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It was a crisp Sunday morning, just before 10 o'clock, and he stood waiting patiently on the platform.

The train was usually very prompt, though never early - but Dumbledore wanted an opportunity to stretch and take a stroll out of the grounds and into Hogsmeade. He had considered venturing into some of the shops to acquire the odd trinket that caught his fancy, but the renowed Dumbledore does not do such things - whimsy is reserved for classroom lectures, not out-of-castle deeds.

And so it was he contented himself with a particularly fine whistled rendition of the melody from that muggle song 'Here Comes The Sun'. He'd heard it while out on some official business relating to an incident at the start of term, and it had somehow caught in his mind - he considered that he should have need of a positive-themed melody sooner rather than later.

Dumbledore took a step back as the train arrived in the station, not wanting to be consumed in the steam and smoke from the engine. Of course he could bat it away from him with little more than a gesture but it occurred to him that stepping back would be a simpler use of energy, and appear slightly more deferential.

A guard's whistle blew, shrill and piercing, and a few doors up and down the train slammed open as people both boarded and disembarked - and amongst them Dumbledore saw a rather vivacious looking woman with fiery red hair, followed by two house elves, both dwarfed by a trolley carrying a substantial stack of trunks.

There was no mistaking Ms. Sangréal on the platform, not with the house elves in tow. As she disembarked the train, Dumbledore took stock of the woman - he remembered her as a student, but time was not kind to all - he hoped the intervening years had been kind to Nerva, though he knew that times had been hard on many, and he could only speculate at the confidence of a woman who wore her wand as a hairpin. Convenient, no doubt, and oddly disarming.

He approached her politely and offered his hand. "Good morning! I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Without wishing to convey any sense of covetousness, he looked at the trunks, and turned back to Nerva. "In your letter you mentioned you had a collection you wished to donate, but I must confess I did not expect such generosity from your good self to our humble institution - we are honoured by your gift to us. It almost seems that I should bring another two house elves to assist the move?"

Without giving Nerva time to react, Dumbledore clapped his hands twice, and two house elves appeared with a large cracking noise. "May I present our two newest house elves, Poppy and Tink. They only recently joined us and would be most amenable to helping your elves with the books - even though house elves can Apparate into Hogwarts, the journey is much easier for them if they work inside the grounds. That leaves the question of us - should you prefer to walk, take a Portkey, or take my arm as I Apparate us through the wards into the castle grounds?"

He paused. "Personally, I think it is a fine day for a stroll - the distance is not great and the weather is unexpectedly delightful. And you really must tell me what you've been up to."
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The Year Book / Little Black Book | Nerva Sangréal
Last post by Nerva Sangréal - Today at 06:49:37 pm
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News / Later in Autumn 1969/1970
Last post by Arantor - Today at 06:26:15 pm
Hey everyone,

It's now November/December 1969, with current events updated in the Year Book.

Arithmancy is now open for students, and some new elements of the site plot are now in progress.

-- Arantor
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The Year Book / Re: Site Plot
Last post by Arantor - Today at 06:22:42 pm
Update, 18th May 2021


Global Changes: It is now November/December 1969. Playtime will advance in June.


What's going on for students:

Term is in full swing, Arithmancy class is open - Arcana Obscura I is open; students of all years are encouraged to attend as Professor Prendergast explains a few fundamental concepts of magic, appropriate for all years.

There will be a Christmas feast in the Great Hall in December.


What's going on for adults:

The Squib marches are still ongoing. It seems the unrest is showing no signs of slowing.

There is a case of a Muggleborn going missing in mysterious circumstances - friends and family were investigating and it has been brought to the attention of the Ministry. It is not yet clear if it is in any way related to the attacks on the Finlay family at the start of term.
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Slytherin Common Room / Re: Snake Royalty [Kian]
Last post by Kian Thorne - Today at 04:46:31 pm
      Over the years Kian had grown to love the Slytherin common room. His first year at Hogwarts he had spent most of his time in here as it was the place he felt most at home. The atmosphere had so closely resembled his own childhood home, a lingering musty smell and leather chairs, one always pushed just-so into position under an ornately carved mahogany table, snakes stained a dark emerald on each of the four legs. The space had over time become a sanctuary for the young boy. A place where he could hide away from any expectations the outside world battered him with. Though the fact his parents had attended the very same Hogwarts house still lingered as a reminder that even there he was not safe from feeling as if there was some watchful eye being kept on him at all times.  A small breath escaped the boy's lips as he adjusted the leather strap across his chest, his bag filled with books resting against his lower back and heavier than usual, Ancient Runes had really picked up this term and he was determined not to fall behind.

Stepping past the threshold of the door to the common room, immediately Kian felt a small wave of relief wash over him. At least he could sit and have a quiet moment before opening the large tome he had borrowed from the library. Then there was the matter of the letter he had received from home burning a hole in his brain after having tried to ignore it all day. Hitting the top of the steps a small voice split the air and grabbed the boy's attention. "Evening, Ophi." Kian tipped his chin slightly in greeting and took up her offer of sitting next to her. They had known each other for some time, Pureblood families always wanting their children to interact with other families to keep any status and ties closely linked... not to mention to keep tabs on one another, something Kian's father often noted. The Yaxley family however was a different kind of-well beast, altogether. As Kian grew and interacted with the family he could see why others would be intimidated but having gotten closer to Ophelia at Hogwarts, he enjoyed seeing more of the inner workings of her mind. There was more there...

Swinging his bag from around her head and setting it gently on the floor at his feet, Kian occupied the seat next to Ophelia. Stretching his arms out on the back of the couch, green eyes lowered to the book then back to her features. A sly grin was spread across the girl's lips, making the corners of his own mouth turn upwards. She looked up to something. "Skipped dinner, some lengthy Runes assignment and of course the standard check-in from home." Another sigh of exhausted left the boy as he rested his head back against the cushion, leather moaning as he slid forward on the couch to stretch his legs out. "Are you being a good girl and going over your studies?" He teased, turning his head to one side to peer at her from the corner of his eye.

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London / Thursday Trouble | Garret W. Rynne
Last post by E.Guerin - Today at 02:01:26 pm
Hag's head. A strange but quiet pub in Knockturn alley that was perfect for those that needed a drink in peace.

Guerin was one of those people. It was only yesterday that she got suspended from active duty and was now a pencil pusher at the Ministry. All because of one little, itsy bitsy altercation. Guerin did not regret punching the living daylights out of the wizard but she did regret doing it in a courtroom.

To help with her new position in life, she had spent the entire day drinking and eating typical bar food. As she sat at the bar, she rested her head in her hand and let out a sigh while flexing and bending her other hand. Bruises had already formed on her knuckles, making her hand a bit stiff. But not stiff enough to prevent her from lifting a glass to her lips. Normally she'd wore her robe and use her hood to keep her identity a secret but today, she'd hung her robe over the barstool and didn't really bother.

Now why was she at a place that was bound to have dubious folk that would most definetly recognize her? Well, Guerin wasn't the smartest witch in the world but she was one of the most ballsy ones. She had been coming here on and off during her time as a Hitwitch. Most folk would just leave her alone but her quiet night was about to end.

A suspicious group of 4 entered the pub, all laughing and roaring until one of them saw Guerin sitting at the bar. His face turned sour, patting one of his friends and pointed at her. They all looked at the brown haired woman and nodded annoyed before making their way over to her. They recognized the wand holster on her wrist with a lightning bolt on it." Well well, what do we have here, guys?" one said loudly. Guerin didn't think he meant her but just to be sure she looked up and saw their reflection in a mirror behind the bar. "ah great, another idiot to deal with" she thought.

Since she fought against dragon dealers and picked fights with any one that managed to piss her off, her list of enemies was getting a bit long. To remember every face and name was just too bothersome for her.But for fun, let's call him Bob. Now Bob looked like the typical village bully that thinks he and his buddies are the toughest people in town , despite his resemblance to a pot belly pig. She tried racking her brain but she didn't recognize the dude and his little possy.

As the group began to surround her, people moved out of the way. Dear Bob leaned against the bar next to her ."Word says you're no longer working at them reserves. Lucky for us ,since we still have a score to settle with you for what you did to our camp"

Camp? She hadn't seen a camp in- Ah! she vaguely remembered setting a dragon dealers camp on fire a few months back in an attempt to catch some dealers. Sadly some managed to escape and stupidly decided to confront her now. She let out a sigh and cracked her neck as she stood up to face him - well to look down at him since she towered over him being 6'2. He laughed a bit awkwardly when he realized that maybe he was biting more off than he can chew. Normally Guerin be up for it but with a legbrace around her busted leg and The Ministry watching her, she wasn't feeling it.

"Not today." Those that knew Guerin moved out of the way from the bar, but Bob was determined to settle the score. As he let out another laugh, one of his mates that stood behind her got ready to throw a punch.
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The Year Book / Talia E. Bryce | Journal
Last post by Talia Bryce - Today at 03:11:09 am
Talia Elizabeth Bryce
Inner workings of -
Mad scribblings of -
Hopes, Fears, Dreams
≿━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
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The Year Book / Kian Thorne | Journal
Last post by Kian Thorne - Today at 03:01:11 am

Breathe in. Breathe out.
A worn black leather journal dotted with ink stains
The initials K.T. embossed on the front in gold script
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The Year Book / Garrett W. Rynne | Journal
Last post by Garrett Rynne - Today at 02:47:16 am

There it rested against the oak table
Aside a crystal vessel, smudged black label
Tiny brass pot, spilling words not forgot. 
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Arithmancy Classroom / LessonArcana Obscura I
Last post by Harold Prendergast - May 17, 2021, 08:57:04 pm
First lesson. Harold was rather nervous, never having been a teacher before, never really having much of anything to do with children before - outside of bumping into Grace, he supposed. Hopefully they weren't all as forthright as Grace. He might be in trouble if they were - but he supposed that at the very least his fellow Ravenclaws might not be quite so enthused.

He stood before the chalkboard as students filed in and found themselves sitting in the pods of seating in the room, and Harold was not surprised to find a range of ages of student filling in - the perfectly turned out first years, only really noticeable by being perfectly turned out and not knowing what to expect, and the increasingly more ragged as the students were more familiar with the school and its norms.

"Good morning," Harold beamed to the room, before realising that it was in fact just after lunch, and quickly corrected himself, "Sorry, good afternoon! Time flies when you're having..." His voice trailed off mildly awkwardly.

"Well, I am Professor Prendergast and I am teaching Arithmancy this year. Professor Dumbledore asked if we could broaden the class for the first lesson or so - Arithmancy is rather usually an optional subject for third-year and up - but Dumbledore insisted I at least introduce myself to everyone, and introduce something he wishes everyone to have at least some knowledge of - the topic of today's lesson: Arcana Obscura."

He paused, letting the name hang in the air, mostly to see if anyone had picked it up. What he was about to explain wasn't exactly in the textbooks.

"How does magic work? What makes it work?"

He looked around the room to see if anyone had an answer but he couldn't see any hands up or anyone bursting at the seams to answer.

"Well, rather, there are some things we haven't quite figured out yet. But what we do know, I'm about to explain."

He hoped the collective energy hadn't just flown out of the room.

"So, how does magic work? The answer lies in a physical element called arcanium. It's a particle in the air, in the ground, well, everywhere. Wizards' bodies are naturally attuned to arcanium, and when we perform magic, we're manipulating the arcanium."

He frowned, trying to think of a suitable metaphor. "It's rather like when you're at the swimming baths, and you jump in the water - you move through the air, according to gravity, you land in the water, the water moves around you and ripples outwards. When you study magic at its physical level, it rather looks like jumping into a pool, if the pool were sideways and you were jumping forwards with your wand."

It was not a good metaphor, he thought after the fact.

"Contrary to what people might teach you, magic is no more about waving a wand and saying words than it is doing cartwheels in the castle grounds. With your wand, you make a movement, you say the words - and between your arm, your thoughts and your wand, the arcanium reacts. If you practice an awful lot, you won't need to say the words, or use your wand because you'll be able to do it without them. Rather: they'll make it easier for you to do while you're at school and if you want to practice when you get older, that's something we can do."

He thought a demonstration might be in order. Harold closed his eyes, pointed at one of pieces of parchment on his desk and lifted his hand, mentally encouraging the parchment to follow.

There was an awful lot of confusion in the room, wondering just what this old-fashioned looking chap in tweed was about to do next, but sure enough, the parchment began to rise and unfurl in mid air, spin around slowly before returning to the desk. Harold wasn't sure whether he wanted applause or not, or whether the apparent stunned silence was more appealing.

"You see? Non-verbal, wandless magic. Not a particularly wonderful demonstration, I'm afraid, alas I did not have enough time to practice it quite enough over the summer. But that's the first lesson: magic isn't just about wands and words, it's just as much about what you want the magic to do and how strongly you want it to do it."

"And the secret behind it? Knowing that magic is a force you can observe, measure and thus manipulate." He gestured to the board. "Observe, measure, manipulate - the real mastery of magic." He tried not to sound triumphant with his mantra; he'd been quite pleased how he managed to encapsulate it in what seemed a memorable way.

"And in this class, that's rather what we'll be looking at - how to observe the practical effects of magic, how to measure them, and, well, what you can do once you understand those things. There will, unfortunately, be some of that dreaded mathematics - we will do some of that long division that muggles go on about."

He paused to let that go in, but it didn't seem to go in with much of a reaction from what he could tell.

"Now, before I make sure everyone has a textbook to at least share, does anyone have any questions?" He rather hoped he hadn't just befuddled everyone in the class into a soporific stupor with being a Boring Bobby.
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