With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
Post by FLEUR WEASLEY on Nov 30, 2019 22:10:28 GMT
The rays of the sun were turning orange as day slipped into evening, and Fleur, glancing up from the tall pile of parchment on her desk, flicked her wand, drawing the curtains closed over the tall classroom windows. Sunset was one of her favourite times of day, but she knew well that if she allowed herself, she was quite capable of sitting watching the slow approach of darkness for hours on end, which would go nowhere in getting her marking done.
And Merlin, such marking it was. For many years, Fleur had managed her own workload by ensuring that her classes handed in their essays at different points throughout the term so that she never found herself inundated with hundreds of sheets of stained, blotted, crumpled parchment at the same time, but this week, the system had come crashing down around her ears with the arrival of an unexpected Quidditch match. Though the French witch had never herself quite understood the British obsession with the sport, she did at least respect it, and did her best to avoid setting lengthy pieces of work around matches. But in so doing she'd established a precedent which she could hardly revoke; deadlines had had to be rescheduled, and here she was on a pleasant spring evening with a stack of parchment on her desk so high that she could barely see over it. Not ideal.
Still, it had to be done, and the blonde sighed as she dipped her quill once again into her inkwell, setting out a list of somewhat caustic comments at the foot of an essay which had been submitted by a Gryffindor girl capable of far more than she was demonstrating at present. Such students, Fleur found the most frustrating; she could understand those who genuinely lacked ability, and had discovered untapped wells of patience within herself which she had to access when dealing with them, but for those who simply didn't try, she had no such patience, and it showed.
See me was a phrase which she hated to append to anyone's work because her students quite obviously did see her; she was the teacher. Still... When in Rome...
A tentative knock sounded at the door, and the blonde frowned, glancing up at the clock on the wall. Rather late for any visitors, she would have thought, but perhaps it was important. "Entrez!" she called.
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Nov 30, 2019 23:20:04 GMT
This was it. Lyuba was going to fail Transfiguration, she just knew it. She was supposed to know how to do Switching Spells last year, and here she was, looking at the paper Professor Weasley had handed back that day with red marks all over it, feeling absolutely hopeless. Having a new professor didn't seem to have changed anything--no, it was Lyuba herself who couldn't do it. She'd handed in another essay recently that she'd done at the very last minute, having forgotten about it until she was about to go to sleep the night before it was due. But who could blame her, she thought, for spending more time with her friends than with her homework, when it was clear she just wasn't good at magic?
And so she stood outside the professor's office door, ready to beg for any possible advice about the subject that she might get. Her Papa had done his best to help her out over the winter break, but even then he'd only been able to show her how to do one particular spell. He always said she wasn't dumb, but the more time went on, Lyuba just felt like he had to say that because he was Papa.
"Professor?" she said, stepping tentatively into the room, clutching the failed paper in her hand and feeling like her voice was too loud for the quiet evening. "I was just wondering--sorry if it's really late to be here, I just got sidetracked doing something else, but I'm here now--could you maybe explain what I did wrong on this essay?" She bit her lip nervously.
Post by FLEUR WEASLEY on Nov 30, 2019 23:55:21 GMT
Fleur contemplated the girl for a moment. Lyubov Kareva... yes. One of the growing quantity of students that she wasn't quite sure about. On the one hand, she hadn't the slightest objection to students not being good at her class because they genuinely weren't suited to it; there was precious little that anyone could do about that, and though the blonde had many talents, she didn't think that rewriting personalities was amongst them. More was the pity. On the other hand, people who had potential failing her class because they simply couldn't be bothered to try was a situation with which Fleur had absolutely no sympathy whatsoever. Natural aptitude could only take one so far, and if her students couldn't force themselves to put in the hours then she could do nothing for them save for trying to crack the metaphorical whip a little. With Lyubov, it was not entirely clear where the lines were drawn, but perhaps she would be able to determine that tonight.
"Oui, oui." She gestured to one of the desks in the front row. "Pull up a chair, hm? And close ze door behind you. Which ezzay was zis? Switching Spells, yes?" Though she did her best to keep tabs on the work that she handed out, there had been so many different essays going around lately that Fleur had to admit she'd more or less entirely lost touch with everything.
Pushing the stack of parchment on her desk to one side, the witch indicated that the girl should bring a chair over to her. If she was going to speak to students individually, she never liked to have to raise her voice further than necessary,
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Dec 6, 2019 5:13:22 GMT
"Yep. Switching Spells." With a sigh, Lyuba set the parchment down on the professor's desk, pressing at it to try to smooth it out where she had been clenching it in her hand. Grabbing a chair from one of the first-row desks, she pulled it across the stone floor, its legs making a scraping noise, and sat down in front of the professor. "I really tried on this one, 'cause I thought I remembered from last year, but turns out I didn't really." Why had she gotten it so wrong? Sure, she'd messed this up on her fourth-year exams, but after that she thought she had learned it for sure.
But that wasn't the kind of thing that stuck in her brain. Some things stuck, like all the words to her favorite songs, but the details of spells that would make them work properly for her? Nope.
And she hated telling people about it. It was embarrassing to have other people know about everything she forgot. But if she was going to ever pass this O.W.L., she would have to do something. As long as, she thought, looking around the room, nobody else came in to see what she was talking about with Professor Weasley. "It's like I do my best to take notes in class, but I can't remember it when it really matters. And then I don't have any motivation, because I just--can't do it." Lyuba put her chin in her hand, frowning down at the essay on the desk.
"Nonsense," the blonde returned briskly, setting aside the papers that she'd been working through and turning her attention to her visitor. "You are a perfectly capable witch, mademoiselle; the trouble is that you give up too soon. Let me think... oui. Your essay was not entirely hopeless." And Merlin knew that there had been many which were, though she thought it unnecessary to share that fact with the Gryffindor at present. "There are, you see, some elements of promise in the earlier parts, but..." She reached over, tapping a particular point on the parchment with a manicured fingernail. "Here, you are giving up, you are distracted, you have had enough... I do not know what, but this essay which had potential, it collapses like... Like a balloon with a hole. It seems that you are going somewhere, you have intent, you have knowledge, but you do not express it, and if it is not on the parchment, it will not have the mark, you see?" Fleur pulled a textbook from a drawer, dropping it on the surface of her desk with a resounding thump. "Knowing what a Switching Spell is will never earn you an O. The clue, it is in the name. It is the technicalities, the subtleties, the intricate details... All of these, you must master, and a broad overview will not suffice, which is triste for you, because that is what you are giving me, you see?"
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Dec 12, 2019 4:14:19 GMT
Was Professor Weasley entirely sure that there was potential? The marks on the paper didn't seem to say so. Sure, that was a paper and not actually a spell, but it wasn't like she was any better with the actual spell. Her eyebrows came together in confusion as the professor spoke, trying to figure out what all her metaphors were pointing at. And the French. Two languages seemed to be plenty enough for Lyuba's brain; she wasn't sure what to make of the interjections of a third. At least she did know what mademoiselle meant--so that was something?
"I'm glad it's not completely terrible," she began, scanning over the parchment again. Maybe she did remember something. "But I think--I think it's the whole detail thing that gives me trouble. I know what I'm trying to do when I cast this spell, but I can't picture all the little bits and pieces." Transfiguration was all about the details, about knowing how each part of whatever you were transfiguring was going to change, and even though Lyuba knew that, she still couldn't seem to do it. "Is there something I can read that would tell me all of that? The technicalities, and stuff? Because I haven't been able to just figure it out from my notes." Yes, her notes were messy and had a lot of doodles, but she felt like she had gotten most of the information down. It just wasn't enough to get everything right on the essay.
Post by FLEUR WEASLEY on Dec 12, 2019 18:21:30 GMT
Essays. Ah, yes, essays. Merlin, there seemed to be so many of them, and even when she set something fairly short- which, she had to admit, was chiefly as a compromise between keeping her students ticking over and trying to give herself space to breathe-, she was generally thwarted by a certain number of students who persisted in writing three times as much as she asked for and about eight times as much as she actually wanted to mark. Still, at least it meant that she had had more than enough practice at providing feedback on them, though it was quite incredible how much they varied. Some were excellent in content but poorly phrased, badly organised, and generally almost incomprehensible. Others were well written and had a coherent structure to them but still did not disguise the author's complete lack of knowledge on the subject at hand. And then there were those which fell between the two extremes, or managed to combine both. Endless fun, with heavy sarcasm on the fun.
"That is the problem which many people have with it," she agreed, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Transfiguration is a very technical form of magic. There is no room for error, you see. If you do not find that your textbook is helpful- you have been reading it, yes?- then I may have one or two books which will be of use to you, but the best way to make progress is practice. Every day, five or ten minutes. You see?"
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Dec 26, 2019 3:07:17 GMT
Had Lyuba really, truly, been reading the book? She thought she had been. She felt like she had been. At least it certainly felt like reading when she was sprawled out on her bed flipping through the chapter, doing her best to grit her teeth and force the words on the page into her brain. The words entered her mind, but they didn't seem to translate into actions. "I did read," she said, frowning, "but I didn't feel like it was working at all."
She considered. If that book didn't work, would other ones work? Maybe they would, so she would ask for them and try to read them, but like the professor seemed to be, she wasn't sure that it would help. If five years worth of Transfiguration books had only been able to scrape her through exams by the skin of her teeth, one more probably wouldn't make much difference.
Maybe practice would help. She felt like she had been practicing too, but the truth was that it often slipped her mind. She would mean to do it, and then somehow she'd be in bed and it was midnight and she'd remember too late that she was supposed to study. But--Professor Weasley was probably right. She just had to figure out a way to actually do it.
"What's the best way to practice? 'Cause sometimes, I try, but then I do the same spell over and over and nothing happens, and I just get frustrated. And then--" oh, this was embarrassing. "Sometimes it just comes out as fire. And I don't know what that's about, or how to get it to not happen."
Post by FLEUR WEASLEY on Dec 29, 2019 11:54:48 GMT
"For how long?" Fleur enquired shrewdly, having become accustomed to the teenage tendency to give up after five minutes of attempting something unpleasant. "Transfiguration is both an art and a science, and to truly understand even its simplest manifestations does not come easily." Well, it had for her, but that was neither here nor there and she doubted that that was the sort of thing which Lyubov needed to hear in any case. Had Fleur been the average Transfiguration student then she was unlikely to have ended up teaching it.
It had to be said that she personally found only limited interest in the average student. Of course she enjoyed teaching the exceptional, pushing and challenging them and forcing them to explore the true limits of their potential, not to mention revisiting some of her own more advanced knowledge, but if it was possible, she enjoyed working with the students who found her subject a struggle even more. It was a challenge for her, as much as for them, and she always had loved to stretch herself. With Lyubov, she was sure that sooner or later, she would win through. Thus far, she hadn't had long to get to grips with things, but Fleur's confidence in herself was such that she was sure she'd have the Gryffindor in her NEWT class next year. Transfiguration was such a beautiful subject, and when one got hold of the core concepts, everything suddenly became so easy.
"That is interesting..." she mused, largely to herself, and considered for a moment before continuing. "You must know that I do not wish to pry, but you are Veela in part, are you not, Lyubov? I may call you Lyubov?"
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Jan 2, 2020 3:50:13 GMT
That was--that was a good question. Lyuba tended to lose track of time constantly, knowing that she would probably be late to class every day if it wasn't for her roommates making noise in the morning. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't say exactly how much she practiced each day. Only that sometimes she practiced a lot and other times she had to give up in frustration very quickly, when her wand seemed to be too stubborn to produce anything at all.
"Sometimes more, sometimes less," she said, shrugging. "When I try to cast a spell and nothing happens then I don't want to keep practicing anymore, because then I just want to cry." She didn't know how she was supposed to have patience when there seemed to be no sign of improvement. "I think it's because I do it wrong, but then I don't have anyone to show me how to do it right." And she would rather die than admit to one of her classmates that she needed them to help her. That was why she was visiting the professor alone.
"Yeah, you can call me Lyubov. Or just Lyuba. That's the nickname, in Russian." Professors usually ended up calling her Miss Kareva, which she'd gotten used to, but felt really formal. "And--yeah, my Mama, she was a veela," she continued, a little quieter. A woman who she knew nothing about except for pictures and a name--and for the strange bits of magic that had been passed down to her without any instructions.
Fleur steepled her fingers together and contemplated them for a moment before realising what she was doing and intertwining them instead. That was a habit that she'd picked up from her mother recently, but she had no wish to make herself look older than she was, and she didn't think it was a typically youth-making mannerism.
It was an interesting problem, though. Frustration wasn't something that was new to Fleur; a considerable number of the younger students suffered from it, and even if they didn't end up throwing things across the room, the loss of mental focus could quite easily be fatal to the final result. There was really nothing for it.
"Well, Lyuba," she began, "I am sure you know that the Veela, they do not practice magic in the same way as witches and wizards; their magic is more... intuitive. More attuned to their emotions, for they are emotional creatures. Fire is their response to anger or stress, and I think that this is why you suffer as you do. It is interesting, though, that your Transfiguration should cause you the problems. Transformation is part of the very nature of Veela. Myself, I am only one-quarter... You, you are one-half, no? For you, I would think it came naturally, more so than for me, but not to worry. All will improve. It will help you first, I think, to know what you are to do. There is a balance which you must strike- to practice when you are frustrated will be of no use to you, you are right, and when you are upset or angry then you must stop. Take a moment. Relax. When you are calm again, then you continue. But still you must practice, and so you must try not to become frustrated, not to become upset, yes? Deep breaths. Now..." Fleur glanced down at her diary lying open on the desk. "If you came to me regularly, you think that it would help?"
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Jan 5, 2020 16:43:29 GMT
A heavy weight settled in Lyuba's stomach as she listened to the professor talk. She was supposed to be good at this and she wasn't. It was like all her worst fears were confirmed: there was nothing she could blame her academic struggles on, it was meant to come naturally to her, but since it didn't?
Everything was wrong with her and her alone.
"Yeah--my sisters, they're good at it." Lyuba's voice dipped even lower, the near-whisper a rare thing to hear from her. "But I'm sure you know that. I know Nadya's in your class." Nadya who'd had perfectly fine O.W.L.s, the ones she hadn't passed being ones that she claimed she didn't care about anyway. And here Lyuba was, terrified that she wouldn't even manage the five she was supposed to get at least. "I don't want to be a veela. I don't. It makes everything harder."
She could feel the hot rush of tears coming to her eyes, and she blinked furiously, trying to push them away. Professor Weasley was telling her to stay calm, to not become upset. She wanted to be able to do that, she did, but how?
"If I could come here, and you could help me, I'd like that a lot." Lyuba stared down at her legs, feeling as if her height was far too much for how small she felt right now. "It doesn't have to be a lot. I know you're really busy. But I just--I want to pass, I do."
The blonde nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the girl in front of her. She had to say that she'd noticed Lyubov struggling for some time now, but she had generally found it more productive to wait until someone felt that they could come to her, rather than pouncing on them at the end of a lesson and demanding that they put in extra work- most of the time, she had quite enough of a job getting people to do their homework. There was a fine balance to strike, though; OWLs were not so far away as they could have been. But there was plenty of time yet, she was sure. Fleur had never lacked for confidence.
"Those who fight hardest will win out in the end," she murmured, though more to herself than to her student. "Lyuba..." Gently, she nudged a box of tissues across the desk. "Transfiguration is not an easy subject. But I do not have to tell you this. I promise you, it will be easier. It is like... It is like riding a bicycle. A struggle at first, but you have done it ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred times, and you do it without thinking, hmm?" Not that Fleur had been on a bicycle for more years than she cared to think of, but that was beside the point. "I have time for you, always. If my first years must wait a day or so to have their essays back then they will not complain. You will not fail; I will not let you. You have my word."
a charming young woman... ...capable of being terrible
GRYFFINDOR
16
SIXTH YEAR
1/2 VEELA
we're not running when the world's on fire/we'll be dancing in the smoke
73 posts
0 likes
Post by LYUBOV KAREVA on Jan 12, 2020 19:48:34 GMT
Lyuba wanted to win out in the end. She wanted to believe that there was still hope for her, that maybe someday it would all click and she wouldn't have to worry about her wand doing something entirely opposite of what she wanted it to do. And she really wanted to believe that it would happen before exams, before it was too late and she would have that on her record forever. She could see the Chocolate Frog card already: Lyubov Kareva, known for failing every single one of her O.W.L.s. It sounded like a nightmare--no, it was the kind of thing she did see in her nightmares.
She took a tissue from the professor's desk, dabbing at her eyes and the few tears that had managed to sneak out even through her determination to keep them inside. "Thank you. A lot. I mean it. I bet it'll help." It had to help, if Professor Weasley was going to be able to see exactly what she was doing wrong and fix it. Now she had the actual professor on her side, something that she never felt like she had throughout all the years she'd been at school. "I'll see you, for the practice, then?" She moved to get up, but then paused, feeling the way her eyes must be all red by now. Grabbing another tissue, she wiped the tears away. "I--have to stop crying. To be calm. Then I'll see you later."
Post by FLEUR WEASLEY on Jan 19, 2020 15:52:46 GMT
They said that everyone had their strong and weak points, and Fleur could well believe it, but the trouble was that students themselves didn't seem to be inclined to think that way. Some considered themselves all strength; some considered themselves all weakness. And yet as ever, the truth was difficult to discern against the sheer mass of misinterpretations that seemed to be rampant in the school. Some students, whom Fleur herself would have described as being not much above average, seemed to be considered in the light of sheer genii by their peers, then there were those who could answer every question and were predicted to gain Os only because there was no higher mark, and an amazing number of the latter didn't seem to be recognised. Partly, the blonde was convinced, because being intelligent was apparently a social faux pas, though why this should be the case was beyond her. It had never been that way at Beauxbatons... or then again, perhaps it had and her reputation had simply been preserved by her Veela heritage. Difficult to tell.
"You are a very capable witch, Lyuba," Fleur reminded the girl gently, watching with sympathy as she went to stand. "These problems happen for us all. Sooner or later, you will get it." Perhaps, she thought, it might help if she tried giving the Gryffindor some spells that might interest her more to begin with. "Oui, I shall see you soon. And try to keep your spirits up, hm?"
