Charms Lesson 3: A Healing Rage

Charms Class
13 April 1921, Wednesday
A few days after returning from Easter Break

This term had been filled with tragedy, confusion, hurt and suffering. It was widespread throughout the castle, for some more than others. When Professor Bourne asked Gideon to help with another lesson, he agreed, but only if he was able to teach something a bit different.

The students needed to heal. It would take time, mental and physical work to get past the issues that plagued them all year. With the discovery of Thayer and his subsequent torture of three innocent young girls, the castle had been in a state of shock and depression. Gideon wanted to do something… anything to help them through it.

There was one thing that came to mind, something a bit different than the normal charms lesson. He would be introducing a spell that not many knew about. One that he had only learned after his wife had passed, when a therapist helped him heal from the tragedy.

---

Memories of that day came back to him as he looked at the vase sitting on the desk in front of him. Once beautiful in its simplicity. A blueish green color, in a traditional shape and average size. Nothing extraordinary, until it was shattered. In his pain and suffering, Gideon had sent the vase hurtling at the wall, causing it to break into a multitude of pieces during a more passionate therapy session. His doctor used that violence to help him heal.

---

That lesson was one he wanted to teach to his students. They were stronger than they would ever give themselves credit for.

---

As the students arrived to class they would notice something quite different than their normal classroom filled with desks. Today, as they entered, the room was dramatically bigger. No windows could be seen. No light coming in from outside. The main open area of the class was vacant, forcing the students to stand around with their peers. Along the walls were doors to places unknown. Each door was a different color with a different number emblazoned on the outside. There was no indication what the color or number might mean.

Next to the door leading to the hallway, there was a large bookshelf filled with very different, very colorful pottery. Every color and shape was represented. Bowls, plates, vases, pots, platters and figurines. Many of the students looked at the items, thankfully they didn’t touch.

“Good afternoon students. Welcome to charms. It’s nice to see you all today, I hope you had a very restful Easter Holiday.”

Gideon walked around the front of the class, a simple table with one object in the middle, covered with a small cloth. He leaned against the table surveying the students. Some, thankfully, looked more rested then the last time he saw them. Others, had seen things, and it showed in their eyes.

Gideon sighed, for some, this might be a difficult day. With a serious expression and a soft even tone, he addressed the class. “I know this term has been difficult. For some, far more than others. Today, I hope to help you heal, if only just a bit.”

Walking over to the blue door marked 1, Gideon turned the handle and let the door open into the room. “Please, everyone join me inside.”

As the students followed him into the room, a tight space, but large enough for all to see, Gideon took his place at the front of the class once again. The small room was decorated like most children’s rooms would be. Toys sat on a bookcase and in a small toy chest. A rocking horse sat in the corner with a small doll perched on the seat. There were pictures on the wall, a cricket bat in the corner and porcelain dolls lined a shelf above the bed. A large cushioned chair sat across from the bed, in a garish green and pink floral print, the bed spread matching the horrible fabric. A bedside table, simple and white, sat with a green lamp and pink lampshade. The colors were horrible.

“As you can all see this room is set up as a simple children’s room. Don’t worry, no one is forced to live here. Today we will be participating in a bit of Rage Therapy. Once we're ready, you will all pick a room to spend some time in. All the rooms are different, but the contents within don’t matter. Before entering, all will be required to wear protective eye wear, as well as a protective charm for safety. You can cast this on yourself, or I can help if it’s beyond your level. Once inside the room your task is to…” he stopped, thinking how best to explain the instructions. Best to just come out with it.

“Your task will be to break everything you can get your hands on. How you choose to do this is up to you. Every room will have a bat, mallet or hammer of some kind. You can go at the objects with your hands, feet, weapon of choice, or of course your wand. The point of this is to get out your anger and aggression. Scream, shout, curse, cry, whatever you need to do. This is not supposed to be pretty. There is no right way. I expect for some, this might be very difficult.”

Looking at the students in front of them, most had lost their spark. Aged beyond their years in the short amount of time he had been at the castle. Hopefully, with a little letting go, they would get their light back.

---

((OOC: HELLO! And welcome to Charms Lesson 3. As you have read above, this is a different type of lesson. Some rage room therapy for the students. In this initial post, please only respond with them entering the classroom, reacting to the change in the room, possibly how they have been feeling since the carnival and how their Easter break was. Last, have them choose a room, but DO NOT enter. The next post they will enter and have the chance to let out some aggression. If you have any questions, please let me know! POSTING SCHEDULE WILL BE AS FOLLOWS: Update 1: Nov 6th. Update 2: Nov 10th Update 3: Nov 14th.))

Please pick a room and bold it in your post. ONLY ONE PERSON PER ROOM
Door 1: Blue [Ever](Children's room. See above description. Cricket bat for smashing)
Door 2:[TILLY] Green (Greenhouse. Filled with plants, pots, bags of dirt, tools, walls are glass panels. Shovel for smashing)
Door 3: Pink[RAE](Kitchen. Filled with food, plates, utensils, a trash can, sink, drinkware, table and chairs. Broom for smashing)
Door 4: Red (Astronomy Classroom. Desks, chairs, books, stacks of parchment, multiple telescopes, scientific type instruments and planets hovering at the ceiling. Long metal eyeglass for smashing)
Door 5: Orange [Rosie] (Apothecary. Multiple small tables, cauldrons, mortar and pestle, shelves lining the walls filled with ingredient jars and hundreds of potions bottles. Long wooden stirring stick for smashing. (potions not real, no danger of mixing or breaking them))
Door 6:[ALICE] Yellow (Living room. Couches, a desk, chairs, a roaring fireplace, pictures, knick knacks, books, bowls of fruit and other things your granny would love. Fireplace poker for smashing)
Door 7: Purple [Tulip](Curiosity shop. A random shop filled with all sorts of strange and magical things. Odd ball instruments, and figurines, glass baubles and strange do-dads. Metal Mace for smashing)

Oh, Rae touched.

Without any real warning not to, the Slytherin had indeed run her fingers along the colourful pottery, her fingers dancing gently along the structures as they walked by them. Much like the last time Professor Bourne had fancied himself too busy being inept to do his own job, the girl didn't bother to wonder why the deputy was once again in charge of their lesson. It seemed to her that it was happening more and more frequently and much like many other things within the castle, there was nothing that could really be done about it.

Down the hall they went, walking by door after door. An illusion maybe? Expansion charms to fit it all in? A more curious girl may have wondered. Rae didn't feel curious, only tired. Unlike many of her classmates, Rae hadn't come back from Easter break feeling rested, only defeated in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. The events of the previous term aside--and it had been insane--she'd also been weighed down by the talk she'd had with Billie.

When it all came down to it, even with her mother's most reassuring words, there didn't seem like anything anyone could really do.

It made her angry yes, but also...sadder than she could remember being in the longest while. That was where her defeat came from. Not at being kidnapped, not even at staring her own death in the eyes and managing to walk away. Those stirred different feelings, ones she could convince herself to push down. The heaviness in her chest came from a place of helplessness that she'd been forced back into, a reminder that the world...sometimes...just didn't care to be fair and that there was nothing one could really do to change that.

What was she even meant to do with that?

Rae looked around at the room. Obviously meant for a child, a child that was cared for. There was probably a reason they were all being packed into there and in another moment it was revealed. Rage ...therapy? She turned the term over in her head while the man went on with his explanations. Rage, as therapy. The girl had no shortage of rage in her small frame, quite capable of blowing up with the intensity of an atomic bomb, but it had always come with a reason, a trigger. Raging because the professor said to...seemed awfully strange to the girl who wasn't currently a bubbling with fury.

Still, she didn't suppose this was much of a choice either.

Nicking herself a pair of protective glasses, Rae went and stood before the pink door. Without any real idea of what might have been waiting on the other side, the girl chose the colour that appealed to her most.

When she got to the other side, she would choose her method of destruction. She supposed it all depended on what she felt like in the next few minutes.

Easter break had been… a lot.

Bram and Tilly had stayed in London, wanting to be closer to Everleigh and her family. Tilly’s young cousin had gone through a horrible event just a few short weeks ago. Torture, on a 13 year old. Thayer better be rotting in hell.

They visited the Blackstone Hall, the home of the Ravenstone family. Usually a bustling manor filled with parties and meetings, over Easter it was a quiet tense home. Tilly’s Aunt Margery and Uncle Thatcher were always nice, but seemed strict. Much more proper than Tilly’s upbringing. Even since coming to live with Bram. Thatcher seemed to be a hard man to please. Never around, only coming for dinner then leaving to attend to more business, Tilly barely saw the man. Even that being his normal way, this break was worse. He seemed angrier, surly… almost mean.

Not that she could blame him, his daughter had been tortured by a madman.

Coming back to the castle, Tilly was exhausted. Both emotionally and physically. This year had taken a toll, that was for sure. As she arrived to Charms, looking far more disheveled than her normal appearance, her eyes went to the people in attendance. No Ever. Not a shock, she hadn’t seen Ever in a class since the tower. Then her eyes settled on Rae. Her heart squeezed at the site of her best girlfriend. Another of Thayer’s victims.

Walking over to Rae, Tilly linked arms with her and rested her head on her shoulder. “Hello Miss Elliot. How are you doing on this fine April day? Wait, where is Professor Bourne?”

It just caught her attention that Deputy Blackwood was teaching the class today. This would be the second lesson he took over. Strange.

As Gideon described the lesson, Tilly got more and more nervous for some reason. She was no stranger to therapy, having gone a few times after the abuse inflicted by her grandmother. It helped, at least she thought it did. But rage therapy? That just sounded… strange.

Looking around the room, taking in the toys, books, stuffed animals and the bat, it did sound kinda fun to smash the shit out of things. Maybe this rage therapy wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Once they were released to pick a room, Tilly went to stand in front of the green door marked with the number two. And there she waited for the next set of instructions.

---

Picked room #2, the green door

Alice was tired. Easter break was meant to be relaxing. But her parents had made it anything but; they treated Everleigh as if nothing had happened to her, when clearly she was not okay. The Hufflepuff felt like she probably lost more sleep than anything because her sister had begun waking up in the middle of the night – screaming and crying.

It didn’t bother her that Professor Bourne was gone again. She barely even reacted to seeing her Head of House teaching again. She stood quietly and listened to what he had to say. She followed him when she was instructed to do so, looking around at the things in the bedroom. She sighed, wanting to go back to bed now.

Rage Therapy? Alice could be interested in that. She looked around at the doors and almost felt overwhelmed with having to pick one. While Tilly and Rae picked theirs quickly, Alice shut her eyes and decided that wherever her eyes were landing was where she was going.

The yellow door came into view when she opened her eyes. Figured. She didn’t really like the color yellow, but it fit her; she was a Hufflepuff afterall. Though she liked the darker of their colors (black) better. Especially lately.

Alice, wordlessly, geared up and stood in front of her selected door. She had no clue what to expect to be on the other side of the door, or what her method of breaking things would be. For Alice, the one who was always so very careful, it would be strange to let her emotions out and direct it at stuff.

Normally she kept things bottled up, focusing on others more than herself.

As the class came in, eyes found him, questions clear on the students’ faces. They should really be used to things changing daily. Classes and professors were changing faster than the weather.

Watching the students walk in with varying emotions on their faces was no surprise. The first few students were either a victim of Thayer or a family member of another. The level of exhaustion, both emotional and physical, was clear.

“Thank you all for choosing a door. There will be no switching once the door is open. Call it fate, this is the room you are meant to be in.”

Cataloging the doors that each student stood in front of, the only one he could see being an issue was Miss Nordstrom. In front of the green door, it would be interesting to see how well she did at destroying the things she loved most.

“Now that you have chosen your room, we will begin. When you enter, take a look around the room. Furniture, items, windows, walls… everything is fair game. If you have the means to destroy it, go for it.”

Gideon walked behind the students, everyone lined up in front of their doors. Most looked a bit nervous to enter, possibly expecting something to jump out and attack them. Thankfully, nothing would jump out of the shadows.

“This lesson is to help you release tension. Get out your anger. As you enter, walk around the room while focusing on your feelings. What has been bothering you? What keeps you up at night? Has someone wronged you?”

Thinking about his own anger, Gideon pictured himself in front of one of the very same doors, ready to enter and release the rage building up inside.

“As you focus on the cause of your distress, pick up an object and toss it as hard as you can against the wall. Or floor. I recommend screaming, cursing, or even crying if that’s what you need. There is no right way to heal. Whatever feels right, do it. You also have your wand, you can use that as well. Again, whatever feels right. The rooms have both muffling and protection charms placed. Nothing you do in that room will come back to hurt you.”

There were a few charms that, without the protections, could blow a hole in the classroom. One in particular almost took out the entire Dark Tower recently. Gideon decided that would not be the best idea.

“Before you enter, I would like you each to pick a piece of potter off the shelf near the door. Pick one that you are drawn too. Again, no right answer, jut trust your gut and choose. One you have your item, place it on the floor, just outside your door. Then, enter and begin.”

---

((OOC: Time for some raging. How your character processes their rage is up to you. Through their hands, magic, a combo, whatever works is fine. No set number of spells to use, the real ‘charms’ will come in the next update.

The piece of pottery you chose will come into play in the NEXT update. Please do not break that item yet.

I would like the next update to stay on the 10th. If you need more time, that can be arranged. HAVE FUN!))

“Hello Miss Elliot. How are you doing on this fine April day? Wait, where is Professor Bourne?”


"Off somewhere, not knowing how to do his job?" Rae suggested, as her friend came to rest on her. A light shrug rolled off the shoulder that wasn't currently housing Tilly; neither remorse nor restraint was found in her tone. It hadn't been the first time that Bourne hadn't been able to carry out his professor duties, and, before the term was out, she didn't think it would be the last. In one way or another, many of the professors had been letting down the students, but Rae had grown numb to such matters.

Bourne, Blackwood, it didn't really matter who taught her charms at the end of the day. She would still learn what she would and discard the rest.

"Maybe he's gone for good this time."

A girl could dream.

As the lesson went on and others began choosing their own rooms, Rae spared a glance along the corridor at where everyone else was headed. There was no telling what lay on the other side, for either herself or her friends, but it was getting increasingly clear that the deputy headmaster was hoping to have them digging deep for whatever 'hurt' or 'trauma' he'd convinced himself they were harbouring. Her demons were her own. She fought them the way she wanted, not the way someone else thought she should.

"As you enter, walk around the room while focusing on your feelings. What has been bothering you? What keeps you up at night? Has someone wronged you?”

What bothered her? Who wronged her?

Neither were easy questions, nor were they things she wanted to unpack in the middle of a lesson. Locked in their soundproof rooms, there may have been some illusion of privacy, but the context remained the same. She would be surrounded by her peers. Rae wasn't the sort to break then walk out of the room and suddenly be okay again. Her cataclysms were entire events, wrought with heavy emotion and aggression. They were storms that raged until she had no energy left.

This was not the place for that, and she wouldn't recover in time to continue on with the others.

Rae grabbed the first potter she could off the shelf before heading inside to discover a kitchen. Not many better places to be. Having no interest in dredging up her inner hurt child, Rae walked over to the counter where the food was lined up. She grabbed herself the lamb pie and the plate of chicken wings before turning and heading for the alternate counter. Setting both down, Rae hoisted herself up to have a seat while she finally took that look around the room. There was plenty to destroy and no need for anger to see it done.

The girl was careful to keep the potter safe further down the counter.

Wand in one hand, a slice of meaty deliciousness in the other, Rae gave a lazy flick of her wand in the direction of the table with its chairs so neatly tucked under. "Expulso."

BOOM!

A symphony of destruction rang out, pieces of wood flying all over the room as the table and its decor shattered.

The sink was next. Rae bit into the pie, the juicy meat on the inside sending her taste buds to nirvana. "Expuslo."

Hmmmm. This was some good lamb.

How was it only Wednesday, so far they had been reminded they had owls 24 times this week, definitely up on the 18 times per week average the professors had been doing since the start of term. Along with endless lectures on making more effort. Tulip didn't see the point of trying hard when a pass was enough. She still had no idea what she wanted to do after school although the way things were going she'd just be happy to survive school.

Of course no one spoke about it at home, it was like it never happened, her parents were so wrapped up in their own lives they didn't seem to care. Of course Rose kept making a big deal about it, the trauma of it all, not of course that she'd actually experienced anything other than having her making out session at the carnival cut short, Briar hadn't even gone, her and her weirdo friends were too busy making potions of unknown sketchyness in the dungeons and Poppy, well if she'd met any of the ner-do-wells she would have joined them. Tulip had heard stuff had gone on, heard rumours about people in her year and some first year, but other than being made to give the net pet she'd acquired back. She was glad her parents didn't want her to move schools, she hated this one why would she want to go somewhere new just to hate it. Although on the bright side she no longer had to waste time doing Astronomy or Ancient Runes which was a definite bonus she had a few extra hours a week to mess around and complete her various detention naps.

“I know this term has been difficult. For some, far more than others. Today, I hope to help you heal, if only just a bit.”

"You're not Bourne!" was the first thing that Tulip said upon seeing Professor Blackwood, "Here I was hoping for dodge ball again..." no instead they were going to heal what the heck did that actually mean, "Healing isn't that hospital wing stuff," Tulip was confused, "This is charms right? We do the wand waving stuff." Tulip liked charms it had been a mostly practical term and she'd enjoyed that, it was better than the reading stuff. "And why the sudden caring? No one seems to care normally. Heck in DADA we've been learning blood curses and trying them on ourselves." she muttered from somewhere at the back of the class room. Adults were off their rockers. Especially ones who were also professors.

The room they entered was odd especially all the different coloured doors, she figured it must be some new variation on a port key.

Today we will be participating in a bit of Rage Therapy.

Tulip raised an eyebrow, Rage Therapy what the hell? What the dickens was Rage Therapy? Why did they need Rage Therapy? Tulip didn't feel especially ragey, sure she occasionally got miffed but never really rage driven that was definitely Rose, Poppy and Flora they were the Angry Asquith girls, she was more the mellow carefree Asquith.

“Your task will be to break everything you can get your hands on. How you choose to do this is up to you. Every room will have a bat, mallet or hammer of some kind. You can go at the objects with your hands, feet, weapon of choice, or of course your wand. The point of this is to get out your anger and aggression. Scream, shout, curse, cry, whatever you need to do. This is not supposed to be pretty. There is no right way. I expect for some, this might be very difficult.”

Tulip was confused, she'd never felt angry enough to literally wany to smash things, she didn't get angry she got petty. "So we are to just go and smash stuff?" she said slowly making sure she'd heard it right. "What if we're not actually angry?" she asked, she wasn't she might want to steal any useful objects but she didn't want to break them. People assumed she was angry as she gave sass and played Beater, she gave sass because she fought stupidity with pettiness and Beater because hitting a flying ball of angry hate accurately was by far the most skilled position in all of Quidditch.

She opened the PURPLE DOOR, She was impressed to see a curiosity shop, so many things to look at. And possibly steal. She looked at the mace, was she really expected to trash all this cool stuff? She picked up the mace slung it over her shoulder noticing the weight and wandered round looking what cool stuff she could steal. She really didn't understand this anger thing.

Professor Blackwood’s words made their way to Alice, who took each one and made sure she understood the instructions perfectly.

“What has been bothering you?”

Being perfect, and needing to make sure her sister was on the right track. That used to be easier than it was now. Before, it could be annoying trying to keep her focused. Now? Now it was just scary. And their parents were doing nothing to help the situation.

“What keeps you up at night?”

She knew the answer to that one too; she was worried that her sister was going mad, literally losing her mind. And no one could see it but her. Alice found herself hanging out outside Ravenclaw tower during her patrols, even though that was not her area, just in case Ever needed her.

“Has someone wronged you?”

No one had directly harmed her. No, Alice was relatively unscathed. But her sister’s pain was intense, and she could swear she could feel it when she was around her. However, the Hufflepuff thought she might just be projecting how she thought Everleigh should feel.

Brown eyes moved to the shelf of pottery. She looked at the pieces, none feeling right. Not until she saw the perfectly round sphere. That one. That was perfect. Carefully, Alice picked it up from the shelf and gingerly set it down on the floor outside her door.

When Professor Blackwood said it was time to enter, Alice opened the door and stepped inside. She frowned. A living room? She had an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach as she looked around. It wasn’t exactly like the home she had grown up in, and yet it had the same air about it. Everything was tidy, everything was perfect.

Just like her parents had always expected her to be. Alice had perfected the act, but it went deeper than that. It was more than an act for her. She was perfect. She had a hard time breaking the rules. She was called ‘mum’ sometimes by her friends.

As she walked around the room, touching the objects, Alice felt anger beginning to build up inside of her. She was tired of perfect. She was tired of feeling like she had to live up to some sort of unreal expectation set by her parents.

A vase on the mantel reminded her of one her mum had. The color was right, but not the shape. Either way, Alice picked it up and turned it in her hands. Then she smirked and just let go. The vase shattered on the floor just as one would expect. And how did she feel?

Satisfied, perhaps. Maybe a bit energized. She looked over at a clock and pushed it onto the ground.

It didn’t take long for Alice to begin breaking anything and everything she could get her hands on.

Her eyes roamed over the different pieces of pottery, trying to decide which felt right to her. Her eye went to a simple vase, maybe 14 inches in height with a rounded base. In a shop, it wouldn’t garner much attention, but Tilly’s eyes kept going to the piece. A deep red in color, blood red. Pictured in battle scenes were majestic lions. Red. Lions. Looked perfect to the Gryffindor.

Tilly was unsure what was beyond the door, which gave her a small pause prior to opening the door. It could literally be ANYTHING.

As the Deputy released them to rage, she opened the door and groaned. “Seriously?! You want me to destroy PLANTS?! That goes against everything I love!” Walking into the room, huffing with annoyance at the instructions to destroy anything in this fake greenhouse, Tilly trailed her hands over the leaves.

“Ugh, FINE!” She said, grabbing the shovel leaning up against a worktable. Before shattering the pots and glass surrounding her, Tilly had to focus her anger, but what would she focus on? Unfortunately, she had a few different situations to choose from.

Her Grandmother and her abuse. The abandonment by her parents. The near-death experience she suffered over the summer. The torture her cousin endured at the hands of Thayer. There were other things, but those were the freshest in her mind. Thinking over the four, one kept coming to mind, more than any other.

Her grandmother was an evil bitch and had caused more than her fair share of hurt in Matilda’s life. Tilly shut her eyes and thought back to the many, many times her Grandmother had inflicted her pain. Hitting, starving, locking her in a small room, and tying her to chairs to make her posture just right.

CRASH

Tilly didn’t even realize the shovel had been swung, her eyes opening, seeing the large terracotta pot shattered into so many pieces. Her breaths coming in quick pants, this time with her eyes open, she swung the shovel breaking the glass of the greenhouse wall. Ok… That felt good.

Taking her wand out, she cast a few explosive spells on the pots, watching the dirt and plants scatter over the ground. “Bombarda!”

As efficient and fun as the spells were, there was something about raging with her own hands that had her going back to the shovel.

"You're not Bourne!"

Gideon’s eyes went to Tulip, who seemed personally affronted by seeing him as the Professor today. Well, too bad. “Miss Asquith, thank you for your observations. I am, in fact, not Professor Bourne. If you have an issue with this, take it up with the Deputy Head Master.” He gave her a look, raising her eyebrow. “I’m sure he would love to hear your criticism of the class today.”

As the students listened to the directions, many with questions, he did his best to answer them and usher them towards their selected doors. "So we are to just go and smash stuff?" He heard Tulips’s voice again. "What if we're not actually angry?" With a sigh, Gideon went over to the Gryffindor.

“I’m sure if you dig deep you will find something that makes you angry. A sibling that makes you mad. The injustice of something or the way punishments make you feel. If you can’t think of anything, feel free to just smash stuff for the fun of it.”

“Seriously?! You want me to destroy PLANTS?! That goes against everything I love!”

Gideon got a small smirk on his face with the voice currently pissed off. “Miss Mathelda, I understand the hardship this may cause, but be assured. No real plants will be harmed during the practical portion of this lesson.” The minute she picked the green door, he knew she would be upset.

Everyone had been angry at one point in their life. For that, he was sure. It might take some students a bit longer to pull it out, uncover it from years of burying what wasn’t pleasant, but hopefully most would be able to bring it to the surface.

As the students made their way inside their rooms, it didn’t take long to hear some breaking. From the sounds behind the doors, some were taking it far more seriously than others. This wasn’t a normal Charms lesson. They weren’t learning defensive spells or how to battle an opponent. In this lesson, they had to battle their own feelings and emotions. For many, this was more difficult than a duel.

Gideon let the students battle their demons for a good twenty minutes. The screams, cries and curses were quieting down now, most who embraced the full nature of the lesson were probably both emotionally and physically exhausted.

Walking down the row of doors, Gideon tapped his wand on each door as he passed. Within the room, the scene of destruction cleared completely, leaving within the student and their chosen piece of pottery sitting on the floor at their feet.

Pointing his wand at this throat, Gideon began speaking. Magic making his voice carry to all students in their rooms. “Take a deep breath. For those who embraced their anger, releasing it, smashing it on the ground in a fit of rage, I applaud you. It’s not easy. Next, you will attempt to heal a piece of that anger and rage.”

The spell he was introducing couldn’t erase the pain, but by releasing some of the hurt through shattering their pottery, they could work on healing. Recognizing and acknowledging the anger would allow their minds to start releasing it.

“What you will do next is important. I want you to pick up the piece of pottery, hold it, feel the weight, and look at the intricate designs. While breathing and focusing on the details, I want you to think about your anger. Why are you angry? Did someone cause this anger? What are the details around the incident? You just spent 20 minutes releasing it, now focus those thoughts on the pottery and imbue those feelings into the piece. Once you have those feelings organized, I want you to take the pottery, hold it above your head, and shatter it on the ground.”

He had to admit, the instructions for this lesson were more than a little strange for a normal Charms class.

“Once the piece is destroyed, I want you to pick up the larger pieces, hold the pieces in your hand and think about the facts of the incident. Each piece will be a different thing that makes you angry about the event. A person, the place it happened, the time of day, the events that led up to it, the aftermath. Focus your thoughts on each individual piece. Once you feel like you have a handle on things, this may take some time, point your wand at the destruction on the floor and say clearly Auri Restauro. The entire time, while working with the pottery and saying the spell, you need to focus on your anger. Once you say the spell, you will notice that the pottery begins to slowly repair itself. This spell is not like your typical Reparo. Just like yourself, after something happens in your life, you are irreparably changed.”

Gideon let the students think and work quietly. For some, this would be difficult.

“Say the word slowly, Auri Restauro, clearly, and always keep in your mind that you are mending the pain and hurt you have suffered. For those of you unable to cast the spell, open your door a crack when you are ready and I will come in and help you with the spell.”

Little by little, he heard the pottery being broken. A few doors cracked open, Gideon entering to help the younger students focus and cast the spell. Their hand would grip his wrist, thinking intently about the healing, while they said the spell together.

Once the student had followed the process and cast the spell, they would be left with a fixed piece of pottery. The piece would be forever changed, the broken pieces being fused back together with gold. “As you finish up, I want you to take your pottery and look at it now. Notice how the breakage and repair have made the piece more beautiful and stronger than ever before. Just like you. The events you have gone through make you stronger. They never truly broke you. You have survived all of your hardest days and are stronger for it.”


((OOC: Ok… This was A LOT! I hope you are liking the lesson and the meaning behind it.

The Spell: Auri Restauro: AW-ree res-TOR-oh. Wand pointing straight down. Move the wand in a counterclockwise motion, once for every syllable (5 revolutions) over the broken item

Difficulty of the spell
Charms: Enhanced Utility Charms. 3rd year.

If you are below that level, just crack your door open and RP Gideon comes in to help you with the spell. If you have questions, please let me know!

During this update, finish the rage portion, then start with the healing. RP your student breaking the piece of pottery they picked, how it makes them feel, the anger they are focusing on, etc. Then write about fixing/healing the pottery. This does not mean that they will be forever healed from this angry event. It’s more about learning that they can survive hard things and be stronger for it. ))

NEXT UPDATE: 11/15

♡♡

Professor Blackwood was here again, which meant Professor Bourne wasn't.

Rosalie found she rather liked Blackwood. He was a kind sort, the type that didn't seem prone to fits of anger or seriousness. He also knew how to deal with Benji, and considering the boy wasn't hanging from the Gryffindor tower by his underwear yet, it begged to reason that he had a great amount of patience.

She didn't know where Professor Bourne had wandered off to, but considering she hadn't interacted with him on any real basis, she was more than happy to have the Deputy Headmaster in his place. At least he had interesting ideas that made Charms fun.

She followed along with the rest of the class, drifting through the blue door as her eyes took in a children's room. Were they...learning how to care for little ones? Last class was all about cooking so maybe the professor was going for some sort of Home Economics angle.

"Today we will be participating in a bit of Rage Therapy."

Oh. Apparently they were destroying rooms. Rosie tilted her head. Rage? She wasn't prone to bouts of loud anger or throwing tantrums. She was more the type to internalize and deal with her anger or disappointments quietly, working through them at her own pace. She had never broken anything, and had only recently yelled at her mother for the first time after she'd refused to protect Rosie from her father's requests.

Feeling apprehensive that she'd actually be able to manage this assignment to Professor Blackwood's expectations, she waited for everyone else to choose a door, before settling in front of the orange one.

“There will be no switching once the door is open. Call it fate, this is the room you are meant to be in.”

There was relief that washed over the girl in knowing the room was sound-proof. In the case that something unexpected happened when she stepped over the threshold and really lost it, she couldn't bear the thought of anyone hearing her cry. What she would cry about, she wasn't even sure yet. There was plenty going on in her life, but nothing that she tried to dwell on or linger on for too long. What did it serve to cry and mope? Rosie didn't think emotions were weakness in the slightest - the girl cried all the damn time - but she also didn't like to let herself get carried away.

She was a Laurence after all. A stiff upper lip was practically a physical trait amongst them.

The Gryffindor took a small piece of blue pottery off the shelf and tucked it securely into the pocket of her skirt before opening the door and stepping through.

As the door shut behind her, she immediately regretted choosing the door she had.

An apothecary. Shelves, tables and cabinets full of potions.

Rosie's stomach turned. It was a joke of some type, it had to be. Professor Blackwood said they wouldn't be able to switch, but he would listen if she begged him, right?

She sighed, already knowing where this was going. In a room full of potions, there was only one thing she would be able to focus on. There was no leaving; she may as well try to focus and do what he had asked.

She moved quietly through the room, her eyes took in all the tiny jars, filled to the brim with random-colored liquids and substances. Potions had never bothered her before everything had happened. They'd just been another tool, a way to heal or amplify one's abilities beyond their normal range. Now, as her eyes washed over the various shelves, all she saw was poison. Little bottles that stole her boyfriend's spirit and made him feel worthless. They were his remedy in the moment, deception in the good feelings they apparently caused him, only to drop him back to reality in a shamed haze.

He had hidden it from her the entire time they'd known each other, until it became an impossibility.

Her hand closed around the handle of the stirring stick that sat propped in one of the cauldrons. She swung it lightly in her palm, coming to stop in the middle of the room, alone with the silence that betrayed the noise in her head.

She could almost see him. Drink after drink. Stumbling. Out of his mind. The liquid stealing him from her as he hit the floor.

Rosie's jaw clenched, her hand tightening around the stick.

No one would know. No one would hear.

She'd restrained herself, never giving into the feelings that lay dormant beneath her determination to be supportive, loving and understanding. She had told herself that those quiet emotions weren't real, that they were ugly and intrusive, trying to disturb the peace she was so carefully cultivating.

She swung.

The stick slammed against the glass door of one of the cabinets, exploding and sending shards of glass and liquid in every direction. In the same motion, she raised her hand, "Bombarda!" The words came louder, harsher than she anticipated as a table full of supplies exploded beneath them. Her eyes widened, feeling a strange sense of relief reverberate from the crashing and banging around her.

Lifting the stick like her quidditch bat, the girl swung as hard as she could at a row of shelves, her eyes squeezing shut as potions showered around her. Another swing with an angry growl, and a window shattered.

She saw him, that look of shame washing over his face. Another image of him on the floor, eyes wide open and empty. Unresponsive. Every dismissal. Every truth kept from her in the effort to 'protect her'.

Tale as old as time. It's what they all did to her. She was never strong enough to know. Too delicate to understand. Too fragile to cope.

Bottle after bottle burst and imploded upon itself. Tables overturned, equipment thrown to the floor. In all of it, she never screamed. Never yelled. The only evidence of her frustration being the way her chest heaved and the tears that stung at the corner of her eyes but didn't fall.

When she didn't have another ounce of energy left, Rosie dropped the stick in the middle of the floor, taking in her destruction. She'd...never let loose like this before, and to be honest she was embarrassed to have done it now, even knowing it was what the professor wanted. It wasn't her. She didn't rage. She didn't...do stuff like this. She didn't let herself come undone to this extent.

The girl felt panic rising up, as she searched for a way to fix it. She could...she could reparo most of it. The potions were lost, but the glass and broken furniture. She could do that. She could do it before anyone saw.

A tap on the door had her turning quickly, but the mess around her had already vanished in a spot of mercy. She let out a heavy breath, sitting herself down in the middle of the floor to try and gather her bearings.

"You just spent 20 minutes releasing it, now focus those thoughts on the pottery and imbue those feelings into the piece. Once you have those feelings organized, I want you to take the pottery, hold it above your head, and shatter it on the ground.”

More shattering. More breaking, when all she wanted to do was feel whole and peaceful. She ran a hand over her face as she pulled the blue pottery from her pocket and held it in her hands. It was nothing remarkable. Nothing that stood out to distinguish it from any other piece. She sat with her feelings for a moment, not sure what any of this was meant to do. She smashed it, another jolt running through her at the abrasiveness of the shatter.

Following the professor's instructions, she sat with each piece, holding it in her hands and ruminating on the events of the past few months. A deep sadness came over her, stronger than she knew she even held. She wouldn't cry.

Holding her hand over the broken pottery, she quietly muttered the spell. "Auri Restauro." She kept her hand hovering, watching as the pieces came together slowly, mending themselves as she focused on the only emotion she could feel at the moment. Gold filled in the cracks, pulling each and every last piece back together, until the pottery shimmered with a brilliant strength that hadn't been there before.

“As you finish up, I want you to take your pottery and look at it now. Notice how the breakage and repair have made the piece more beautiful and stronger than ever before. Just like you. The events you have gone through make you stronger. They never truly broke you. You have survived all of your hardest days and are stronger for it.”

Rosalie didn't feel strong. She felt broken, just like the room she had destroyed. She had survived, but she didn't see herself the same as the pottery. She didn't feel infused with gold and strength. As beautiful as the spell was, and as nice as Professor Blackwood's sentiment was, Rosie couldn't help but feel there were some hurts that couldn't truly be repaired.

As she watched a third explosion go off, Rae found herself wondering how her friends were doing. Were they actually raging? Was it easier for them to access their anger with fewer consequences to follow? The girl, so familiar with her own demons, wondered which ones loomed in the shadows, haunting her friends, and who made them so angry that they could combust.

It was probably none of her business, though, in the same way her rage was not to be turned into material for an impromptu charms lesson just because the real professor couldn't be bothered with showing up.

The knock at the door drew her attention, putting an end to her destruction. Unfortunately, it was also the end of her meal, forcing her back to the task at hand. Angry therapy...or whatever the hell it was they were doing.

I want you to pick up the piece of pottery, hold it, feel the weight, and look at the intricate designs. While breathing and focusing on the details, I want you to think about your anger. Why are you angry? Did someone cause this anger?"

No, thank you.

They were similar to the questions the man had asked before. If she hadn't wanted to think about them the first time around, she certainly wouldn't be taking a swipe at them the second time. Rae wasn't in the mood to be emotionally eviscerated, nor was she willing to dredge up genuine hurt and pain for the sake of whatever spell the professor sought to teach them. On her own, often when the rest of the castle slept, she picked apart the dark, less pleasant pieces of her mind. She did it on her terms and in her own time, not with a timer ticking down until she had to be in Dark Arts class.

Rae would break the pottery, though. That took nothing out of her. The girl knocked it off the counter, watching it shatter as it hit the stone floor.

Then the instructions became more egregious. The person? The place? The time? She didn't want to return to any of those, and certainly not so she could fix something the man had told her to break in the first place.

No. Rae remained atop the counter, her gaze falling to the bits of clay that now littered the ground. If fixing it required her to first consider them as fragments of her broken psyche--things to be addressed--then she would pass on this, too.

Notice how the breakage and repair have made the piece more beautiful and stronger than ever before. Just like you. The events you have gone through make you stronger.

Ugh, spare her.

What a sap. The lesson had grown overly personal and sentimental, a little too much for her liking. She didn't know the deputy in that capacity, didn't like him either, and didn't need him trying to take on the role of her therapist or motivational coach. Rae let her pottery remain broken on the ground, thinking it was fine just the way it now was. It didn't need corny speeches and platitudes; each sharp edge served a purpose.

Could they leave yet?

The girl had come for class, not for forced spiritual healing.

Alice had a ceramic figurine of a dove in her hand that she was going to throw, when she heard the tapping on the door and the figure vanished. She frowned, and sighed. She wasn’t ready for anything else. She’d gotten used to being less than perfect, and now… well, this was hard.

Her eyes settled on the sphere; now was when she noticed the flower pattern on it. It was pretty, and she could see no imperfections when she picked it up. Even more now, she knew she’d picked the right piece for this exercise.

Drop it? Alice asked, contemplating the item. She tilted her head to the side a bit, her hair actually a bit disheveled from the movement of lifting things and breaking them. She never screamed though. Had she released enough emotion? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

With the way that her luck was going, she would bet a million galleons that she hadn’t.

Alice continued to listen to Professor Blackwood’s words, her eyes never leaving the sphere. She turned it gently in her hands, noticing that with the flowers were also small bees. That was cute.

After a bit, she finally lifted it over her head and dropped it.

The perfect sphere broke the second it hit the ground. Was that satisfying? Alice honestly didn’t know what she was feeling at this point besides just tiredness and melancholy.

She then picked up the largest pieces and stood up, staring at them. What did he say to think about? The event surrounding the source of her emotion. Or just more of the same like she had when she was actively breaking things.

The first thing she thought about was her bedroom back at the estate. Pristine. Had she gotten to go outside and play as a child? No. She was taught at a very young age that she had to carry herself with confidence. What kind of childhood had that been?

Lonely. Unsatisfying.

Alice frowned, tears prickling her eyes. She’d never be perfect enough. Sure, she knew how to behave to make them proud, but her magic was lacking. Horribly so.

“Auri Restauro,” she said, sniffling a bit. Nothing happened. Of course, she wasn’t good enough for even this to work.

She reluctantly cracked open her door. Without looking at the man, Professor Blackwood entered and she recited it again with his help. This time, it worked. He left the room and she watched the pieces mend themselves.

“As you finish up, I want you to take your pottery and look at it now. Notice how the breakage and repair have made the piece more beautiful and stronger than ever before. Just like you. The events you have gone through make you stronger. They never truly broke you. You have survived all of your hardest days and are stronger for it.”

Was she though? Had she survived? For some reason, the Hufflepuff felt that there was a lot more darkness in her future; like her skies had become overcast and she had no idea when everything would crumble around her. The more she saw Ever struggle, the more she believed this was true.

Alice sniffled, her tears dried up now. She wasn’t crying. She didn’t think she was anything. Being so lost in her thoughts, the sphere was completely mended and was lovely again. Beautiful? Likely not.

Who knew that full on raging was so exhausting. Tilly had truly let go. Putting her long hair up in a messy bun, Tilly destroyed it all. Whether it be by magic or through her hands, nothing was safe. Even the plants weren’t spared from her wrath.

Her wand took care of the bags of soil, brown dirt now covered everything, including Tilly. The pots, come to find out, were very fun to throw. Each pot was assigned something that angered her. Ren leaving, bad grades, evil Amazonian plants, mean family members. A few pots went sailing through the glass windows of the magical greenhouse, the sound of shattering was almost musical.

The tap on the door stopped her in her tracks, then the scene in front of her was wiped clean. Honestly, she had just hit her stride, maybe she could talk to Blackwood, do this on a weekly basis. “Take a deep breath. For those who embraced their anger, releasing it, smashing it on the ground in a fit of rage, I applaud you. It’s not easy. Next, you will attempt to heal a piece of that anger and rage.”

Tilly wasn’t ready to heal, she wanted to break. Listening to the Deputies instructions, she tried to calm her heart. Slowing her breathing, focusing her anger on the red vase. Picking one thing to focus on was impossible. There was so much anger and rage eating her alive.

After the vase dropped, she did as directed and held the pieces, thinking of the anger, the situations, the people involved, the way it made her feel. There were a lot of pieces, which worked in her favor, there was a lot of anger.”Auri Restauro.” Saying the spell and following the wand movements, Tilly watched as the broken vase glued itself back together with a beautiful vein of gold. It was mesmerizing.

Sure, she felt a little better. Letting some of the anger out was cathartic, but it also brought a lot of memories to the surface. Once buried, the seething anger she once felt for her Grandmother was back to the forefront. Like fuel to the fire. Thankfully, Granny was out of her life, so in time, that anger can be reburied and forgotten.

Behind the doors, the students participated with varying levels of rage. Some barely broke a thing, others completely obliterated their rooms. Most were somewhere in between. He wasn’t expecting anyone to walk out feeling completely healed, that wasn’t the point of the lesson.

Gideon hoped that when the students walked out of the rooms and went about their day they would feel some release. Even if just a little. And later, when they saw their pottery, maybe they would remember the lesson and think about how they were able to survive in a hard world and become stronger with their struggles.

“Take your time. There is no rush to get through the spell and fix your pottery. For some, it might take longer than others.”

There were a few people that needed help with the spell. This was to be expected, but the older students never once opened their doors. He wondered, when the doors opened, what they would look like. Would they walk out looking like nothing had happened? Would there be signs of distress? Tears?

“Once your potter is repaired, you may go. The pottery is yours to keep. Use it to reflect on later. As a reminder that you are strong and can survive even the hardest of struggles.”

One by one the doors opened. As expected, some students looked completely fine, not a hair out of place. Then there were others. Red puffy eyes, tear tracks down their cheeks. It was these people that he hoped got something out of this class. That maybe, just a few, would feel stronger in time. It likely wouldn’t happen today, but maybe one day.

---

((OOC: This is the end of Charms lesson 3! If you missed an update or the whole class, feel free to jump in and post, just follow the other updates. In this update, your students wrap up their spell and are able to leave class. Gideon is outside the doors, so if you want to stop and talk, feel free.

Class will close on 11/20, so please get your last posts in before then!

THANKS FOR PLAYING ALONG!))

She had been late to class, this wasn’t a shock anymore. It was more shocking when she actually showed up for classes. Everleigh walked in after everyone had already been in their rooms. No sound came from beyond the doors, but after Blackwood told her what the lesson was about, she knew nothing good was waiting on the other side of the door.

Everleigh got the instructions from the Professor. He looked at her with worrying eyes. Everyone looked at her like that now. She was “one of the three.” People looked at her differently now. Wondering if she was about to break. Cry at the drop of a hat, maybe start screaming. Sadly, all of those things could happen. They had happened.

Ever grabbed the first piece of pottery she saw on the shelf. It was an average black vase. Nothing interesting. Nothing memorable. It was just the first one her hand picked up.

Entering the blue rage room, Ever took stock of the little kids bedroom. It looked a lot like her room as a child. Some of the same types of toys littered the bed and shelves. Stuffed animals, books, blocks, dolls. Some figurines sat on the shelves, she picked them up and weighed them in her hands. Not very heavy, but breakable. She didn’t want to break it though. Enough was broken in her life. She didn’t want to watch more breaks. She saw her face more broken every time she looked in the mirror.

Everleigh was tired. Too tired and worn down for the raging. It would take too much out of her. Instead, she sat on the floor, back to the wall and shut her eyes. Did she have rage in her? Probably, but it was buried by terror and exhaustion. Just the thought about tossing stuff around, blowing shit up, screaming and yelling. Nope, that sounded horrible. She yawned, shutting her eyes.

---

Some time must have passed. A quiet knock on the blue door woke her up. Professor Blackwood entered, kneeling down next to her. His eyes showed how worried he was. She got that look a lot lately.

“Sorry Professor. I must have fallen asleep.”

Her black vase was never broken. Maybe one day she would rage out her anger, today was not that day. If nothing else, she got some much needed sleep, which was probably better than any rage therapy any day.


((PP of Blackwood approved by me, his human))

Alice looked down at the globe, now containing gold, like a web, holding the pieces together. Maybe it was a bit beautiful, she didn’t know. She didn’t feel beautiful. She felt… almost numb. Had the rage room actually helped? Honestly, she didn’t know. Probably not.

All she could think about was Everleigh and if her sister was okay. She was supposed to be in this class, but hadn’t shown – at least not before she entered the room. Once she was free to go, Alice opened the door and looked around. She spotted Professor Blackwood, and he pointed at the blue door.

So Alice sat down and waited for her sister to emerge, holding her sphere, but she never did. She frowned, her eyes glued to the door handle. The second it moved, she would jump up and check on her sister to make sure the girl was okay.

Ever was the pottery, the thing that had fallen to pieces on the ground. But could she be mended? Alice really hoped so, but something within her told her that she couldn’t, that she would always be this empty husk of a person.

She really wished she could move into Ravenclaw for the time being. Or that Everleigh could move into Hufflepuff. Something, because she didn’t feel like she could help much being so far away most of the time.