2027-02-12: Detention With Pratt

Participants:

Elizabeth_icon.jpg Rudolphus_icon.jpg

Scene Title Detention With Pratt
Synopsis Elizabeth serves her detention with Professor Pratt.
Location History of Magic Classroom, Hogwarts
Date February 12, 2027
Watch For Rivers
Logger Elizabeth

History of Magic Classroom - Hogwarts

The musty scent of old parchment and dust which seems to originate from the many bookcases lies thick over the classroom. Wood paneling hides the stone walls and the floor, and were it not for the neat, parallel rows of dark, wooden desks and benches, the chamber would look like an old English library, complete with a marble fireplace set within the eastern wall. An immense globe at the front of the room which is crated of wood and metal stands nearly six feet tall. The land masses on the globe are rendered in painstaking detail and the colors depicting topography gradually change to match the current actual topography of the planet. Even the oceans depicted on the globe have barely perceptible wave and tides.
Adorned by dust and the occasional cobweb, the bookshelves line the walls and overflow with books. Opposite the entrance to the classroom, the Professor's heavy desk faces the front of the class, backed by a long, broad blackboard. Several long, wide windows are set in between the bookcases, allowing a glimpse of the castle's grounds. A slight chill is in the air, the last remnants of Winter, but Spring showers fall lightly and bring life back to the sleeping flora.


Elizabeth blinks once as her earlobe is suddenly grabbed, pain coursing as she pulls/leads her through the doorway, into the hall, and down several flights of stairs. She makes a face, crossed between the pain and the indignity of being dragged like a small unruly child. The Ravenclaw only clutches the thick book closer to her, keeping herself from saying anything, let alone make any uncomfortable sounds.

So Rudolphus leads the hapless girl through the stairways and corridors of Hogwarts, past snickering and mocking children, until they finally arrive at his empty classroom. Once in the doorway, he releases the earlobe and walks toward his desk. Speaking as he moves, Rudolphus says, "As you can see, the room is desperately in need of suitable dusting and cleaning. You shall write three-hundred and eighty-six lines on my blackboard, 'Physical violence is for Muggles; I shall not strike another.' Assume your normal desk for writing." Walking up to the imposing oak desk at the head of the room, the wizard points his wand at the enormous leather-padded armchair and it moves out for him to sit down. Producing the book from his pocket, and a scroll and quill from the desk, the teacher begins to settle himself to some quiet reading and writing.

As the door closes behind him and he lets go of her ear, Elizabeth reaches up and lightly rubs at her ear for a moment, giving the teacher a look before shifting her eyes around at the classroom around her. With a slow exhale, she approaches the closet and opens it up, revealing a broom and a feather duster. Pulling out her wand, she flicks it and utters, "Scourgify." willing the cleaning instruments life as they move and start to clean the room on their own. With that started, Liz turns slightly to glance over her shoulder at the closest chalkboard, glancing to the pieces of chalk as she moves and swishes the tip of her wand towards them. "Locomotor chalk." she says clearly. Several pieces of chalk move upwards at once, moving in harmony in Elizabeth's familiar handwriting. With a slow exhale, Elizabeth glances down to the book in her arms with a passive glance. Turning, she takes the steps upwards and turns into the aisle where her chair is, lowering herself into the seat and setting the book on the tabletop. Pulling out several fresh pieces of blank parchment, a quill, and an inkpot, she sets them to the side for now as she opens up the thick book, searching for Lord Magnalimus of Magnesia.

For his part, Rudolphus has uncorked one of his honey brandy decanters and is happily enjoying a hearty class of the sweet liquor. The wizard's eyes peer intently at the pages of his tome as he reads. Occasionally, odd names are repeated in a light murmur: "Gildrax the Terrible… Scourge … Misleading Charm … Wessex."

Her fingertips curl under the cover as Elizabeth brushes it to the side, releasing a slow breath as her pale eyes narrow behind her circular, wire-rimmed glasses. After the index page, her gaze skims over each page thoroughly and quickly, absorbing everything that is offered to her, page by page and chapter by chapter. A good hour into this routine Elizabeth scans over the last page of the last chapter of the thick book. With an exhaled breath, she lifts a hand to push up her glasses slightly, rubbing at her eyes briefly before pulling her hand away again. Rolling her neck from side to side, she loosens her shoulders before leaning forward again and closing the book, setting it to the side. Wordlessly she reaches for the ink well and uncorks it, her slender fingers wrapping around the shaft of the quill. Dipping it into the ink, she pauses thoughtfully, considering how to start the project before putting her quill to the blank face of the parchment.

Only occasionally does Rudolphus look up from his work. He has by now procured a wooden pipe from somewhere, and is happily puffing away on vanilla-scented tobacco leafs. Wispy rings of smoke circle above the Professor, gradually filling the space about him, as he contentedly pursues his work. The glass is, of course, refilled when emptied. "Should you require them," he finally intones, after some considerable time has passed, "I have several texts which represent compellingly cogent arguments against Lord Magnalimus' thesis, as well as certain works which underscore his short-comings." Pensively looking at Elizabeth, the professor idly awaits a reply.

Though she hears him, Elizabeth doesn't pause as she continues writing her neat, even cursive handwriting across the first page, her eyes narrowing in thought, never giving the thick book beside her even a glance. Releasing a slow breath, she presses her lips together slightly before pulling back the tip of her quill at the bottom of the page. Setting it aside to dry, she dips the tip of her quill into the inkwell again, her thoughts still focused on the topic assigned to her as she starts at the top of the second page. As time passes, the chalk lowers and sets into the groove once more, resting as the chalkboard is filled with the number of sentences, the broom and feather duster still moving on their own.

Rudolphus shrugs. He leans back in his chair, content with the brandy and pipe-tobacco. After some long moments, the wizard actually falls asleep! Or at least that is what the dull snoring sound would suggest, as well as the faint whistling noise as air brushes against his moustache.

Elizabeth glances up at the sound of the snoring, her gaze narrowing in distaste at him as she looks back down at her work, shaking her dark head. She goes back to ignoring him, silent as her words move across the parchment, now the only movement within the classroom. An hour or so passes before Liz finishes the last page of her assigned twenty passes, arching a dark brow at it for a moment before exhaling a deeper breath. Sitting back slightly, she sets down her quill and looks over her open palm of her hand. Though there were consequences to what she did, the girl doesn't seem very repentant of her actions. Her slender fingers curl idly before she pushes out her seat and stands to her feet. Gathering her dried papers, her work on top of the thick book as she takes her armload and walks towards the front of the classroom. Her legs ache slightly from not having moved for a while. She sets down the book and the essay, quirking a brow as she glances up at the teacher.

Rudolphus is of course wide awake. Whatever was the sound which appeared to be snoring is not really known, but is a mystery which must for the present remain mysterious. The wizard looks from his book to the approaching teenage girl, and thinly smiles at her as she approaches. In his cold, polished accent, the professor says, "You have finished, have you? Very well. Place it upon my desk." Rising to his feet, Rudolphus pushes the heavy armchair backwards and it scrapes the stone floor to produce an annoying, ear-splitting sound. Ouch! "Now let us inspect your cleaning, eh, what?"

Placing the book on his desk, Elizabeth sets down the essay seperately for him, wincing slightly at the sound of his chair scraping against the stone floor. She takes a few steps back from the desk, watching him pass her before turning slightly to follow after him, her expression passive as he moves to inspect her cleaning.

Rudolphus walks around the classroom, pausing to draw his index finger across a ledge or surface. Books are plucked off shelves, and the covers opened and shut to see if an inordinate amount of dust scatters about. For the most part, the cleaning is done quite well; and the wizard appears satisfied. "Quite the improvement, Miss Dweedle. That dolty Sir Nicholas keeps ruffling up my collection of Encyclopaedia. Quite bothersome!" He keeps pacing across the room, trying various tests.

"You know, Miss Dweedle, I am considering taking a trip to Winchester in the break. An ancient stream is there - 'Qui bibet de uno diuturniori uita fruetur nec superuenienti languore grauabitur,' or so it is written in the histories. Are you familiar with the Curse of the Winchester waters? You seem an apt pupil if one ignores the silly girlishness."

Elizabeth blinks a few times, frowning slightly at the sudden change of topic as the Professor inspects her cleaning. Quirking a dark brow, she folds her arms behind her back, "I am not fully fluent in Latin." she admits passively. "Though it sounds somewhat intriguing." She lifts a shoulder in an idle shrug, though her sky blue eyes narrow on him for a moment. "'Silly… girlishness…'" she repeats the words, as if they themselves were something foreign.

"Yes, yes. Striking that silly boy and whatnot. Who knows what madness grips you children at your age? One moves past these frivolous matters with age; it is necessary to one's work." Rudolphus answers Elizabeth. Resuming the lecture, as he continues to pace the room, he explains, "Two more streams exist: 'Qui bibet de altero indeficienti fame peribit, et in facie ipsius pallor et horror sedebit' and 'Qui bibet de tercio subita morte periclitabitur, nec corpus ipsius subire poterit sepulchrum.' Quite nasty, I must say. The riddle is one of the simplest and most refined forms of magic, but has caused the downfall of scores of Witches and Wizards for unknown centuries. Those who correctly complete the spell are forbidden from revealing the answer to others. A very powerful form of the Tongue-Tying Curse appears to bind them." More areas of the classroom are inspected; Rudolphus appears satisfied. The wizard continues his lecture. Were one perceptive they would notice the very slight tremble in his hands.
"Yes, the Curse of the Winchester Waters. Three streams to choose, and horrible death in every but the correct one. And they can never be concealed, you see, these streams. So it is written: 'Terra namque in lapides, lapides in limpham, lignum in cineres, cinis in aquam, si superiecta fuerint, uertentur' - If earth is put over the spring, it will become stones, stones become water wood become ashes and ash become water. Nasty, foul black magic." Rudolphus' hands habitually reach inside his robes to produce a silver flask. As if reflecting upon her question, he answers, "The story begins, 'Tres fontes in urbe Guintonia erumpent, quorum riuuli insulam in trs portiones secabunt' - Three springs will appear in the city of Winchester, and their streams will cut the island in three. And it continues: 'Whoever drinks from the first will live a longer life, free from disease. Whoever drinks from the second will die of a thirst that cannot be quenched, and a ghastly pallor will appear on his face. Whoever drinks from the third will die a sudden death, and no one will be able to bury his body.'" And so Rudolphus translates the verses. "A prophecy is attached to the Winchester Curse, but I shall not repeat it." Those words are spoken in melancholy; the mage stares at a corner of the room, his eyes filled with foreboding. Pensive.

Elizabeth blinks again, her jaw firming for a moment though she remains quiet, glancing down at the polished stone floor as she wills herself to keep from lashing. She briefly shakes her head at herself, letting her arms fall to her sides again before she crosses them, frowning slightly as he continues on, talking about each of the rivers and the riddle. The Ravenclaw girl remains quiet, listening as he continues on and even hints at a prophesy, that earning an odd look from her. "And you are considering engaging an expedition to Winchester. Well I suppose it is an intriguing folklore, though you have yet to present any factual evidence of this… lore."

Rudolphus stops and swings about to face Elizabeth. His tone is deadly cold, and his eyes are narrow and angry! "Foolish girl! Do you know how many bones of witches and wizards have bleached in the sun unable to be buried by their relatives? No evidence! Insolent, silly child!" The wizard momentarily appears threatening and unstable, as if he might actually harm poor Elizabeth!

Elizabeth blinks with mild surprise as Rudolphus' mood shifts darker, yelling at her. Her pale blue eyes behind her glasses narrow on him, hardening. "Has a version of Prior Incantato ever been used on these bones? Do you have actual evidence that is indeed these rivers that have woven a spell into the very bones of the lives they have taken? And what if history has been incorrect all along and it is something else entirely that has caused the dead to be unburiable." she answers in reply, never raising her voice. "If this folklore is accurate, data must be gathered. Word of mouth is unreliable as people make mistakes. This is common knowledge." Elizabeth releases a slow breath. "Now if you will excuse me, Professor, I must return to my commons to study before bed."

"Insolence!" growls Rudolphus. "Magic is not a collection of folklore and fairytales, girl!" He pauses and, it would seem, collects himself. Glancing at the chalk-board, the wizard looks back at Elizabeth. "Very well. You have satisfactorily completed your detention. You are dismissed. Further acts of violence or impropriety are not to be tolerated, however, Miss Dweedle. We have alternative forms of punishment, you know, which have remained institutional halmarks since the Dark Ages. I am generally one of the more lenient professors, but I should hate to make a habit of discipline." Having said these words, the middle aged man turns toward the desk. Flicking his wand at the essay, the papers suddenly fly into an open leather portfolio briefcase.

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