Snidgets [6th and 7th years]

[Isadora Polyxena]

ooc// sixth and seventh years only please.

Professor Isadora C. Polyxena wrote away at her writing desk, obviously trying to rush. A number of words and sentences were already crossed out. It made quite an interesting parchement, with the half the page crossed out and a cross diagram of some sort of fluffy golden ball with silver wings. Away the Professor wrote, her dark brown hair streaked with blonde bent low over the paper, her hand splattered with ink drops. Finally a large black cat jumped up on the desk and proceeded to swat at the top of the quil. Irritation crossed the pretty face of Isadora as she glanced up, seeing the clock that pointed to five minutes past her class. "Bloody Hell!" Jumping up the woman knocked over the chair she had been sitting on and raced out the door leading to the grounds. As Head of Gryffindor House it would be terrible being late for class, especially since the students were sixth and seventh yers, quite old enough to spread malicent gossip about their teachers.

Isadora ran quickly out to her 'classroom', her flowing black robes flying behind her. Which for her meant a ring of boulders. It was just way to hard to bring Magical Creatures inside. With a grimace she noticed there were quite a few students already sitting on boulders, their books out, chatting away to their neighbors. As she came closer Isadora slowed from her run into a quick walk, a pleasant smile on her mouth, but her light blue eyes still worried. The professor stepped onto a flat boulder at the edge of the half circle, looking at all of her students. All were familiar faces. With a big smile she greeted them, realizing that even with the boulder's help she probably only came up to most of their shoulders at only 5'1". "Hi everyone! It's nice to see you again. I hope you all had a good summer? Good. Today we're doing something a bit fun. All of you Quidditch players should know what these are." Stepping off her rock the slim figured teacher strode back two paces to where a large cage stood, covered by a black cloth. With a sweep of her hand she withdrew the curtain, revelaing the same creature she had cross-sectioned in her notes. Only five flew around in the cage, their golden feathers flashing and silver wings fluttering. They were the predecessors of the Golden Snitch, snidgets. "Does anyone know what these are?"

ooc//still getting used to her, sorry.

[Tristen Wilcox]

[It's my sick and twisted]
GYPSYCURSE
.x. .x.
M E L I A
[She can swallow knives, She can swallow LIVES]

Her sleak body fell across the grass, althoguh she'd vowed never to do this she was alreasy late and if she had one more detention she'd basically break underthe stress of it all. With the bolders in view her body popped out of the shiney black scales as the slithered through the grass into a seventeen year old. Her black hair followed her quick strides as she shifted onto a rock furthest away taking out her books but also a piece of partchment that she needed to complete. Her quill smoothly formed each letter; Can't get away then her rather elaborite signature 'Gypsy Woman' scrawled elegantly over the bottom. She changed her font hand whenever she wrote during class preferring her left hand to write long notes, right for letters from Gypsy. Eyes glanced up at the professor before falling back to her nails. They shone with a scaley black from a transfiguration spell that had cast all others apart; changing colours of body parts.

Sometimes Melia thought it would have been easier to be a metamophamagi yet she'd never say that outloud. In fact she'd never say anything outloud, many people concluded her as a mute or a stubborn person who refused to use her tongue. Those people were wrong, she used it alright with her mistress and singing her songs. She'd already charmed the parchment with her voice singing the words and her hand made music; Muggle style. She'd thought about her reciever and concluded her hatred should go toward one of the Griffindors. Tucking the now blackening partchment into her pocket she tried her innocent smile and nodded carefully, she hadn't been listening at all and if there was one thing she'd learnt is that nodding usually got you somewhere and the teachers wouldn't ask her questions because she would never answer and writing it down would take too long.

Reeling through face after face of Griffindors she picked a handful and smiled. Once they saw the black partchment fall from the grasp of one of her Uncle's birds they would have a look on their face unlike any other, the bright silver words Can't get away would ring out across the hall in a new composition while her signature in gold always had the same ring as usual. Blinking her heavily lined eyes impatiently she ran through some songs through her mind although didn't have a clue what her next masterpiece would be, she'd have to see Frae about that. Her Royal Iceness as Melia liked to say although her words were simple each time and rather explicitly ran into Mistress, Lady or something polite. In fact next time they walked into the hall shed set something that would send a loud music across the hall. Frae liked to think she ruled to school, she was probably right. Well from a ravenclaw who begged to change into a slytherin's perspective although the slytherins would agree.

Her left hand twisted a rather different type of font across the front of her book in a deep shining black ink before it fell into the paper and left a dull very dark grey. Her name was something she'd given up on already everyone always said it wrong, yet she'd never corrected anyone. They all said Mel-ee-a, they were total idiots who didn't think like death eaters, it had nothing to do with that of course but the simple explaination was in fact Mel-ya. A simple way to remember everything was calling her Mel it kept things short and sweet. Actually she had no idea if she'd had this teacher last year she hardly payed attention in any class and rarley did her homework unless it was somethign she could do in the morning of that lesson. Her eyes looked up for perhaps the first time today but recioled back down now showing a heavily shadow colour over her lids. Of course imperfections were never avoidable but they could be distracted.

S T E I G A R
[But you can’t go with her, The Gypsy Woman.]

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