, intolerant

Appearance:
Hair Color: Dirty blonde
Hair Style: To his ears and two inches or so from his eyes, sometimes shaggy
Eye color: Brown
Height: About this much tall. *gestures*
Other distinguishing details:

Family:
Father's name: Jamieson (Jamie) Dougal McCandlish
Brief description: Jamie is a muggle who supports his family through the fishing industry. He is a manager at a “turnover” company. Basically, the company takes care of the fresh fish, fillets it, freezes it, and then sends it on. A really glamorous job, lemme tell ya. In general, he is a wee bit suspicious of the magic that his wife’s family has, and isn’t sure how Alasdair will turn out now that he’s being shipped off to a school where he learns no “life skills”, only how to wave an expensive stick around.

Mother's name: Elisabeth (Bessie) Fiona Docherty McCandlish
Brief description: Mostly-pureish, but a squib. Married a muggle to get out of the magical world. Spends her time now raising her posse of children Bessie’s a wee bit upset that she was able to spawn a magical child, and yet had to grow up with the stigma of being magic-less and pureblood herself. Nonetheless, she’ll hopefully get over herself.

Other key family members:

Mackenzie Stuart – male, 19, non-magical, graduated from secondary school and began to work in the fishing industry. Still lives at home.
Trudy Eileen – female, 18, non-magical, working as a shop girl. Also still lives at home.
Gilbert Reid – male, 14, non-magical, still in school.
Alasdair Daniel – That’s me!
Calvin Peyton – male, 9, might have magic, still attends primary school.

*Ages of siblings as of Alasdair's 11th birthday.

Grandfather and Grandmother Docherty - Dair's only magical relatives. He likes using their Floo now that he's been accepted into Hogwarts.

At Hogwarts:
Your best subject: TBE
Your worst subject: TBE
Extracurricular activities: Dueling
Favorite place at Hogwarts: The Great Hall
Least favorite place at Hogwarts: The Infirmary
Do any of the staff members scare you? TBE
Do any inspire you? TBE

Miscellaneous:
Interests/hobbies: Dair enjoys collecting maps, reading, dueling, eating fried and crunchy doughnuts
What you might like to do after Hogwarts: TBE
Someone you look up to: TBE

The Sorting Form

2007-12-24T22:32:53Z

Here you will find the entirety of Alasdair's sorting form, saved for posterity's sake. Or, have fun, and re-sort Alasdair into a new house if you like!

Log-in name: Alasdair McCandlish

Bloodtype (half, pure, Muggle-born): Halfblood

Which 5 descriptive words best describe your character's personality? Fastidious, philosophical, calming, creative, intolerant

SHORT ANSWERS;
1. If your character could know any spell or potion instantly, which one would you pick? Please explain why.
Evanesco. Alasdair is not exceedingly fond of messes, clutter, extraneous -anything-, really. Having a spell that can successfully get rid of all that stuff would be a godsend for the boy. Not to mention that it'd probably do pretty well when it came to getting crumbs and other small particles of ick that his siblings leave in his bed, his dresser drawers, his shoes, his everything.

2. If your character could be an animagus, what kind of animal would he or she turn into? Please explain why. (Keep in mind that people cannot change into magical animals like unicorns and phoenixes)
As Alasdair has grown up, he's often found himself in the sidelines of activity. He might be a plotter of said activity if he found a good reason to be, but he is a wallflower. A chameleon. An animagus form that he would assume would definitely reflect that; the ability to fit in anywhere, and fairly unobtrusively at that. Not especially vicious, he's often just "there", waiting, watching, and absorbing information.

3. What are some qualities your character looks for in a friend? Please explain why.
As long as they're not too dumb, they don't burn his books, break his things, or eat his food, Dair isn't too discerning. He wouldn't be able to point out the things that make his really close friends close, though.

4. What would your character stand up and fight for? Please explain why.
Standing up might be too much for Alasdair's temperament. He's not of the violent sort, and Dair is a bit removed from his classmates' society at times. He does very much like to be right, though. If he thought people were spreading false knowledge, he'd definitely make elaborate plots to take them down. Just like he loves to correct his teachers if he can, and how he loves to show people up in the classroom. It's not that he wishes other people were smarter...Oh no, he just wants to be right. He wants to be the revered one, he wants to receive recognition for his accomplishments.

5. If your character had a choice, would he or she rather be kind or right? Please explain why.
As explained above, Dair doesn't usually care about the general populous at large and if they are happy or feel like they're being fairly treated. He'd like to be right. If that ends up benefiting others, that's great. If it ends up hurting, that's okay too. Unless you're his good friend, he'd rather be right than kind to you.

6. What is your character's most important personality trait? Please explain why.
~~His rogue handsomeness and devilish smirk.~~ But in all seriousness, it's his sarcastic nature. Alasdair can have a pretty venomous tongue. It's when you see a break in that acrimony that you find out who he truly cares for. Granted, he's still a bit scathing, but in a loving and fond sort of way. If there's malicious intent behind it, well, that person can pretty automatically know exactly where he stands with Alasdair.

7. If your character were to face a Boggart, which form would the Boggart take? Please explain why.
For one reason or another, Alasdair has always had a very large affinity for water. He loves the rain, the snow, the ice that you slip on and hurt your bum. It only makes sense that the things that fear him the most is the opposite of water: fire. Dair's boggart would likely take the shape of a phoenix during reincarnation. The idea of spontaneously bursting into flames is scary as heck to the kid, not to mention the fact that the flames could then engulf YOU, and YOU'D be on fire. It's just a really bad idea in general.

8. Who takes your character to Platform 9 & 3/4 for the first time and how do you feel when you say goodbye? Please explain why.
Given the family situation (Dad is still wondering what he did wrong in a past life to spurn his wife's magical genes in his son, Mum still being bitter about the whole "no magic" thing, Brothers and Sister happily non-magical with "real lives" and their animals not able to take Dair all the way to London...well...) It's Great Aunt Mary, the one with the hairy upper lip. She's the closest relative who's a witch. (And Dair means that in the nicest way possible.)

Dair is mostly okay with leaving. At least at school he won't be competing with eleventy-hundred other people for the attention of ~~parents~~ professors, right? Ahem. He's brought a good book to read on the train if he can't find somebody moderately tolerable to spend the ride with. He's also desperately excited to find out where he'll be sorted.

ROLEPLAYS:
1. Roleplay your character breaking a Hogwarts rule. Be sure to explain in your roleplay their reasons for doing it.
Alasdair knew that magic was forbidden in the hallways, and all that lameness, but really. Who was going to notice a little Toenail Growing Hex on the unintelligent boy who had stolen Dair's notes that one time in Potions class? The kid couldn't see Dair, there were no professors, prefects, or ghosts around, and...well...The kid was asking for it! He had taken his notes, drawn crude things all around the edges regarding Alasdair, his mother, and exactly why Alasdair was so "smart" when his "father" was so "dumb". Childish, yes. But it was mainly the fact that Alasdair hated people, and was exceedingly inept when it came to turning this other cheek. And this guy was one of those people that made Dair's blood boil.

So while the kid went lumbering down the hall, Alasdair slipped behind a suit of armor, pulled his wand out of his pocket, and with pursed lips, whispered the incantation for the hex. He slipped away into the darkness of the hallway with a definite smirk on his face.

Revenge was oh so sweet.

2. Your character enters your house common room and finds a large group of older students laughing loudly. When you get closer to hear what's going on, you realize they're reading from your roommate's private diary. Your roommate is not in the room. Roleplay your character's reaction and explain the reasons behind it.
"Superfluous," Alasdair murmured, and the portrait door to his common room swung open. Tripping on the raised ledge, mainly because the boy's book bag was entirely too heavy for his weak frame, the blonde fell into the lounge area of his house, and trudged his weary feet across the well worn carpet. It wasn't until the loud and pronounced words of, in fact, the journal that belonged to Dair's roommate floated across the room that the kid stopped in his tracks.

That Gryffindor HAD been given detention after Herbology that day? How interesting.

Genuinely intrigued, and definitely recognizing the penmanship style of the words, (Alasdair had corrected many an essay for this roommate), Dair sat down to listen. Knowledge was power, and there was information in this diary that might come in handy some day. Now if only the older students who were snickering at the words in the book would die down...yes, that would be lovely. Dair would like to be able to hear the innermost thoughts of his roommate please.

3. It's your character's third year at Hogwarts and it's the first Hogsmeade weekend. Unfortunately, you forgot to have your parents sign the permission sheet. You've sent it home by owl post so they can sign it for the next weekend, but you still aren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade today. RP how your character reacts to this situation and how he or she spends the afternoon.
The idea that Alasdair had forgotten to get the permission slip signed and turned in was quite preposterous. He'd definitely, most certainly, 110%edly, gotten that slip signed by his mother while she was busy cooking dinner (there was pasta sauce splattered on the corner to prove it) and then Alasdair had made sure that the slip was tucked into his truck, and then placed in his desk upon arrival to Hogwarts. Heck, he'd even kept his best friend's permission slip with it because he was "the responsible one".

Which actually brought up a sickening thought, because his friend's permission slip...well...that hadn't been signed.

And oh lord. Fred had taken Dair's permission slip by accident, hadn't he? And the guy was long gone to Hogsmeade, no doubt. It was a reasonable conjecture to make, after all. His mother's signature? Relatively illegible. And it's not like Alasdair had the forethought to write his name on the slip, or anything. No, it just had a signature. And now he was stuck at Hogwarts while Fred was off in Hogsmeade on one of the brightest fall days that the castle had seen.

Cue big sigh. It was time to set up mayhem for Fred, and to also owl Mother for another signed slip. This time? With Dair's name on it extremely clearly printed.