| Details for Probably a Prodigy |
| Summary: | A musical interlude in the greenhouse turns into a minor charms catastrophe! |
| Date: | September 16, 1937 |
| Location: | Greenhouse, Hogwarts |
| Related: | None |
| Characters |
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Finally, things have dried up around Hogwarts and the ever present rain has gone to shed its tears elsewhere. In its wake there's heat, and in the greenhouses, it's even hotter. That's just how the plants like it, especially those tropical ones that thrive in the warm humidity. Here in the second greenhouse, there are no classes being held, though there is at least one student present among the rows of plants and tall foliage. Kiefer has stripped himself of his Hogwarts robe, and usual school clothing has been traded in for overalls that look way past due for replacing, with a dingy cotton shirt beneath. Unruly hair has been tied back in a sorry excuse of a ponytail with clumps of hair having long ago escaped. But despite his farmish appearance and the rather neat looking rows of tended to plants that hint that he's /done/ some work in here, he's not doing any more of it. Instead, music can be heard drifting from the glass walls. The source? Kiefer, standing near a row of Venus flytrap looking plans, playing his violin. Mozart's Concerto No. 5, if one is so musically knowledgeable. Happy sounding. And those plants? Swaying. Well, all except one.
There's no classes for a while yet, but that doesn't stop the door from opening. It closes after just a moment, but there's someone else in the greenhouse now. It's hard to see who at first - tall plants will do that - but there are gaps here and there, and glimpses can be had of Phoebe, robeless but otherwise more-or-less uniformed. She pauses to peer around the end of one of the rows, looking at Kiefer. Hmm. She watches for a moment, then continues on toward him. Well, not quite toward him, but close enough.
Kiefer has his eyes on that one not swaying plant. That one stubborn plant that looks just a little smaller than its flytrap-like brethren. The sullen…downcast…somber looking..— The song comes to a sudden stop in the middle of an unseen measure, causing the movements of the plants to become a bit jerkish as they stop. "For cripes sake.." he points his bow in the direction of the downcast 'trap. "I know what you want, and you're not getting it. Nothing in minor. Not /today/. Look what it's done to you, and don't argue. How're we ever going to use you in calming draughts if you don't mature? You don't want to be the runt of the batch forever, do you?" The plant isn't speaking up, truth be told, but Kiefer continues to glare anyway…til he gets a feeling that his eyes aren't the only pair of eyes looking anymore. Blinking, he glances left, spotting a familiar (sort of) younger face not far off. He lowers his bow. "You don't need help on your Herbology project too, do you?"
Phoebe listens in. How could she not? It's a conversation. They're for listening in on. There's a grin that spreads across her face as she does, until it abruptly disappears as the fifth year turns his attention on her. "Oh, me? Nope." She skips up the rest of the way, and see? She wasn't going to him after all, though there's a little cool breeze as she passes near. She was going one row over, to the yellow-spotted pitcher plant type things. "See? It's fine!" she says as she points to one of them, about middling in size.
"Ah, grand to hear that," Kiefer says with a sigh as she assures she's not here to mooch from him. "I don't mind helping, but I can't help everyone, and now it seems as if everyone is needing help since my offer to help one other." He watches her skip past, brows perking a little as…was that cool air he felt? Definitely was! Like a breath of autumn and now it's sadly gone. With violin in tow, he follows her, partially to see her project and partially to figure out where that breeze came from. "Oh. Oh yes, that looks good!" he agrees, moving closer to examine the plant with a grin. "Got to love the carnivorous ones. They're so interesting! Like the Traps over there. Nice job," he says upon straightening. "Now, on to business. Was that coolness coming from you?"
Phoebe laughs. "Well, not unless you taught a class." Hurm. "Four classes, really." One for each year before his, you see. "Or maybe five." So as to help out the others in his own year who are struggling, you see. "So maybe not." She grins, and takes a moment to peer down at the plant and check it. Carnivorous plants? "Yeah, better than yarrow and thyme for sure," she agrees. Yep, the soil's the right amount of moist, and it has the correct rotten-flesh scent. …and, yep, now that Kiefer's following her, there's that breath of cool air again. It's a nice change from the hot and humid greenhouse. "Thanks," she says, then ohs. "Coolness…" Aw, did a fifth year just call her cool? Oh, wait, not like that. "Y'mean, my Notus Frigori?"
Kiefer laughs and gives his head a grand shake. "One thing I definitely for seriously sure I am not ever going to be is a professor," he vows, and with such gusto! "Too many questions asked. It'd bother me to say the same thing over and over and over.." he says, moving away a bit to set his violin down in its velvet casing, securing the bow afterward. "Year after year, the same." He brushes his hands off on the side of his trousers, shooting a look to the row of plants he was playing to. "Beethoven tomorrow, you lot. First Sonata, and please…some spirit next time?" He returns to Phoebe now, zeroing in on her last few words. "Notus..Fri-what-i?"
Okay, so maybe not. Phoebe grins, this one not hiding away. "I guess maybe when you get old and set in your ways, that's okay." She shrugs, because seriously, adults, who can understand them? As he talks over to the plants, she tilts her head. "Do you do different music for different plants?" she asks, then smiles. "Notus Frigori," she repeats. "It's a cold-air charm. It's kind of like Frigorus, but instead of just freezing something, it makes the cold air blow round and round something. …or someone." She grins, as though she didn't just rattle off charms stuff that most certainly isn't in the second-year curriculum.
Why has he not heard of this charm! Or … maybe he has and wasn't paying close enough attention to remember. But Kiefer does remember the freezing charm. The boy looks miffed! "I'd definitely remember a charm like that, I think," he says to himself, gaze turning a little distant. "Did I forget? Couldn't be. I drink rosemary tea everyday for focus and memory.." He blinks, chocolate hued eyes refocusing on her. "When did you learn this? And some plants have preferences, yes. The bigger ones like the newer stuff. Have you heard of Sergei Rachmaninoff? Vines like his Rhapsody on a Theme of Paginini. Was just written three years ago."
It really is a nice cool breeze thing, even when you're just on the edges of it. "Oh, uhm…" Phoebe frowns, considering. "…a while ago." She shrugs. And, come to think of it, wasn't the freezing charm third year? "It's not very hard, I can show you if you want." She smiles again, and tilts her head at the music. "Nooo, I don't think I have, or… uhm. Maybe? Is he the one that's sorta… crashy?" Skilled with musical terminology, she is not.
A fifth year learn a charm from a mere second year? Oh the embarrassment! Oh the shame! What would the other fifth years think?? … Luckily, Kiefer cares not for such things. What he does care about, however, is staying cool in a hot greenhouse, for a majority of his free time is spent here, and exiting hot and sweaty is not cool. And so at her offer, he replies with a lavish, "Would you please?? I know I lose a bloody pound from sweat whenever I'm in here." His wand is retrieved from a deep pocket of his overalls. Ready and willing! "Er, crashy?" He ponders the term. "Oh, you mean like…dissonance? He's a pianist, and…well they all use it sometimes. I'll have to place a bit of it for you. If you heard it, you may know who he is." He grins, but music will come later. Magic comes now!
Phoebe reaches for her wand and pulls it out with a graceful little flick as she listens to Kiefer explain the music. She nods. "Yeah, I mean… I might've heard it at a party or something, or one of the concert trips." A shrug, and a smile for hearing it later, and then on to demonstrating the spell. "Okay, so…" She glances about, then points to an empty clay pot at the end of a row with her wand. "Notus Frigori!" she declares, with an up-flick-cross-swirly-round of her wand. Swoosh! The pot obtains a windchill, which she leaves for a moment before casting a quick dispel. "It'll fade on its own eventually," she notes. "An hour or two, depending how strong you cast."
Kiefer idly tucks away a lock of hair from his eyes. No obstructions. He must see this! He nods at the gesture to the clay pot before fixating his eyes on the motion of her wand again. Up flick swirl cro…no. Or was it 'up doubleflick cross'? He mimics the motion with his wandless hand a moment. "Alright. I think I have it. Here goes." He straightens his back a little, zeroing in his focus on that same pot as his wand is lifted. "Notus Frigori!" Up doubleflick cross swirly round! Woosh, goes the spell to the pot..which in turn is engulfed in a mini freezing tornado! Urm, so much for a nice gentle breeze? "Uh oh.." Round and round it spins, faster and faster, caught up in the contained arctic twister. "Oh, hey, DUCK!" he cries out in warning just as he ducks down, covering his head with his arms. Swooosh! The pot is flung out from the twister at rapid speed, straight across the greenhouse, and right towards one of the glass walls! Shatter!
Phoebe repeats the gesture, no words. Just to make it clear! She nods. "Yeah, that's right." And it was! Definitely the right motion in the practice round. As for the real thing… Phoebe's eyes widen, and she ducks and dodges (yes, both at once!) as her wands stays trained on the swirling whirling…. flinging! winds. Crash! "…too much emphasis on the Notus," she says, before trotting over to check out the damage.
Kiefer gradually lifts his arms from his head and peers at the now broken pot. "…Oops." He rises, smoothing his hands on his clothing. "Quite.." he answers in agreement with her, eyeing the glass on which the pot smashed upon. Not broken through, that's good! But there is a crack to be seen there. "Wow.. I haven't messed up a charm so badly in … well. Since last year." He grins, rubbing a hand at his head as he follows after her, eyeing that spider-webbed crack.
"See, it's the wind part," says Phoebe. "Active air element, and those can get wild." Ya think? She hops up onto one of the tables, which creaks slightly but seems otherwise content to hold her. Pots of dirt are heavy. It's built to be sturdy. "Hmmm. Well. It's not broken through, you can probably just use Reparo." She pauses, and glances down at the fifth-year. (Hey, up on the table, she's actually taller than him! That's neat.) "Or, uhm, I can, if you'd rather." Since apparently he makes something of a habit of this? The mention of 'last year' does give that impression!
"For a … second year, you know quite a lot.." remarks Kiefer, eyeing her curiously now. "Don't tell me you're a magical prodigy?" he says, grinning crookedly. "Rather, do tell me. I haven't met one before, so you'd be my very first. And, fancy that, we share the same house." He gives his wand a few light taps against the side of his thigh, as if to clear of it of cobwebs which must have been part of the reason why his charm failed and hers went so smoothly. "Oh no, don't sound so worried. I know reparo. It's my best charm! Just the other day I had to fix a broken pot. Very unrelated to this broken pot, but still a pot that was broken…by me. In a much different way." Oh no, have we come across a trend? "Reparo." Swish, swish, flick! to the cracked window, which beneath the blink of an eye, rewinds the process of cracking. All fixed!
Phoebe flips her wand back against her arm, out of the way (but easily restored to active duty) as she puts her arms around behind her back. "Well, okaaay," she says, stepping back as Kiefer prepares to fix things. That's right, fixing! Not breaking further. One of her brows rises as he explains his recent usage of that charm, with - nope, that most certainly isn't a smile. The expression is aristocratic skepticism, entirely unforced. It turns to a grin at the end, with the fixing-charm's success. "Oh, I'm not a prodigy," she says as she hops down off the table. "My da studies Charms, is all, and I've been helping him in the lab since I could hold up a book."
Kiefer contemplates her words a moment before he nods in a decisive way. "That's close enough to be a prodigy to me. Prodigy-esque. When I was old enough to hold up books, guess what I was doing? Holding up books. And probably drooling on pages. Or tearing them out. huh … Maybe that's why we never had many books in the house…" He says thoughtfully, momentarily losing himself on a tangent. It's all making sense now ….. And now! Back to the present. He blinks. "You're better than me at this," he says matter of factly. "I'm not horribly awful, but," he points his want to the fragments of broken pot pieces, "/this/ still happens sometimes. And I have OWLS this year. If I need help, will you? If you need help with something, like .. scales, notes, violin, herbology, reading music, yoga poses, double stops, healing potions, or defense," he says, in one breath, "I can help. It'll be a trade off."
Phoebe giggles at the talk of drooling on books. "Well, I mean, spellbooks are awfully heavy. It takes extra skill to hold them up." Because, yeah, two year old Phoebe? Probably also drooled on things. She wouldn't know. It's like someone cast an obliviate on those years of her life. No, really, she means a slightly older her… but, hey, about that present. "Well, okay," she says. "I don't mind, you're nice." There's a smile for that. "I don't know anything about music, though. Or yoga. And what are double stops, anyhow?"
"Double extra muscle skill. You're probably a weight lifting prodigy too and aren't aware of it," remarks Kiefer. "Your parents likely know as they're the ones that watched you tote around books the size of your whole self. My guess, year….four, you'll spring up a whole foot and have arms as thick around as tree trunks." He lifts his own arms and flexes invisible muscle mass! Mwuahaha! He grins after, and seems genuinely pleased at the compliment of being nice. "Thank you. There is enough meanness in the world. I try not to add to it. And double stops are when you play two strings at once on violin. Or guitar. Or any other stringed instrument. It's a nice sound, or can be God-awful if you're out of tune, sharp or flat." A snicker. "Your name is Phoebe, right?"
Phoebe glances down at her arms with that aristocratic arched brown. "…maybe," she acknowledges. "But then I learned levitation charms and I stopped carrying them around so much by hand. But, once a part, always a part and all that. So we'll see. Maybe it'll be your NEWT project." She grins, then nods. "People can be… well, yeah." The explanation about double stops gets an interested look, and she nods. "Mother always wanted me to learn an instrument, but… I never did." She shrugs. "Yeah. Phoebe Izetta Galetti Evans." She does an elegant curtsy, perfect except for the twinkle in her eyes and slight smirk.
"Yours too? Must be a mother thing," remarks Kiefer, whose brows lift. What is it with moms and instruments?? Her proper introduction is answered with a less than perfect bow from him. "Well met Miss 'I have a lot of names' Phoebe Izetta Galetti Evans. I'm Kiefer, with few names, Vaughn. Middle name Aubrey. So all together, Kiefer Aubrey Vaughn. And I hope to survive my OWLS before even beginning to think about NEWTs." He laughs, eyes straying to the outside world a moment, gauging time. "I think..it is time… for me to secure a time piece so I can stop guessing at the time. But I think it's time for me to go. If I show up to Transfiguration looking like this again, this time I might /really/ be turned into a hog-nosed rat." He won't chance it!
"It's only one more," says Phoebe on the subject of names and numbers. "That's not much. It's just Evans on the records, anyhow, but mother'd hardly let us not have the family name." She shrugs, once more casual instead of elegant bowing Phoebe, then grins. "Too bad they don't have an OWL in music. Melodimancy or what have you. But okay, I'll see you later. Don't get snuffly-nosed and porcine!"
Insert wistful look .. here! "If there was an OWL on music, I'd have no complaints! And can you imagine?" Kiefer goes on, interest obviously sparked, "music and magic? To see notes and melodies right before your eyes? Maybe coming out like a painting with the sky the canvas," he waves a hand, as if already seeing colors swirling as an abstract design. "But, music is already a bit like magic, isn't it? It can make people feel better. It helps plants grow. Your mood shapes the music you play, and when others hear it, they feel that same mood." Ah, now if he could only be so passionate about all his other studies as he is with music and plants! Like.. Transfig. Total suckage. "May my nose stay human and body unfurred!" He collects his violin case and gives each fly trap a quick pat. "See you, see you, see you, see you, see you, and you cheer up," said to the runt. "Goodbye Phoebe!" He plucks up his long ago discarded robe and heads out the door.