#gentz

[count-lero]

The session of plenipotentiaries that never happened,

Or The tale of how I rediscovered that one lithography of Isabey’s famous painting in extremely high resolution and went through a total recall, so that everybody could suffer (myself including) ⭐️

The arrival of the Duke of Wellington had not only affected Vienna's diplomatic activity and social calendar; it was also posing a problem to the painter Jean-Baptiste Isabey, who was trying to capture the congress on canvas. He had been working for some time, and he had finally found a way to balance all the strong personalities, many of them patrons, into one single painting, and yet not offend national sensibilities or fragile egos.

The painting, which depicted the delegates gathered in a conference room, turned out to be a compromise in the best spirit of Vienna diplomacy.

Metternich, the president of the Congress, draws the eye, as the only standing figure in the foreground.

Castlereagh, though, commands the center, sitting with his legs gracefully crossed and elbow resting on the table.

The light shining through the window, however, falls onto Talleyrand, sitting across the table with his dress sword at his side. An empty chair on both his right and left make him further stand out, as do the nearby figures who look to him, just as many of the smaller powers had sought his leadership the last few months.

As Isabey was putting the finishing touches to his composition, he had to figure out what to do about the fact that the Duke of Wellington was now also in town. Starting over was out of the question. Omitting a man of his stature was equally impossible. Yet it was not easy to incorporate him into a canvas on which all the best places had already been taken. The painter's solution was simple and elegant: why not make the painting commemorate the Duke of Wellington's arrival in Vienna?

That way, the duke could simply be inserted on the far left side of the painting, without any insult to his position. As for the duke's reluctance to be painted from a side angle (he was self-conscious about his nose), Isabey had overcome that with a well-targeted compliment: didn't Wellington look like the handsome and chivalric Henry IV? Pleased with this comparison, Wellington accepted, joking that Isabey was a "good enough diplomat to take part in the Congress".

The painter also had to apply his finesse to convince Humboldt to enter the studio. The Prussian ambassador hated to have his portrait made, and, sure enough, he first declined, claiming that he had "too ugly a face ever to spend a penny" on a portrait. With this statement, Isabey saw his opportunity and emphasized that he would not "ask the slightest recompense for the pleasant trouble I am going to take". Isabey only wanted "the favor of a few sittings".

"Oh, is that all?" Humboldt quickly came around when he realized it would not cost him anything. "You can have as many sittings as you like".

Later, many congratulated Isabey on his portrait, particularly the fine job with Humboldt. The Prussian did not pay anything, as agreed, and Isabey got his revenge, Humboldt joked, by painting "an excellent likeness of me".

Few could complain of the treatment received from Isabey's flattering brush. This famous painting of the Congress of Vienna was pleasing to all, though typical of this peace conference, the scene was purely imaginary. The group of twenty-three delegates had never met in exactly this way before. Isabey had painted the portraits of each figure individually, and then later assembled the whole group together.

And so, symbolically, this simulated image would commemorate a congress that never was.

After that spectacular depiction of historical context surrounding Isabey’s magnificent canvas by David King few things are left to be added. I would simply love to highlight some other figures of utmost importance for the diplomatic life of that illustrious historical period - there are

Karl August von Hardenberg, Prime Minister of Prussia at the time;

Herren Wacken and Friedrich von Gentz, two Secretaries who were responsible for the protocols of the most important Congress' meetings;

count Karl Vasilyevich Nesselrode, a Russian-German diplomat, who became state chancellor of the Russian Empire in 1816;

prince Andrey (Andrew) Kirillovich Razumovsky, an extremely wealthy Russian aristocrat and diplomat, for whom Vienna was like his second home;

and we shouldn’t (or rather can’t) forget about general Charles Stewart-Vane, Castlereagh’s younger brother who definitely knew how to throw an unforgettable party, so refined aristocratic society could discuss his wild adventures at their fashionable salon meetings day and night. ✨

P.S.

Perhaps, there should be more posts with other details of the lithograph as well as Isabey’s original canvas, I’ll just need some time and motivation for that. 👌

[euyrdice]

obsessed with the osakaan details karasu has

[fantasywriter19]

1. Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone Ch.10 The Sorting

No sooner had Mr. Hagrid knocked on the door than it swung open, revealing a tall, black-haired witch in emerald robes with a very stern expression on her face.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall,” Mr. Hagrid told the woman.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here,” Professor McGonagall said.

Pulling the door wider, all the students around me looked in the entrance hall with wonder. It was fairly big, and I was somewhat surprised I hadn't really paid attention to it before as the stones were now lit with flaming torches and the ceiling went too high to look at. There was also a magnificent looking marble staircase facing us, leading upstairs.

Professor McGonagall led us across the floor, and there was the drone of a hundred or more voices from the Great Hall. She didn't lead us there, but instead took us into a small chamber close by. We all crowded in, standing very close to one another.

I looked around me. Becky was just about the only one looking excited while everyone else was extremely nervous. What are we going to do to find out which House we belong in?

Then, Professor McGonagall told us, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of each year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.

”I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

Professor McGonagall left the chamber and everyone started whispering nervously.

"What do we do for the ceremony?" I asked aloud, not caring who answered it so long as someone said something.

"I dunno, it's supposed to be a surprise,” Draco replied with a shrug.

I looked around at all the nervous incoming students. A lot of them were pale. Looking over at Harry Potter, I saw he was almost to the point of devastation he was shaking so much.

Why is that...? I looked away quickly as I realized I was reading too much into his emotions. Come on, Melody, this is not the school to be looking into other people’s minds at your every fancy. Not under Dumbledore’s watch.

Suddenly everyone started screaming and, turning to see what caused it, I made a small gasp. About twenty or so ghosts were streaming in through the back wall. They were all a pearly-white, transparent bunch, barely glancing at us as they glided across the room above us, all talking to one another. Some seemed to be arguing.

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —” a fat little monk ghost was saying.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?" a ghost wearing a ruff and tights asked all of us, but no one answered. All we could do was stare.

All those months in Hogwarts and I didn't remember seeing a single ghost! What is this?

"New students!" the Friar said excitedly, smiling at us. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Some people, I saw, nodded, still taking in the appearance of the ghosts while I looked away. It was all really weird, too weird, to only just now see that there were ghosts floating about the school. How could I have possibly missed them? Did they just happen to always be in different rooms from me for all that time?

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" I heard the Friar exclaim. "My old House you know."

Addy let out a small giggle as he passed by us with an excited expression.

Professor McGonagall came back into the room and snapped at the ghosts, "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Each of the ghosts floated away, one by one, through the opposite wall from whence they came.

Then she spoke to us, "Now, form a line, and follow me."

We all got into line; me behind Draco, and Becky behind me. Professor McGonagall led us out of the chamber, back across the hall, and into the Great Hall.

This was also the first time I really looked at the Great Hall since, the last time I went in, I was hurrying to get out. But now I couldn't, because I had to do something in front of the whole school anyway. Looking at it, it was lit by thousands and thousands of candles all floating in midair above the four long tables which were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. Then I looked up at the ceiling, remembering from the book, Hogwarts: A History, that it was bewitched to look like the sky outside.

Hearing a “Psst!” I looked over at the Gryffindor table to see the Weasley twins giving me a thumbs up. I gave one back to them to show that I was ready.

Professor McGonagall led us near where the fifth table was, the one with all the teachers and Professor Dumbledore. Then she placed a four-legged stool in front of us, and on top of it placed a pointed wizard's hat. It was patched, frayed, and very dirty looking.

What do we do with that? I thought. But then a rip near the brim opened up like a mouth, and the hat sang a song:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

As the hat finished its song, I heard the whole hall burst into applause. The hat bowed to each House table and then sat still.

“Ravenclaw or Slytherin?” Becky whispered to me.

“I don’t know," I replied softly, my nerves twisting at the thought of being sorted away from them. “I’m mostly worried that we may not end up in the same House.”

“I’m worried, too,” Addy admitted from behind Becky.

“We can try to. And even if we aren't, we can still hang out together." Becky said.

I nodded, a bit relieved at the suggestion. "Yeah, that's what we need to do."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a piece of parchment in her hands. A list of the students? “When I call your name,” she said, “You will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”

"With everyone watching?" Becky asked gleefully.

My lips pursed, Only she could be excited about that.

“Obviously,” Addy said through gritted teeth, though I hardly heard her. My attention was on Professor McGonagall… and the hat that would decide our fates.

"Abbot, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall said, holding the hat until a girl came up and sat down.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat yelled. The Hufflepuff table burst into applause.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"Slytherin!"

I felt like tuning everything out, all that was going on generally consisted of shouting and applause. There were even pauses. Sometimes the hat chose instantly, and sometimes it took a while to decide.

Of course, there were certain people I didn't tune out for. Vincent and Greg were in Slytherin… of course.

"Figsund, Rebecca!"

When Becky went up, she took the hat from Professor McGonagall’s hands to put it on herself — with the deputy Headmistress’ lips pursing in response — and the hat took a while before it, too, shouted out that she was “Slytherin!"

That girl gave her Cheshire grin toward the Ravenclaw table and, handing the hat back to Professor McGonagall, went to the Slytherin table without hesitation, sitting directly across from Vincent.

“Gentz, Addison!” When Addy went up, her hands shaking uncontrollably, the House put her in "Hufflepuff!" She wandered over to her table, glancing at me and Becky like a lost puppy.

Oh boy, I thought worriedly, They’re already in two separate Houses. But it’s okay, we’ll still hang out together like Becky said. Right?

I actually perked up to listen when "Granger, Hermione!” was called.

"Gryffindor!"

Hm, I thought to myself with a sigh, another separate House. I don't think I'll be in that one. I can’t really consider myself that 'brave' of a person. No Weasley twins — which also thankfully means no Hermione Granger — for me.

As I was thinking this, “Longbottom, Neville!” was called to the stool and placed in Gryffindor. He doesn't seem very brave, maybe I have a chance, I thought as he accidentally ran to the table with the hat still on his head, and had to run back to return it to Professor McGonagall.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

I watched as Draco made his way over to the Sorting Hat, and it very barely touched his head when it shouted out “Slytherin!” He excitedly went to sit down with Greg, Vincent, and Becky, sitting across from the empty space next to Becky. He glanced at the space as though expecting someone to sit there…. Me? Is he waiting for me?

Some more people went up. I found out that the name of the girl who was in the same boat as us coming here was Pansy Parkinson, and she was also put in Slytherin.

A couple more names later and out came, "Potter, Harry!"

It was amazing how many people broke out in whispers, watching him nervously make his way up to the stool and sit down on it. When the hat was placed on him, as with everyone else, it covered his eyes. After a while, I saw him grip on the edges of the chair, as if in an argument with the hat. Then came the shout of, "Gryffindor!"

There were screams of excitement as the hat was taken off of Harry, and he made his way to the Gryffindor table. Everyone there was overjoyed. Fred and George were even shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

I chuckled softly.

"Riddle, Melody!”

It took a moment longer for me to realize that I was called right after Harry. Going up, no one was really looking at me, but at him. I appreciated not having all the attention, so it looked like it paid well for me to be after this boy. But I did have the attention of Draco, Vincent, Greg, Addy, Hermione, Becky, and the Weasley twins. Even Professors Snape and Dumbledore were interested in watching me.

The hat slipped onto my head and I was engulfed in darkness. I felt the probe of something entering my mind, much like Professor Snape attempted one month ago, but this time I didn’t push it out. It had to be the hat picking my House from my personality, I supposed.

"Hmm, very very difficult to choose," I heard the hat say, but I only just realized it was echoing through my mind, not for anyone else to hear. "You have a dark family history, that's for certain. A very clever and cunning girl. You have the intellect to get yourself out of tight spaces, but also the guile to deceive the most powerful of wizards."

I wondered just what he was talking about… I’ve never thought of myself as cunning.

“The House with the most cunning of individuals would suit you well, not just from your nature but also from your ancestors. Much, much better than only wits. Better be…" I felt the hat come out of my head to shout out to the hall, "Slytherin!"

The hat came off of my head, and I made my way over to the Slytherin table in utter confusion. What had that hat been babbling about? Dark family history? My cunning nature? Deceit? My ancestors? What could it possibly base all of that on?

I sat down next to Becky, and looked over at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Addy looked like she was let down. Hermione was frowning slightly… though our meeting had only been brief. The twins' mouths were understandably opened wide.

"We're all together!" Draco said excitedly.

Yeah, but unluckily for you we have Becky. I started whispering to her, "We can check with Addy maybe tomorrow to see if we have any classes with her, and perhaps a free time."

Becky nodded vigorously. "I'm just glad that I'm not the one who's alone. Addy can handle herself, at least.... But look at my brother!" This she added with considerable annoyance, pointing to the Ravenclaw table.

I looked over at the Ravenclaw table where her brother, who had curly, light brown hair, was going back and forth between smiling and frowning. Then he looked over at Becky and did some hand motions at her that I didn't understand.

She looked at him angrily, giving hand motions back and turning pointedly away from him. He turned to watch the rest of the sorting, which didn't have very many people left.

"What did he just say?" I asked her.

"That he's going to send a letter to dad about me getting into Slytherin," she said moodily.

“I thought you might want to be the unique one in your family,” I said thoughtfully. “Especially with the way you first smiled after you were sorted.”

She grinned, “Oh, I do. I have to get past the shaming first, but then I’ll be ever so happy.”

I snorted with laughter. She was certainly something else.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

”I honestly don't understand its decision for me," I told her truthfully, causing her to look at me curiously. "It basically said I'm so smart that I'm cunning…. It even said something about my family history being dark, so I don't know. But I believe I was really close to Ravenclaw."

“Yeah…” Becky said thoughtfully. “But at least this isn't so bad!"

"Are you joking?" Draco asked her, more than eager to join the conversation. "Slytherin is perfect! Hufflepuff's a bore! Ravenclaw's deadly! And Gryffindor's are just a bunch of tossers."

I snorted. “Well, aren’t I glad not to be in the 'tosser' category.”

Becky was stifling her laughter, having a really hard time not bursting it out. She finally was able to choke out, "Raven – claw the – most – deadly? Oh – my – brother wouldn’t – get a kick – out of that! Better – not tell that – to my parents! Haha!"

Draco’s pleased, flushed cheeks said it all.

After the sorting, Professor McGonagall took away the stool and the Sorting Hat. Professor Dumbledore now stood up, beaming at all of us and holding his arms out as if trying to embrace us in a large group hug.

He began a speech… an extremely short, exceedingly weird speech. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

Everyone clapped and cheered as he sat down, and I laughed out loud with Becky. "He's a bit odd isn't he?" I asked.

But before Becky could even get out a response, both our mouths almost fell open in shock as the dishes in the middle of the table were now filled with a lot of different foods. It was the most I'd ever seen, even in all the banquets I'd ever been to.

We all started loading our plates. I filled mine with roast chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and some peas. Didn’t want to overload if, with the way this looked, there was some dessert to come after it.

A ghost suddenly came over to us and sat down next to Draco, who looked nervously at him. The ghost looked very horrible, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with what I supposed was blood, but it was silvery like the rest of his body.

"Hello," he said to us curtly. "New first years I see."

"Hi," I said, deciding to be friendly, though he looked fairly bedraggled and menacing. "What's your name?"

"I am the Bloody Baron, your House Ghost…… You have a vaguely familiar aura about you, you know?" he said to me. Draco paled, as if he was talking to him.

"Perhaps because my dad was in your House when he was at Hogwarts.”

"Hmm…" he thought aloud, "What is your name again?"

"Melody Riddle,” I said. “My dad was Tom.”

"Ah yes! Tom Riddle was in this House, a very clever young man…. Now that I think about it, you look a bit like him. Who was your mother?" he asked, immediately intrigued. But, I noted, when I said my last name he flinched a little.

"Orele Ollivander. She was in Ravenclaw,” I said, nonplussed when everyone around me suddenly gasped. "What?!" I asked, miffed that I had forgotten to attempt not mentioning my relationship to the famous wandmaker.

"Orele! I remember her. No wonder your eyes are like that. So she had a child with Tom Riddle… how lovely." Though the Bloody Baron said 'how lovely’, his tone was dry. "No doubt you will be great in all your classes as they were, and perhaps even a strong interest in the Dark Arts they had."

"Yeah, I guess," I said slowly. “So you knew them well?”

“Both of them were top of their class, and the most popular in their years! Was not one student that didn’t know their names,” the Bloody Baron said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he glided quickly away for another Slytherin to talk to. I thought it was slightly odd that he should know so much about my own parents… remember them specifically, even, over a span of however long he himself had been dead. They may have been popular in their years, sure, but to think about how many popular kids there have been over time was unthinkable.

"You're related to Mr. Ollivander?" Becky asked me. I nodded. "Why didn't you guys act like family when we went to the shop together? You were asking so many questions about him!”

Draco was looking just as intrigued.

"I only found out about it after you and Addy left the shop, so I hadn't actually known at the time when we were getting our wands," I said, cutting into my chicken and explaining to them about what had happened. I was doing my best to eat and talk, but not with my mouth full. When I finally finished talking, I had also finished eating, and dessert had appeared in the dishes where the entrée had been.

“That’s incredible. I’d have had no clue,” Becky said thoughtfully. “Although perhaps the giveaway should’ve been the eyes. Honestly, just the fact that I hadn’t even thought of it before is mind boggling. You and your mother have those unique eyes of his.”

Draco leaned forward, a pumpkin pasty in hand as he stared at me. “Wow, they really are that silvery. And I thought that was just because he was blind.”

“Honestly, don’t even worry about it,” I said, helping myself to some chocolate ice cream and chocolate éclairs, biting into the latter and feeling very satisfied. If this was what meals were going to look like every day, then I was happy to admit that I was in heaven. “I’d rather talk about something else, anyway.”

“All right,” Becky said with a shrug, already finding the means to change the subject. “I notice you don't eat much, but you sure do like chocolate.”

”Let her eat what she wants," Draco said. "What she eats is none of your concern. It’s what you feed yourself that you should worry about."

"Excuse me if I like to observe how the people around me eat," Becky said. "Like I don't know if I want to always sit near you, because you eat like a pig. Hoarding everything you see into your body."

”I do not!" Draco defended himself, another pink tinge finding its way into his cheeks.

"Have you honestly seen yourself?" Becky asked him.

"How about the both of you stop fighting for the rest of the feast and wait for tomorrow?" I asked them. They actually nodded, glaring at each other.

I took that moment to glance up at the teacher's table. There was Professor Snape seated next to Professor Quirrell. Neither looked happy with their seating arrangements. Professor Quirrell was still very, very jittery. Contrary to what mom had promised, I was certain he was still going to be a stutterer. Professor Snape himself still looked plain annoyed.

Then, I saw something fairly strange. At the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter looked up at Professor Snape who looked back at him with such levels of hate and anger that — though I couldn't place what was so wrong — I could feel that energy without even needing to attempt to study it. But, as soon as that happened, Quirrell suddenly grabbed the back of his turban as if it was about ready to fall off and Harry clutched at his forehead in pain.

Then everything seemed as though it all suddenly subsided.

When Harry looked back up at the teacher's table, though, his eyes went right for Professor Snape. How odd, I thought curiously.

Once the desserts disappeared, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall was finally silent.

“Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered.”

I wondered if it was going to be another three random words. I was pleasantly surprised when it was not.

"I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

I felt my face scrunch up at this news, thinking that though the warning was very straightforward, it also didn’t explain very much. My friends chuckled softly at it, but I wasn't sure whether or not this was a laughing matter. He was obviously a crazy man, but with the way he had just said it… he might as well have been serious.

Professor Dumbledore spoke again, "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" He gave his wand a small flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, rising high above each of the tables and twisting itself into words for us to read. "Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

I listened to the rest of the school sing:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling,

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everyone had a different beat to their tunes, stopping at different times. The Weasley twins were the last ones singing the words to a very slow funeral march, Professor Dumbledore conducted the last few lines they sang.

Wiping a happy tear out of his eye, he commented, “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

After the feast, the Slytherin Prefects called for all first year Slytherins to follow them — and we did so eagerly — out of the Great Hall. The girl prefect — tall with mousy brown hair — talked to us while she walked, the boy prefect just following silently behind us all. I only listened out of curiosity but wondered at the back of my mind where they would be taking us for the Slytherin dormitories.

"Congratulations!" the girl said, waving her hands in the air. How flamboyant. "I'm Prefect Gemma Farley, and I'm delighted to welcome you to Slytherin House. Our emblem is the serpent, the wisest of creatures; our House colours are emerald green and silver, and our common room lies behind a concealed entrance down in the dungeons. As you'll see, its windows look out into the depths of the Hogwarts lake. We often see the giant squid swooshing by — and sometimes more interesting creatures. We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck.

"Now, there are a few things you should know about Slytherin — and a few you should forget."

Of course we’re in the dungeons… perfect for me. It’s just what the doctor ordered.

“Firstly, let's dispel a few myths. You might have heard rumours about Slytherin House — that we're all into the Dark Arts, and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard, and rubbish like that. Well, you don't want to believe everything you hear from competing Houses. I'm not denying that we've produced our share of Dark wizards, but so have the other three Houses — they just don't like admitting it. And yes, we have traditionally tended to take students who come from long lines of witches and wizards, but nowadays you'll find plenty of people in Slytherin House who have at least one Muggle parent.”

Draco and plenty of other Slytherins scowled and scanned the faces around them as though they would be able to tell who was Muggleborn. I resisted the need to scowl, thinking of my Muggle stepfather with a heavy heart.

“Here's a little-known fact that the other three Houses don't bring up much: Merlin was a Slytherin. Yes, Merlin himself, the most famous wizard in history! He learned all he knew in this very House! Do you want to follow in the footsteps of Merlin? Or would you rather sit at the old desk of that illustrious ex-Hufflepuff, Eglantine Puffett, inventor of the Self-Soaping Dishcloth?”

No one answered. It somehow felt understandable, though I wondered what the historic Merlin was really famous for. There were plenty of stories and fairy tales told in the Muggle world, but they couldn't be the truth — just spins on the real one.

"I didn't think so," Gemma said smugly. "But that's enough about what we're not. Let's talk about what we are, which is the coolest and edgiest House in this school. We play to win, because we care about the honor and traditions of Slytherin."

I liked the wording there. Gemma was making a great first impression for Slytherins — if only other Houses could hear it without disagreeing.

"We also get respect from our fellow students. Yes, some of that respect might be tinged with fear, because of our Dark reputation, but you know what? It can be fun, having a reputation for walking on the wild side. Chuck out a few hints that you've got access to a whole library of curses, and see whether anyone feels like nicking your quill."

Feared? I thought uncertainly. Do I want that?.. Matter of fact, why does the idea bug me so much?

"But we're not bad people. We're like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood.

"For instance, we Slytherins look after our own – which is more than you can say for Ravenclaw. Apart from being the biggest bunch of swots you ever met, Ravenclaws are famous for clambering over each other to get good marks, whereas we Slytherins are brothers. The corridors of Hogwarts can throw up surprises for the unwary, and you'll be glad you've got the Serpents on your side as you move around the school. As far as we're concerned, once you've become a snake, you're one of ours — one of the elite."

Becky sniggered silently next to me, as well as Draco. The whole thing about the Ravenclaws was obviously funny to them — to me too. I almost thought I wanted to be with them. But I personally didn’t care that much about grading higher than others. At least, I thought, Becky and Draco could get along through this.

Gemma continued, “Because you know what Salazar Slytherin looked for in his chosen students? The seeds of greatness. You've been chosen by this House because you've got the potential to be great, in the true sense of the word. All right, you might see a couple of people hanging around the common room whom you might not think are destined for anything special. Well, keep that to yourself. If the Sorting Hat put them in here, there's something great about them, and don't you forget it.

“And talking of people who aren't destined for greatness, I haven't mentioned the Gryffindors. Now, a lot of people say that Slytherins and Gryffindors represent two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think Gryffindors are nothing more than wannabe Slytherins. Mind you, some people say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor prized the same kinds of students, so perhaps we are more similar than we like to think. But that doesn't mean that we cosy up with Gryffindors. They like beating us only slightly less than we like beating them.”

Great, I thought with slight sadness, enemies with Gryffindors. What fun. Well, it proves what mom told me. She gave plenty of warning in all exactness.

“A few more things you might need to know: our House Ghost is the Bloody Baron. If you get on the right side of him he'll sometimes agree to frighten people for you. Just don't ask him how he got bloodstained; he doesn't like it.

“The password to the common room changes every fortnight. Keep an eye on the noticeboard. Never bring anyone from another House into our common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for more than seven centuries.

"Well, I think that's all for now. I'm sure you'll like our dormitories. We sleep in ancient four-posters with green silk hangings, and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins cover the walls, and silver lanterns hang from the ceilings. You'll sleep well; it's very soothing, listening to the lake water lapping against the windows at night.”

By that point, we had reached the dungeons. I was surprised by how perfect Slytherin House seemed now. Although, Draco’s face whitened considerably at the mention of the Bloody Baron. Poor boy.

Gemma stopped up by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. She said "Salazar," and a stone door concealed within the wall opened. We all went in, ending up in a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling. There were round, green lamps above us hanging on chains, a fire was crackling under a nicely carved mantelpiece, and there were a couple high-backed chairs by the fire underneath it.

"This is nice," Becky whispered to me. "Might not be too bad."

Draco glared at her again. I kept my mind reading out of it, and imagined that he was thinking: 'Of course it won't be too bad! This is Slytherin, it's amazing!'

Gemma led us to our dormitories. The older students were already in theirs, I guessed, as we made our way to the first year girl's dorms, losing the boys to theirs.

We had just gone up a few steps to get to our dorms, and there was no doubting the soothing sound of the lake water’s light splashing. Becky and I didn't say much to our new roommates, Millicent and Pansy. We just dressed in our pajamas, bade each other good night, and once we lay down we fell asleep instantly from the long day.

< Previous Chapter     -Table of Contents-     Next Chapter >

[ursidaepilled]

after coming across a fathers day post, i now realize that i couldve drawn cliff and yuna or gentz and fina . Maybe it’ll happen next year (or this year idk why i should wait to post silly things)

[dinoberrypress]

We’re home and resting from the whirlwind of a weekend we just had, and we wanted to take a minute to talk about the wonderful time that was Breakout Con!

This was not only our first time at a convention as guests and Nevyn’s first time running games at a con, but our first time travelling outside the US together! Toronto was awesome, a cool city filled with great food that we’re both still thinking about.

We got to meet a lot of amazing people, some long-time friends and others brand new. We also picked up a lot of awesome games & new things to read~

(Seriously, we got a lot lol)

Nevyn ran 2 games of You’re In Space and 1.5 games of Justicar~ It’s easy to forget how fun your own games are, but every player was an absolute standout and each game had its own incredible highs!

We talked to so many brilliant people, and had some really great conversations that I’ll be thinking about for quite a while! Huge thanks to Breakout Con for inviting us to attend, and to everyone we got to talk to. Can’t wait to keep chatting, and we hope to go again next year :)

[nicklloydnow]

Michelle Manhart

“Was the American Revolution Radical?

Especially since the early 1950s, America has been concerned with opposing revolutions throughout the world; in the process, it has generated a historiography that denies its own revolutionary past. This neoconservative view of the American Revolution, echoing the reactionary writer in the pay of the Austrian and English governments of the early nineteenth century, Friedrich von Gentz, tries to isolate the American Revolution from all the revolutions in the western world that preceded it and followed it. The American Revolution, this view holds, was unique; it alone of all modern revolutions was not really revolutionary; instead, it was moderate, conservative, dedicated only to preserving existing institutions from British aggrandizement. Furthermore, like all else in America, it was marvelously harmonious and consensual. Unlike the wicked French and other revolutions in Europe, the American Revolution, then, did not upset or change anything. It was therefore not really a revolution at all; certainly, it was not radical.

Now this view, in the first place, displays an extreme naiveté on the nature of revolution. No revolution has ever sprung forth, fully blown and fully armed like Athena, from the brow of existing society; no revolution has ever emerged from a vacuum. No revolution has ever been born out of ideas alone, but only from a long chain of abuses and a long history of preparation, ideological and institutional. And no revolution, even the most radical, from the English Revolution of the seventeenth century to the many Third World revolutions of the twentieth, has ever come into being except in reaction to increased oppression by the existing State apparatus. All revolution is in that sense a reaction against worsening oppression; and in that sense, all revolutions may be called "conservative"; but that would make hash out of the meaning of ideological concepts. If the French and Russian revolutions may be called "conservative" then so might the American. This same process was at work in Bacon's Rebellion of the late seventeenth century and the American Revolution of the late eighteenth. As the Declaration of Independence (a good source for understanding the Revolution) rightly emphasized:

Prudence indeed will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations . . . evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government.

It takes such a long train of abuses to persuade the mass of people to throw off their habitual customs and loyalties and to make revolution; hence the absurdity of singling out the American Revolution as "conservative" in that sense. Indeed, this very breakthrough against existing habits, the very act of revolution, is therefore ipso facto an extraordinarily radical act. All mass revolutions, indeed all revolutions as distinguished from mere coup d'états, by bringing the masses into violent action are therefore per se highly radical events. All revolutions are therefore radical.

But the deep-seated radicalism of the American Revolution goes far beyond this. It was inextricably linked both to the radical revolutions that went before and to the ones, particularly the French, that succeeded it. From the researches of Caroline Robbins and Bernard Bailyn, we have come to see the indispensable linkage of radical ideology in a straight line from the English republican revolutionaries of the seventeenth century through the commonwealthmen of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, to the French and to the American revolutionaries. And this ideology of natural rights and individual liberty was to its very marrow revolutionary. As Lord Acton stressed of radical liberalism, in setting up "what ought to be" as a rigorous guidepost for judging "what is," it virtually raised thereby a standard of revolution.

The Americans had always been intractable, rebellious, impatient of oppression, as witness the numerous rebellions of the late seventeenth century; they also had their own individualist and libertarian heritage, their Ann Hutchinsons and Rhode Island quasi anarchists, some directly linked with the left wing of the English Revolution. Now, strengthened and guided by the developed libertarian natural rights ideology of the eighteenth century, and reacting to aggrandizement of the British imperial state in the economic, constitutional, and religious spheres, the Americans, in escalated and radicalized confrontations with Great Britain, had made and won their Revolution. By doing so, this revolution, based on the growing libertarian idea pervading enlightened opinion in Europe, itself gave immeasurable impetus to the liberal revolutionary movement throughout the Old World, for here was a living example of a liberal revolution that had taken its daring chance, against all odds and against the mightiest state in the world, and had actually succeeded. Here, indeed, was a beacon light to all the oppressed peoples of the world!

The American Revolution was radical in many other ways as well. It was the first successful war of national liberation against western imperialism. A people's war, waged by the majority of Americans having the courage and the zeal to rise up against constituted "legitimate" government, actually threw off their "sovereign." A revolutionary war led by "fanatics" and zealots rejected the siren calls of compromise and easy adjustment to the existing system. As a people's war, it was victorious to the extent that guerrilla strategy and tactics were employed against the far more heavily armed and better trained British army—a strategy and tactics of protracted conflict resting precisely on mass support. The tactics of harassment, mobility, surprise, and the wearing down and cutting off of supplies finally resulted in the encirclement of the enemy. Considering that the theory of guerrilla revolution had not yet been developed, it was remarkable that the Americans had the courage and initiative to employ it. As it was, all their victories were based on guerrilla-type concepts of revolutionary war, while all the American defeats came from stubborn insistence by such men as Washington on a conventional European type of open military confrontation.

Also, as in any people's war, the American Revolution did inevitably rend society in two. The Revolution was not a peaceful emanation of an American "consensus"; on the contrary, as we have seen, it was a civil war resulting in permanent expulsion of 100,000 Tories from the United States. Tories were hunted, persecuted, their property confiscated, and themselves sometimes killed; what could be more radical than that? Thus, the French Revolution was, as in so many other things, foreshadowed by the American. The inner contradiction of the goal of liberty and the struggle against the Tories during the Revolution showed that revolutions will be tempted to betray their own principles in the heat of battle. The American Revolution also prefigured the misguided use of paper money inflation, and of severe price and wage controls which proved equally unworkable in America and in France. And, as constituted government was either ignored or overthrown, Americans found recourse in new quasi-anarchistic forms of government: spontaneous local committees. In-deed, the new state and eventual federal governments often emerged out of federations and alliances of local and county committees. Here again, "committees of inspection," "committees of public safety," etc., prefigured the French and other revolutionary paths. What this meant, as was most clearly illustrated in Pennsylvania, was the revolutionary innovation of parallel institutions, of dual power, that challenged and eventually simply replaced old and established governmental forms. Nothing in all of this picture of the American Revolution could have been more radical, more truly revolutionary.

But, it may be claimed, this was after all only an external revolution; even if the American Revolution was radical, it was only a radicalism directed against Great Britain. There was no radical upheaval at home, no "internal revolution." Again, this view betrays a highly naive concept of revolution and of wars of national liberation. While the focus of the upheaval was, of course, Great Britain, the inevitable indirect consequence was radical change within the United States. In the first and most obvious place, the success of the revolution meant inevitably the overturn and displacement of the Tory elites, particularly of those internal oligarchs and members of governors' councils who had been created and propped up by the British government. The freeing of trade and manufacture from British imperial shackles again meant a displacement of Tory favorites from positions of economic privilege. The confiscation of Tory estates, especially in feudalism-ridden New York state, had a sharply democratizing and liberalizing effect on the structure of land tenure in the United States. This process was also greatly advanced by the inevitable dispossession of the vast British proprietary landed estates in Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina. The freakish acquisition of the territory west of the Appalachians by the peace treaty also opened vast quantities of virgin land to further liberalize the land structure, provided that the speculative land companies, as it increasingly appeared, would be kept at bay. Revolution also brought an inevitable upsurge of religious liberty with the freeing of many of the states, especially in the South, from the British-imposed Anglican establishment.

With these radical internal processes inevitably launched by the fact of revolution against Great Britain, it is also not surprising that this internal revolutionary course would go further. To the attack on feudalism was added a drive against the remnants of entail and primogeniture; from the ideology of individual liberty—and from British participation in the slave trade—came a general attack on that trade, and, in the North, a successful governmental drive against slavery itself.

Another inevitable corollary of the Revolution, and one easily over-looked, was that the very fact of revolution—aside from Connecticut and Rhode Island where no British government had existed before—necessarily dispossessed existing internal rule. Hence the sudden smashing of that rule inevitably threw government back into a fragmented, local, quasi-anarchistic form. When we consider also that the Revolution was consciously and radically directed against taxes and against central government power, the inevitable thrust of the Revolution for a radical transformation toward liberty becomes crystal clear. It is then not surprising that the thirteen revolted colonies were separate and decentralized, and that for several years even the separate state governments could not dare to impose taxes upon the populace. Furthermore, since royal control in the colonies had meant executive, judicial, and upper house control by royal appointees, the libertarian thrust of the Revolution was inevitably against these instruments of oligarchy and in favor of democratic forms responsive to, and easily checked by, the people. It is not a coincidence that the states where this type of internal revolution against oligarchy proceeded the furthest were the ones where the oligarchy was most reluctant to break with Great Britain. Hence, in Pennsylvania, the radical drive for independence meant that the reluctant oligarchy had to be pushed aside, and the process of that pushing led to the most liberal and most democratic constitution of all the states. (A highly liberal and democratic constitution also resulted from Vermont's necessity for rebelling internally against New York and New Hampshire's imperialism over Vermont's land.) On the other hand, Rhode Island and Connecticut, where no internal British rule existed, experienced no such internal cataclysm. Internal revolution was therefore a derivative of the external, but it happened nevertheless. Because of these inevitable internal libertarian effects, the drive for restoration of central government through taxation and mercantilism had to be a conscious and determined project on the part of conservatives a drive against the natural consequences of the Revolution.

Since the Revolution was a people's war, the extent of mass participation in the militia and committees led necessarily to a democratizing of suffrage in the new governments. Furthermore, the principle of "no taxation without representation" could readily be applied internally as could British restrictions upon the principle of one man, one vote. While recent researches have shown that colonial suffrage requirements were far more liberal than had been realized, it is still true that suffrage was significantly widened by the Revolution in half the states. This widening was helped everywhere by the depreciation of the monetary unit (and hence of existing property requirements) entailed by the inflation that helped finance the war. Chilton Williamson, the most thorough and judicious of recent historians of American suffrage, has concluded that

the Revolution probably operated to increase the size of that majority of adult males which had, generally speaking, been able to meet the old property and freehold tests before 1776. . . . The increase in the number of voters was probably not so significant as the fact that the Revolution had made explicit the basic idea that voting had little or nothing to do with real property and that this idea should be reflected accurately in the law. . . . The changes in suffrage made during the Revolution were the most important in the entire history of American suffrage reform. In retrospect it is clear that they committed the country to a democratic suffrage.

While many of the state constitutions, under the influence of conservative theorists, turned out to be conservative reactions against initial revolutionary conditions, the very act of making them was radical and revolutionary, for they meant that what the radical and Enlightenment thinkers had said was really true: men did not have to submit blindly to habit, to custom, to irrational "prescription." After violently throwing off their prescribed government, they could sit down and consciously make over their polity by the use of reason. Here was radicalism indeed. Furthermore, in the Bills of Rights, the framers added a significant and consciously libertarian attempt to prevent government from invading the natural rights of the individual, rights which they had learned about from the great English libertarian tradition of the past century.

For all these reasons, for its mass violence, and for its libertarian goals, the American Revolution was ineluctably radical. Not the least demonstration of its radicalism was the impact of this revolution in inspiring and generating the admittedly radical revolutions in Europe, an international impact that has been most thoroughly studied by Robert Palmer and Jacques Godechot. Palmer has eloquently summed up the meaning that the American Revolution had for Europe:

The American Revolution coincided with the climax of the Age of Enlightenment. It was itself, in some degree, the product of this age. There were many in Europe, as there were in America, who saw in the American Revolution a lesson and an encouragement for mankind. It proved that the liberal ideas of the Enlightenment might be put into practice. It showed, or was assumed to show, that ideas of the rights of man and the social contract, of liberty and equality, of responsible citizenship and popular sovereignty, of religious freedom, freedom of thought and speech, separation of powers and deliberately contrived written constitutions, need not remain in the realm of speculation, among the writers of books; but could be made the actual fabric of public life among real people, in this world, now.” - Murray Rothbard, ‘Conceived in Liberty, Volume IV: The Revolutionary War, 1775-1784’ (1975) [p. 441 - 446]

[grimgoregrimoire]

A Slice Of The Birthday Train-wreck

Characters & story by Izzy Gentz (me!)

Drabble sent in by @stargazer-sims

693 words

Trigger warnings: swearing, family problems, drug use mention, dark humor.

Notes:

Yes, I know a drabble is supposed to be 100 words, but I DO NOT CONTROL THE AMOUNT OF WORDS I WRITE!!!! Also, I know this drabble was supposed to be about "cake," but evidently, this is the story that wanted to be told... I mean, cake, birthday... That's not too much of a stretch, right?

Thank you again to everyone who sent me one of these, and thank you for your patience.

A Slice Of The Birthday Train-wreck

No-where-fucking-good, WA

November 2 2005

14:00

Parker

---------

Conner, I know you opened this 'cause you're always bitching about being the only one who checks the mail so do me a favor and just hand this to Courtney.

Dearest Courtney, YOU ARE A BITCH! I wish I never met you never mind let you talk me into going home for my birthday!!!!

Thanks to you I've had the worst three days of my life, and that's coming from someone who has been legally dead.

You know, shit was actually going okay and I was delusional enough to think this might be the first of twenty-three birthdays that wasn't pure shit.

You know, my dad picked me up from the train station, he didn't once remind me how much easier it would be if I still had my car.

When I got to the house my little brother wanted to draw with me, we watched cartoons for like three hours straight. My sisters didn't just ignore me the entire time we had dinner, my middle sister even said she liked my hair. My mom made a cake that I swear was probably the second best thing that's ever been in my mouth and I didn't wake up with a broken spine from the couch.

Even when I was going to leave this morning, my ice queen of a mother gave me a HUG for Christ's sake! She even packed me a huge slice of this triple chocolate orgasm for the train.

Speaking of, this tall, gorgeous, professor-looking dude sat right next to me at the train station. He started talking to me, I got annoyed 'cause he could clearly see my headphones but he talked smoothly so I got over it.

And when he told me to get up and follow him, I thought "Damn, this week can't get any better!"

He took me into the bathroom and told me to get on my knees, and when I did he slammed and locked the door in my face, and took off with my bag!

I jimmied the lock and found out he was nice enough to leave my ticket and slice of cake of all things.

Luckily the train showed up almost as soon as I came out of the bathroom, but the ride sober and without headphones was going to last an eternity!

At least, that's what I thought before the train broke down three hours into the trip!

Did you know trains could break down? I didn't even know trains could break down!

But all of a sudden the train stopped in the middle of nowhere and the power went out and someone had to come tell us it would be a few hours before we got rescued unless we could call someone to come pick us up but guess who doesn't have a fucking quarter.

So anyway, I'm stuffing my face with the only thing that has survived the Alanis Morissette song that is my life, this beautiful chocolate cake (which is in pieces btw), while I'm writing this, and the reason I'm writing this? 'Cause I'm assuming you'll get this around the same time they call you to come pick up my mangled corpse after I've finally had enough and laid across the tracks, and if not it will be amazing proof for me to NEVER TRUST COURTNEY EVER AGAIN!!!

Should this be the words I ever speak I leave a message to each of you;

Nate, you know the rule we made and you know all the hiding spots, I never made new ones. I know I said I did but I didn't so don't worry about it.

Conner, I know you've been waiting for this day since we met in high school, my only request is that you make the dance on my grave sick as fuck and not just the regular jig.

Aaron, as the baby daddy of our beanie baby, I leave you all twenty-seven dollars and ninety-six cents in my bank account. Make sure Beanie goes to a good college.

Courtney, I WILL SEE YOU IN HELL, YOU BOTTLE BLONDE BITCH!!!!!!

With love,

Parker W.

[mariacallous]

while I'm not optimistic that Gentz will manage to bring down the Government I wouldn't say its totally hopeless, the government is 64 seats, you need 61 for a majority, Bibi is in pretty much open war with his defense minister Yoav Gallant, so thats one vote down from his majority, so just a few more and Bibi is out

That’s what I was trying to allude to earlier

[josefavomjaaga]

L.Mühlbach, Duroc in Berlin

A short scene from a German 19th century author who wrote plenty of (rather lengthy) historical novels: Luise Mühlbach, »Louise of Prussia and her times«. I was astonished to find her works translated into English already, so this is just copied over from gutenberg.org. Duroc learns of the tradition of christmas presents and immediately wants to have one. (The story is reported by Friedrich Gentz to another character in the novel.)

[…] The queen told General Duroc of our German customs, and informed him that this was the day on which the Germans everywhere made presents to each other, and that gifts were laid under Christmas-trees, adorned with burning tapers. At that moment Duroc turned to the king, and said, with his intolerable French amiability: ‚Sire, if this is the day of universal presents in Germany, I believe I will be courageous enough today to ask your majesty for a present in the name of the first consul, General Bonaparte, if your majesty will permit me to do so.’ The king, of course, gave him the desired permission, and Duroc continued: ‘Sire, the present for which I am to ask your majesty, in the name of the first consul, is a bust of your great ancestor, Frederick the Second. The first consul recently examined the statues in the Diana Gallery at the Tuileries; there were the statues of Caesar and Brutus, of Coriolanus and Cicero, of Louis XIV. and Charles V., but the first consul did not see the statue of Frederick the Great, and he deems the collection of the heroes of ancient and modern times incomplete as long as it does not embrace the name of Frederick the Great. Sire, I take the liberty, therefore, to ask you, in the name of France, for a bust of Frederick the Great!’

[Footnote: Historical.]

The request of course endeared Duroc to the Prussian court even more. I like the scene mostly because it shows how different customs were at the time in different regions.

[imbackonmy-bullshit]

OMG GENTZ YOU ABSOLUTE BABE

[hzaidan]

20 Paintings by 19th Century Swiss, German and French Orientalist Artists, with foot notes #6

Philippe-Jacques van Bree, Gentile Bellini, Jean-Baptiste Henri Durand-Brager, Jean-Leon Gerome, Frederik-Jan-Pieter Portielje, Emile Régnault de Maulmain, Georges Washington, Henri Rousseau, Jules-Pierre van Biesbroeck, George Derville Rowlandson, Emmanuel Dieudonné, Karl Wilhelm Gentz…

Please follow link for full post

Gentile Bellini,Maulmain,Islamic Art,Henri Rousseau,Durand,Jean-Leon Gerome,Portielje,Philippe-Jacques van Bree,Orientalists,GEORGES WASHINGTON,

Orientalist #footnotes #Zaidan #Mythology #Religion #biography #Paintings #Art #History #Artists #paintings #fineart #footnotes

[count-lero]

That feel when you accidentally spent a lot of time on something and it still has so much flaws that you want to scream but whatever.

We’ll get ‘em next time! ✊

Meanwhile, we’re stuck here with these two spectacular bit… ahem… Herren roasting each other every morning, night and day until their dying breathes (spoiler: alas, Gentz lost in this game prematurely).

[9sr3lii]

A Snake Charmer - Medinet Habu, Thebes 1872 Karl Wilhelm Gentz - German, 1822-1890

[fantasywriter19]

1. Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone Ch.9 The Train to Hogwarts

An alarm clock rang in my ear the next morning, causing me to moan and open my eyes a crack to look around for where it was. My mom was holding the darned thing, with one hand on her hip.

I sat up, grumbling, "Now I know for a fact that I do not have an alarm clock."

"Your grandfather gave it to me for you after I came back last night," she said with a barely-suppressed eye roll. She seemed annoyed, and yet she had never done such a childish action before. Like just being here also changed her whole attitude. She put the alarm clock in my trunk and, closing it, added, “He already put a few candles in there so you can ‘read late at night if you want.'

"He left earlier this morning after getting an emergency owl that a first year broke his wand after having it for his first month. So, he gave me his apologies for not helping in seeing you off." Mom looked at me a moment as I lay there rubbing my eyes to wake up, and her eyes teared up, “I can’t believe you’re already going.”

“Oh, mom, please don’t do that,” I moaned as she engulfed me in a shaky hug. “I’m only gone a little longer than the first time I stayed there. I’ll be back for Christmas… right?”

“I know, I know— oh, just get yourself ready, already!” she let go, covering her face as she sped out.

I sighed, where was that when you were pregnant and gave me to Professor Dumbledore for two months? I got ready quickly, dressing in blue jeans and a black tank top before dragging my trunk out of my room and downstairs. Mom had gotten the cauldron in it somehow. It had to be magic since there was no other way it would fit… all I knew was it was one of many spells I couldn’t wait to learn myself. Bedouin was in his cage in mom’s arms.

"Ready to go?" she asked, now overly perky. Her eyes were slightly puffy, but otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to tell that she had been emotional.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." I said, almost resignedly considering how tired I was, and followed her out front. I hadn't left the house in a whole month, so seeing she had a car caused me to need to step back a moment. She’s not going to just Apparate and Disapparate there? Well, no complaints here, this is much simpler to me. Putting the cage and trunk in the backseat, I sat in the front with mom and asked, "Why take a train when there's Apparition?"

"The school thought it would be easier so that there weren't any high probabilities of splinches, and being later than should be allowed."

"Splinches? What's that?" I asked, the word itself sounding like a warning.

”You need to really concentrate on where you want to go when Apparating. So, most people doing it for their first time splinch themselves because they aren't properly concentrating. Splinching is when you Apparate, but you've left part of your body behind at the place you Disapparated from." Mom seemed to look back on a memory with her latter sentence, and shivered in disgust.

I thought about how that could work. It just didn't seem probable to be able to leave a body part behind. “It sounds painful… but how do they get the part back?" I asked.

"Skilled witches and wizards have their ways — they have nurses too, you know. That's why you learn at school first."

"When do students learn how to Disapparate?" I asked.

"When you turn seventeen."

“Sounds like it’s as important as getting a driver’s license,” I said, uncertain about whether or not I even wanted to learn it when just the thought of it made me queasy.

For a while after that, mom drove in silence. The suspense of my curiosity over the previous night bothered the living heck out of me, so considering I didn’t want to spend the whole day on the train wondering about it, I eventually caved.

“Did you find Professor Quirrell last night?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the distraction of the practically open road before her, cars on either side of us after she’d taken a road onto a highway, but she didn’t give me any run-around answers. “I did. We had a nice chat at the Three Broomsticks, I had almost forgotten to pay attention to the time. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, we just… reminisced.”

“That must have been nice…” I said, struggling to keep some bitterness out of my voice. What would have been nice was more answers than you were willing to give before you ran off to see him. “Did his stutter bother you at all?”

“It was admittedly worrisome, our conversation started out with his incessant stutters. He explained that he took a year sabbatical from teaching — he apparently used to be the Muggle Studies professor, imagine my surprise — and regaled me with the tale of his adventure around the world.”

“You make it sound like it was fun for him… and yet that it’s also the reason he stutters now..” I admitted, confused.

“Oh, I don’t know if he’ll continue stuttering,” she stated confidently. “His stutters slowly went away the longer we talked last night. It was almost like old times. Oh, he explained how traumatized he’d been by the vampires in the Black Forest and some hag in Albania, but I reminded him that we’d done worse.”

“Worse?” I asked. “He’s done worse with you, but got scared of that? I thought you told me he was a coward?”

“Don’t get me wrong, he most certainly was a coward. I like to think I helped him have loads of adventures to prepare him for that trip. It might have just been harder because he was alone that whole time…. Anyway, not to worry, the stutters are over.”

Though something in me doubted it, I couldn’t think about it much more because the train station was now in view. "Do you have my ticket?" I asked instead.

"Oh, yes, right here!" she dug in her pocket and took out the train ticket.

Taking it, I looked at where I would go. I was confused instantly. "Platform nine and three-quarters?! There is a platform nine and three-quarters? I highly doubt this. Who names a platform with a fraction?”

"Yes there is, don't worry about it. That's why I'm here, I'll lead you to it!" mom said with an ecstatic smile.

”I hope you're right,” I muttered, looking it over. It looked valid, but I still figured that there could be no such thing as a platform nine and three-quarters. That would be somewhere between the platforms nine and ten, of course — unless there is a nine, but no ten — and there wouldn’t be anything there! No station is going to put such an odd number in. Imagining a platform seven and a half or a two and a quarter just seemed impractical on the station’s part.

Mom parked the car and we took out my luggage. She carried my trunk while I carried Bedouin's cage. Since he was fast asleep, I wondered if he still would be for much longer once we got into the station with the loud chatter of hundreds of people and the whistles and rumbling of the trains.

Once in the station, we put my things on a cart — or a trolley, as mom named it — and wheeled it through the platforms. When we got to platforms nine and ten, I knew I had reason to be dubious, but mom just smiled.

She faced the wall between nine and ten and beckoned me over. When I came, she stood beside me and put both hands on my shoulder. "Now, we run towards the wall and then we'll appear on the other side. The train is there."

"Are you crazy?!" I asked, looking at it. "If we do have to go through there, wouldn't it be better to walk — you know, in case it doesn’t work, for whatever reason?"

"No, it's better to do it at a run, because if any Muggle is watching then they'd see us walk toward it and disappear. When you do that, they see you run but they don't really see where you disappear to.”

Clearly she knew much more than I did, as she grew up in the wizarding world, but I was still very much concerned about crashing. She already knew what was bothering me. "Don't worry, you have a half an hour until the train leaves. The barrier won't block you out until then."

"Okay," I said slowly, bracing myself.

"Now… go!" mom whispered in my ear, still holding on to my shoulders. We took off at a run. I stared right at the wall, feeling like it was being hurtled at me. But then, we went right through it and there was the scarlet train. A sign above the packed crowd said ‘Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock.'

I heaved out a sigh — the very breath I'd been holding in when running at the barrier. Looking behind me, there was a wrought iron archway where we had run from that said ‘Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.’

"See?" mom said with a smile.

"Well, no need to brag about being right. Of course you were, you've done this before probably about seven times. And I'm just a silly new first year,” I said, looking at everything and everyone around me. I even peeked in Bedouin’s cage to find him… amazingly still asleep.

“Hey! Hey, Melody!” I heard three people shout… and then for bicker.

Turning around I saw Becky, Addy, and Draco. Draco and Becky stared each other down with some contempt, seemingly arguing, though I couldn’t tell what about.

“Hey… what's going on?" I asked.

“Well,” Addy told me, “Draco overheard us saying we were looking for you. Since he said he’d wait with us for you… er.. now he and Becky are fighting about absolutely nothing.”

"We are not fighting, we are having a conversation about first years and broomsticks,” Becky snapped, then returned her gaze to Draco. "Seriously, it's for the best that first years don't get broomsticks. We learn how to fly our first year and, that way, we don't have to worry about any first years getting hurt in their first Quidditch match."

"Not if they've been flying for years!" Draco retorted.

“Well, you feel that way, you feel that way. You’re always entitled to your opinion,” Addy said amicably.

“Thank you!” Draco responded.

"Someone has got to teach me about Quidditch,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying, shaking my head. For the life of me, I wanted to understand what the sport was about. I was hoping to find it better than Muggle sports — such boring games.

Draco, Addy, and Becky looked at me with shock. They couldn't believe that I had just said that. I took it that even though the girls knew I hadn’t known about the wizarding world for very long, they must’ve assumed my mom would tell me about Quidditch.

"What?!" I asked, attempting not to feel unnerved by Draco’s wide eyes. After a month holed up with all the coursebooks, it just seemed to me that if I was going to be friends with this boy, he had to find out sooner or later that I was still figuring this world out. And what better than to give some part of the truth?

"I thought you told me you were against Muggles!" Draco said accusingly. "If you aren’t one, then how do you not know about Quidditch?”

I could see mom give a look at me out of the corner of my eye, but she thankfully didn’t say anything.

"I am… it's just I didn't know about it until May." I said, glaring at mom for emphasis.

With a turn, mom let out a cough where I could hear hidden within it, “Don’tcare! — Oh, excuse me.”

“Oh…… I should tell you all about it then! Here, let me show you which compartment I'm in,” Draco said, instantly setting off in search for his spot on the train. It’s worrisome how different he seemed to act toward me in assuming I had to be Muggleborn.

Even Addy and Becky looked at me with short glances at each other, not moving.

I sighed, grateful Draco was out of earshot, “My mom told me to make friends, and he was the first one I came across in Diagon Alley so I went with it. I don’t have anything against Muggleborns.”

Mom’s grumbles of, “Blame me, does she..” as she walked away were accompanied by the girls’ understanding giggles.

“I’ve got to tell you, that’s a relief…. Well, he’s welcomed us into his compartment, but he doesn't like Becky very much,” Addy said, causing Becky to harrumph.

“Well obviously it’s because you talk back to him, Becky,” I observed, to her piqued interest. “I should suppose that he doesn't like that. Addy and I let him think what he desires while you attack and question him. That’s all.”

Becky smiled maliciously. "Ooh, I shall have some fun with him then." She rubbed her hands together, looking evil in that second until Draco came back to us wondering why we hadn’t followed. She then quickly threw her hands behind her back.

⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛

“I will miss you, mom,” I reassured her, about five minutes before the train was supposed to be setting off.

“I’ll miss you, too, sweetheart," she said, tears in her eyes. "I can't believe how soon this happened."

"I'll be back home before you know it,” I said, hoping her tears wouldn't start falling again.

"Don't mind me, I'm just being sentimental!" she said, hugging me tightly.

"Well, don't keep hold of me for too long or I'll miss the train and have to stay with you until next year,” I said jokingly, causing mom to let go of me with a little laugh.

"All right, all right, I love you Honey. See you at Christmas!" she said.

I jumped onto the train, turning to her with a wide wave, "See you then!”

I made my way to my compartment where two… large first years were putting trunks and pet cages, including my own, in the above trunk holders. “Uh.. thank you,” I said to them.

"Oh, no need. I had them put it up there." Draco said, sitting by the window, and the two sat down next to him. Addy and Becky were sitting across from them, looking at the bigger boys with a sense of insecurity.

Like bulky bodyguards, I thought to myself as I took my seat — across from Draco and next to the window — next to Addy. "Ok then, I guess I'll thank you, too." Be agreeable, that's what this boy prefers in friends. I can do that.

Draco smiled and then set off instantly on the rules of Quidditch just as the train started moving. The concept was ‘simple.’ There were seven players. One seeker, one keeper, two beaters, and three chasers on each team; and they all had very important parts in the game. Just as he started to tell me about what each player did, his 'bodyguards' stood up.

"What is it?" Draco asked them sharply.

"You said you wanted to go look around the train,” one of them with short, bristly hair said, shrugging his shoulders dully. “Soon as the train left the station, you said.”

“Oh, right," he said, only mildly disappointed as he stood up. To me he said, "I'll tell you more later." He walked right out with his two bodyguards following close behind.

"How on Earth did he get them to follow him around?" I asked aloud.

"I don't know… but they aren't very smart, are they?” Becky noted, looking at the door warily, as if they might come back in. “They could easily snap that cretin in half if they wanted to. Instead they listen to everything he tells them.”

I hummed in thought. "Do they even have names?"

"Oh yes, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle,” Addy said. "But Malfoy just calls them Crabbe and Goyle.”

"Just like how you're only calling him Malfoy." I replied. What is the point in calling people by their last names? Even mom called Professor Snape ‘Snape,’ and they used to know each other.

“Right,” she said matter-of-factly.

At that, we started hearing a great clattering outside in the corridor. Moments after, a small, dimpled witch showed up at the door asking, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

All three of us stood up and looked over what she had. I saw a lot of different kinds of candy, all of which had been in that candy store the twins took me to. Maybe this woman works there, too, I thought.

When the twins snuck me into Honeydukes, I had decided on a Pumpkin Pasty which, though I hadn’t had high expectations, it had actually been a decent treat. To try something new this time I picked up a Chocolate Frog, paid the woman for it, and went back to my seat by the window.

Becky came back with a couple Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes, whereas Addy grabbed Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and a couple Licorice Wands.

"Are these really different from Muggle candies?" Becky asked as I carefully opened my Chocolate Frog.

“Mostly yeah. They’re nothing magical, but they're still candy. Still sweet as life.”

“Becky just can’t seem to believe that I took a dare from my brothers where I had to spend one day in the Muggle world,” Addy said, popping a gum in her mouth with satisfaction. "I got a couple candies from a candy shop, and they are sweet. But I noticed that, with the gum, they don't make very large bubbles before popping and they run out of flavor really fast.”

“That’s one good example,” I said, finally pulling the Chocolate Frog out of the package. It squirmed in my hand like a real frog. “This is another example. If they made a chocolate frog in the Muggle world, it wouldn’t be able to move like a real frog. It’ll stay inanimate.” I took a bite out of the frog, happy that it stopped wriggling after I did so. I looked back at the box to see if they put ingredients on the label like in the Muggle world, but got distracted as something inside the box caught my eye. I pulled out a card.

"Ooh, which card did you get?" Becky asked me excitedly.

”Salazar Slytherin…" I said, reading the name. Slytherin as in the House? But not only was there a name, there was a picture of him too. He wore all black, a piercing stare, two rings (one on his index and the other on his pinkie), a pendant around his neck, was bald, bushy eyebrows, and was stroking his gray beard. He looked sort of… monkey-like.

“Wow… he is not very good looking, is he?" Becky said, "Read the back."

I turned the card over and read aloud:

Salazar Slytherin

Medieval

(precise dates unknown)

One of the four celebrated

Founders of Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wizardry,

Salazar Slytherin was one of the first recorded

Parselmouths, an accomplished

Legilimens, and a notorious

champion of

Pureblood supremacy.

I read that to myself again and again, not believing my eyes. He was an accomplished Legilimens… I remembered Professor Snape saying that as a spell to get into my head. I wondered, out of all the cards there must possibly be… how ironic is it that I got this one? How ironic when my own dad was also in this House?

“That’s so cool," Addy said enviously. "I have so many copies of Morgan Le Fay, it’s not even funny. It’s like hers is the only one I can pull…. You got one of the Founders of Hogwarts.”

"Yeah, the ugly but accomplished one,” Becky remarked.

I chuckled, "Right."

"Hey, speaking of House. Which one do you think you're going to be in?" Addy asked me…. The deadpanned look on her face when Becky answered her first made me laugh.

"I'm not quite sure," Becky said thoughtfully. "Both of my parents were in Ravenclaw, so I’ll probably just end up there. Even my brother is in Ravenclaw. If I don't make it into that House, he'll send a letter to my parents to begin the shaming. What about you?"

Addy stared at Becky with her expression unchanged, and Becky stared back as though oblivious to her annoyance. Instead of arguing it, Addy shrugged as she answered, “My dad was in Gryffindor and my mum was in Ravenclaw. It doesn't matter to me where I go, really. What about you, Melody?"

"My mom was in Ravenclaw… and she says my dad was in Slytherin. I don't know, I might end up in Ravenclaw. I enjoy reading — I read all the books we have for the year just this past month,” I said, causing both girls to look at me wide-eyed. “What? Is that too excessive?”

"I did, too! I have the course books learned by heart!" a voice exclaimed from the hallway.

We turned to see a girl with bushy brown hair, some rather large front teeth, and she was already wearing her school robes. I hadn't even heard the compartment door open.

"Oh right," she said as if realizing something very important. "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

"We haven't seen any toads in here," I said. "But did you say you memorized the book? I didn’t even do that. When I read, I find a way to explain myself so I have it in my own words.” It was at that very moment I felt disgusted with myself for showing the girl up as an even better know-it-all. I bit my tongue to keep from saying more. Ravenclaw, indeed.

“Oh, well," she said, without a care to give. "Have you tried any spells yet?"

“I couldn’t do one at home, obviously, but I could try one now. Is it okay for us to do it on the train?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I've done a few and they've all worked for me!" she proclaimed. "Well, let's see what you can do."

"Are you making another new friend?" Addy asked me. "Boy, you're popular!”

The sense of humor on this girl, I thought sarcastically, giving her a fake laugh. I took my wand out of my pocket, stood on my seat and reached into my trunk to pull out the alarm clock. When I sat back down, I placed it on the floor in front of me. "The severing charm… Diffindo!" waving my wand — the way I’d endlessly practiced — at the alarm clock, it splintered into many pieces. I felt my heart leap. "Now the mending charm… Reparo!" The clock was then swiftly brought back together, good as new.

The girl clapped her hands approvingly, "That's incredible!" Then she held her hand out to me, "I'm Hermione Granger."

I took her hand and shook it, "Melody Riddle, nice to meet you."

She walked back to the door, "I better keep looking for Neville's toad, but I'll see you later. Oh, and you best put your school robes on. I think we're very nearly there." She was gone as quickly as she’d appeared.

”She's fairly bossy, isn't she?" Becky asked.

"Sure seemed that way,” Addy replied, blowing a large bubble with her gum that popped across her face. We chuckled as she groaned and began pulling the substance away from her cheeks.

“Great,” I said grimly, placing the alarm clock back into my trunk. “If we get into Ravenclaw, she will probably be there, too.”

“That’s the downside of most Ravenclaws. Being stuck up about knowing everything,” Becky sighed. “Why’d you bring an alarm clock anyways?"

"My grandpa gave it to me,” I said. "Don't know what made him do that. He even gave me candles in case I wanted to read late at night.… Of course, maybe he’s expecting me to be a Ravenclaw just as much as he and mom were.”

“Well,” Addy rolled her eyes, managing to pull more strings of gum from her face, “let's get into our robes before that girl comes back and asks why we didn't follow her instructions.”

I laughed, standing to get to my trunk and taking out my robes. I put them on, actually finding them quite comfortable over my regular clothes. I sat back down again and looked out the window, thinking we probably still had many hours to go.

Sometime later, Draco came back with Vincent and Greg. One of the boys' hands was red from dried blood and I jumped to my feet when I saw it.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We went to Potter's compartment and some disgusting rodent bit Goyle,” Draco panted.

Ah, so it is Greg's hand. Good to know who's who now. I took my wand out and walked over to Greg. His hand wasn't bleeding as freely as it must have when the incident happened, but I could see the dried spots.

I raised my eyebrow at him as a question to help him and he hesitantly gave me his bleeding hand. Pointing my wand at it, I softly said, "Tergeo." I watched in fascination as the blood washed away, and then went to my trunk to take out a small bandage. It was simple then to stick it over the small wound on his knuckle.

"How do you know that spell?" Draco asked, starry-eyed.

”My mom decided over the past month that I needed to know a little healing should something come up and there's no teacher around." I said. "So she taught me the spell for cleaning pretty much anything— which, of course, includes blood."

"Melody, you really ought to be in Ravenclaw like your mum!" Addy said admiringly, "You already know so much."

"Your mother was in Ravenclaw?" Draco asked. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, because in Diagon Alley, I didn't know either. Well, you were rambling on about your certainty on getting into Slytherin anyways,” I said, with a nod from Draco. "Except it seemed your parents knew her very well. Perhaps because my dad was in Slytherin."

He looked up in surprise. "My parents knew her? How are you so sure about that?"

"Back in Madam Malkin's," I said, realizing once again that he hadn't paid much attention to what had happened between the adults. "Your parents and my mom had a short conversation, and they looked slightly surprised to see her. They knew each other.”

"You're very observant,” Becky commented.

Just then, a voice echoed all throughout the train, ”We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."

"Wait, so I even leave my cat here?" I asked, looking up at a wide-eyed Bedouin looking around the compartment from his cage.

"Yeah," Becky said. "They'll be in our rooms when we get to them. No worries. Addy and I are leaving our cats here, too, so none of them will be lonely. Your cat will be fine."

"You guys also got cats?" I asked, looking up at where Bedouin's cage was. Next to him was a cage with another black cat, and the other cage housed a tabby cat.

"All right, then,” I relented, as the train slowed to a stop.

We all pushed our way out onto the tiny, dark platform. The night air was cold, but I didn't pay much heed to it because Addy and Becky sidled up next to me in a warm huddle.

We stayed in this form even as a lamp came bobbing over everyone's heads, and a voice shouted, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

I saw the same large man I had seen in Diagon Alley, and there was that same boy up in the front that had been walking with him that day.

"Potter,” Draco whispered to us in disgust.

“Right, your visit to his compartment didn’t go over well,” I noted.

“He’s made both the wrong friend and wrong enemy,” he replied softly.

I could only stare at him, “Overdramatic much?”

"C'mon, follow me —” the man said, “any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!"

"Hagrid is such an overgrown oaf,” Draco said with a chuckle.

Taking context clues from how Draco addressed most people, I guessed that Hagrid was the man’s surname. ”What is Mr. Hagrid in charge of besides taking the first years to the castle?" I asked.

Everyone had looked at me strangely, but Draco answered me gladly. ”I heard he's the gamekeeper. Some savage servant living in a hut on the school grounds, every now and then getting drunk and trying to use magic, mostly just setting fire to his bed.”

“How do you know all that?” I asked curiously.

“My father’s on the Board of Governors here at Hogwarts,” he said. “He knows everything that happens here. And that gameskeeper is a constant problem.”

I turned my face as my mouth automatically set into a thin line. Of course his father is…

We all stopped talking as we followed Mr. Hagrid down the steep, narrow path.. or what seemed to be since there was only darkness on either side of us.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Mr. Hagrid called over his shoulder at us, "Jus' round this bend here."

There were sudden exclamations of “Oooooh!” as we all turned the corner.

I had already seen the castle before, but it looked so much prettier with the night sky surrounding it and having the lights in the castle on to twinkle in the moonlight.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Mr. Hagrid shouted out, pointing to a cluster of little boats just sitting still in the water by the shore. The boys all went into one boat so Becky, Addy, and I jumped in another followed by some girl with a hard face and short black hair.

Mr. Hagrid was on a boat by himself when he called out, "Everyone in? Right then — forward!"

As the boats moved forward, everyone just stared at the castle before them. I, on the other hand, was looking into the water at the reflection of the moon. The water looked like a hard surface when I placed my attention on the wide spaces that didn't have any boats.

"Heads down!" I heard Mr. Hagrid yell.

Looking up, the first few boats had reached the cliff and the students in them bowed their heads down. After it was time for us to duck, we were all carried along a dark tunnel, seemingly taking us down underneath the castle until reaching an underground harbor where we all got out of the boats onto a ground of rocks and pebbles.

Mr. Hagrid checked each of the boats, and then called out to a round-faced boy, "Oy, you there! Is this yer toad?"

"Trevor!" the boy cried happily. That must be Neville, I thought.

Then Mr. Hagrid led the way up a passageway until we came out onto smooth, damp grass that lay within the shadows of the tall castle. Addy sighed contentedly… she clearly hadn't liked clambering up the passageway. Meanwhile, Becky was smiling excitedly.

We then walked up a flight of stone steps, crowding around the huge, oak front door of the school.

"Everyone here?" Mr. Hagrid asked, then looking back at Neville. "You there, still got yer toad?" Then he knocked on the door three times.

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[educationaldm]

I've actually always found running TTPRGs for Kids far easier, whether they are children or teenagers, far easier than running them for adults.

[missfinefeather]

They already accepted you earlier in the episode xD

Funny thing though, there's a similiar scene in the books where Gentz is telling Fina and Shuri that he's going to be their father. He actually brings up Yuna at this moment.