#mr sam

Dire Crowley:

"So, you've come seeking my assistance, have you?" The cool voice of the headmaster calls from his desk.

You hesitate. You really didn't want to be doing this. But you had no other choice. If you were going to be stuck here in this strange other world, you were going to need all the help you could get.

"Yes sir. I am looking for assistance on the correct path of study. Surely you may have some idea of what I should pursue?" You explain, the words feeling awkward in your mouth. Who would have ever guessed you'd be looking for advice on what direction of learning you should pursue at a magic school?

The headmaster chuckles as he stares at you from his desk. You almost want to flinch back. Something about him can be rather unsettling. But you still manage to hold firm.

"Well, you could always start by learning magic first!" Crowley let out a bark of raucous laughter. 

You scowl at his attempt at humor. You were sick and tired of people constantly giving you crap for the fact that you didn't know magic. It's not like you could help it! You came from a world without magic! Why anyone would expect you to be good at it, let alone have it, is absurd! And you were not about to let Headmaster Crowley make you feel bad again for not having a natural affinity for magic. 

"Sir, it's not my fault your mirror system plucked me from my magicless world and brought me here. Now, I came here to legitimately ask for your assistance. If you don't want to help me, fine. But you don't need to insult me while I'm trying to make the most of a rather wretched experience."

You watch him flinch back due to your words. You didn't mean to offend him, but you also weren't going to take that kind of cruel teasing lying down. You've done enough of that already.

He straightens up in his chair and adjusts his waistcoat. "I see. Well, um, I might be able to offer some suggestions based on things that you like or are interested in."

Well, it was a start. You begin to describe some of your interests that you had back at home in your own world. It's bittersweet, as you enjoy discussing things you like but understanding that it seems you can never go back to that. Still, as you mentioned, you are going to make the most of the time you have here, no matter how much it is.

Crowley, in his attempt to be helpful, actually does try to assist you. He scratches out a couple of suggestions onto a scroll of courses to take. He talks about what some of the alumni have done with their lives following graduation. He tactfully skips over those born to high-ranking families or are surrounded by prestige, offering them a leg up in the world. You're surprised that he genuinely has some good ideas.

When your conversation is through, you take the scroll from him and glance over the suggestions once more. It's not much, but it's a start. And that's all you were asking for: a start.

Looking at him, you give a small nod. "Thank you, sir."

He nods back. As you turn to leave, he calls out to you. "I do have faith in you. I believe you can make the most of your time here at Night Raven College. You have ambition and determination. Both traits will get you very far."

You can't help but feel touched by his words. So giving him a confident smile, you nod again. "I'm sure you're right."

Crowley chuckles. "Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

You give him a playful scowl before slipping out of his office.

Divus Crewel:

"No, no, no, you're doing it all wrong again." Professor Crewel snaps at you. 

You swallow your scowl as you pause your movements for him. "What now?"

"You're stirring the pot counterclockwise. It should be clockwise." He scoffs, as if that should be the most obvious thing in the world. "You're going to blow this place up if you keep making foolish mistakes like that, little pup."

You can feel your eye twitch at his words, and you toss your spoon down. Professor Crewel does not tolerate mistakes of any kind. That you understand completely. But the way he goes about is always so cruel. You're still a student. You're still learning.

"Then by all means, Professor. Show me how it's done." You gesture to the cauldron still simmering before you.

He raises an eyebrow at you, arms folded over his chest. "Don't be like that, little pup. You can do this. You're just not trying hard enough. Now, try again."

You grit your teeth. "Obviously I can't do it because every time I try, you tell me I'm doing something wrong. I came looking for help when it came to potionology. I thought you would be able to explain where I'm going wrong. But it seems you just want to tell me I'm terrible at everything without offering any assistance whatsoever."

Professor Crewel sighs and shakes his head. "I am helping you, just not in the way you want me to. Students need to learn by doing, by making mistakes. I am only here to guide you, which I have been doing. You will fail and make mistakes, but that means you're one step closer to finding the right solution. When you find it on your own, that information sticks in your brain better. So if you're trying to get me to do all of the work, little pup, you've got another thing coming."

All protests and frustrations die on your lips at his words. He's not wrong and you know it. Though it wasn't your intention for him to do all of the work, it was what you were doing. You wanted him to hold your hand through the entire assignment. And that's not how someone learns.

With a sigh, you picked up the spoon and began to stir the potion the correct way. You kept a close eye on Professor Crewel, keeping a watch at his expressions as you work. The slightest look of disapproval and you correct what you are working on. You're not about to fail this assignment just because you weren't willing to learn.

Eventually, after hours of work, you finally have something to present to him. He takes the vial in hand and tests the product. He lets out a low hum.

"Well, well, little pup. You certainly tried your best."

You could feel yourself deflate at his words. It was wrong. You didn't do it right. You completely messed up again. As you begin to wallow in your self pity, you feel him pat you on the head. 

"Good job."

"Really?" You perk up.

Professor Crewel chuckles and nods. "Yes. Good work. You're finally starting to get the hang of it. I'm proud of you."

His words had you beaming for the rest of the day.

Ashton Vargas:

You didn't think you were scared of heights. However, you also never would have thought in a million years you'd be dumped in a magic school where you would be expected to fly a magic broom. So, really, you shouldn't be surprised that you found out you were afraid of heights.

Coach Vargas narrows his eyes when you refuse to get on your broom. "C'mon kid! I don't have all day! Just get on, fly around a bit, and get off. It's not that hard!"

You purse your lips and clutch the broom tighter to your chest. He says it like it's no big deal. Just get on and get off. Easy. But it wasn't easy. Not to you. How could you be sure this broom wouldn't just randomly take off like a rocket? How could you know that you wouldn't be flung off and hurt. You shake your head a little.

He scowls as he walks up to you. "C'mon! You can't seriously be afraid of a little ole broom now, can you? That would just be pathetic!"

A frown tugs at your lips and your back straightens up as you face him. "I am not afraid of the broom!"

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"Of falling! Of getting hurt! Of things not going the way they should!" You shoot back before shrinking into yourself. You clutch the broom tighter, as if it'll take off right now, with or without you.

Coach Vargas looks you up and down, and then lets out a sigh. "Get on the broom."

"But-"

"Just do it." He shot back. "I'll be right here in case you fall."

Your eyes widen at his words. You didn't think Coach Vargas would ever offer to do something like that. He was always such a tough guy, someone who didn't have time for laziness or weakness. And yet, here he was, offering to make sure you stay firmly on your broom. Though you won't ever admit it, the sentiment did make you feel a little braver.

Taking a deep breath, you get on the broom. You wait for it to shoot up into the air like a rocket, but it doesn't move. Your feet are still on solid ground. You glance at Coach Vargas for what to do next.

"Now just kick off of the ground and hover." He says, as if it's easy, as if it's normal. "Just do it carefully, alright? Nice and easy."

Your pulse quickens and you feel like you might die, but you do as he instructs. Carefully, just like he said, you kick off from the ground. The broom lifts, your feet leave the ground, and you hover about five feet in the air. You're still holding onto the broom for dear life, but at least you're not going anywhere.

Coach Vargas reaches up to touch the top of the broom. He gives you an encouraging smile. "Relax, kid. You're doing just fine. It's okay to be skittish and worry about falling, but you'll never know if you can do something if you don't try. I'm giving you an A for effort for today. Soon enough, you'll be flying circles around this school!"

You can't help but smile back, your grip slightly easing on the broom. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps you could get the hang of this flying thing after all.

Mr Sam:

The bell to Mr Sam's Shop jingled over the door. You storm into the cozy little store and stop through the different aisles, gathering what you need. All the while, you're grumbling under your breath.

The curtain separating the front from the back room sways, and Mr Sam appears. When he sees who's in his shop, he grins wide. 

"Well, hey there kiddo! What brings you to my neck of the woods?" You scowl at him, which has him raising his eyebrow. "My, what an icy greeting. Are you going to tell me why?"

"Stupid Professor Trein making us do a stupid project for the stupid mid-term with stupid visuals over stupid stuff that I don't care about because it's all so stupid!" You snap as you finish gathering your supplies.

Mr Sam snickers. "Ah, a school project. I remember those days. Well, are you sure you have everything? Professor Trein is very particular when it comes to his mid-terms."

You scowl. "If I don't, he can get over himself. This is stupid! I don't even know why I have to learn about this stuff or do these projects anyways! I'm not even from here!"

Raising an eyebrow. Mr Sam begins to check out all of the items you're purchasing from his store. "Is that right? Well, you may not be from here, but that doesn't mean you can just not do your work. You don't know when or if you're going home. So why not take advantage of where you're at? I mean, from what you say about your home, it's not that exciting. Not like here. So learn about it. Enjoy your time and, who knows, maybe you'll find that this project isn't so bad after all."

You grumble under your breath. Unfortunately, he has a point. And it annoys the hell out of you that he does. Instead of answering him, you grab your bag of money to pay him.

He holds a hand out to stop you. "I don't think you're done shopping yet."

"Huh?"

Mr Sam gestures to everything in front of him. "Hello? Where's your study snacks?"

You try to scowl at him, but the corner of your mouth keeps tugging upwards. "I don't have enough money for snacks. Besides, I have enough food back at the dorm that I could probably make something. At least, I think I do."

"And that right there is why I can't let you leave just yet." Mr Sam points an accusatory finger in your direction. He then saunters off into the food section of his store. You watch as he picks up a few snacks, some sweet and some savory. He also grabs a few drinks to wash it all down with.

When he returns. you try to scrounge up the extra thaumarks to pay him. However, he stops you again.

"Absolutely not. Study snacks are vital for any major project, especially when it has the word "mid-term" in front of it. These are on me."

You raise an eyebrow at him. That wasn't like him, to just give food away for free. "Really?"

He smirks. "Really. I'll just have you do some extra work here and there to pay me back."