a decent class (rebecca and linda!)

[MONA CHARBONNEAU!]

It was approximately three o' clock, maybe five or ten minutes past that even. The worn and old clock in the Arithmancy room always ran a few minutes fast, which was not purposeful which some of the students claimed. The professor, maybe it be Ms. Charbonneau or Mr. Vector from the past, had their own clock on a desk which would make the sound of a bell ringing when the class was over. They also were able to use this as a timer for the required timed lessons three times a week; the small clock had more uses than its bigger cousin could ever have wished for. A new period was beginning and the currently professor of the long-winded subject, Mona Charbonneau, was writing on the chalkboard the numbers one to nine. This being the beginning of the year, autumn leaves blowing about and some even reaching her seventh-floor room, this was to be a basics lesson for today. Arithmancy was not as difficult as many thought; it just involved adding and subtracting different numbers to determine another set list of numerical values.

Noticing that students were entering the classroom and sitting in seats that were obviously closest to their friends, an enchanted quill on her desk began scribling down their names as they sat down, making a quick seating chart to be enforced the next day. The last thing Mona wanted to do was scare off potential students by being too strict. When all the seats were filled, she found that to be a surprise herself, Mona stood beside her green slate chalkboard, a calm expression on her face.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," she said strongly, to grab their attention away from their friends and possibly enemies sitting in the same room, "My name is Professor Charbonneau, and the class that I teach is called Arithmancy. It is the use of numbers to analyze names of places, things; even people. Now, on the board here I have the numbers one to nine listed. The method of analysis I am going to teach you first is called the Agrippan method..." With that, she began to create a chart, writing letters underneath the numbers.

ooc: this link will help you out!

[linders]

The Slytherin wasn't in the mood to go to class. She rarely, if ever, was. Especially when the class she had to trudge to was Arithmancy. Linda hated that class with a passion. Complicated charts, mathematics, and an ancient Professor weren't alluring her to the class, either. Honestly, if one could make it just as complicated but a tad more interesting then she might just pay attention. Potions was interesting because one had to pay attention or one's cauldron would explode or the potion would turn out terribly wrong, herbology was exciting because the plants could be extremely dangerous, transfiguration was enticing because it was fun to change things into something completely random. The worst thing about Arithmancy was there was nothing to engage her in the subject and the worst result of not paying attention was a bad grade and Linda could usually manage to scrape E's without even studying. So what was the point in paying attention? There was none, in her humble opinion.

She walked into the classroom, looking none too enthralled and to her disgust she was one of the first people there. She hated being first because everyone assumed that made one want to be the teacher's pet and that certainly wasn't the case, in the least. She huffed as someone murmured 'teacher's pet', honestly, they ought to know better. She kept her sharp tongue silent, at least, for the moment for it wasn't her intention to get a detention before the class even started. She found herself to a seat way in the back of the room because she had no intention of learning much. She was sure that there wouldn't be anything taught in this classroom that she couldn't pick up from the subject's book. She sincerely hoped she was wrong, but rather doubted it.

Now, usually Linda was quite respective of teachers, it was true. But she couldn't help but snort when the teacher mentioned the name of her class. Well, duh! Obviously they were there for a reason, what was the point in mentioning the name of the class? Was anyone so mundane that they didn't know what class they should be in? She should hope not being at the ages of sixteen or seventeen respectfully. So, the potion master's daughter observed the professor with bored eyes. Honestly, could she be anymore pathetic? Well, perhaps, she didn't really want to know the answer to that. For she assumed the answer would be yes. She didn't like this woman and the lesson had barely begun, but she knew that she didn't. The girl folded her arms imperiously, blue-green eyes dancing malevolently as she pushed a strand of thick black hair from her quill. She sincerely doubted she'd get any worthwhile notes in this class, but there was always that small rare fleeting chance that she might; so it was best to keep her quill out, just in case.

This woman clearly took herself far too seriously. She could tell that right off the bat. From the way the woman carried herself to the words that came pouring out of the woman's mouth like rain. Except this wasn't the sweet warm rain that lovers kissed in, but the stinging noxious cold rain that left welts on the skin. This woman was annoying and Linda didn't appreciate her presence in the least. She would've said so, too, but she figured that it was far too early in the lesson to be getting into trouble. Especially considering the woman hadn't started anything yet and also taking into account she might not have appreciated the girl's snort. But Linda couldn't help herself. Why would anyone waste their breath on announcing what class a body of students had stepped into. If they stepped into the wrong classroom, that would be made obvious within five minutes of the lesson, no? She quite thought so. So she wasn't impressed, in the least, at the moment. Her blue-green eyes scanned the classroom for a familiar face. She needed to have someone to look forward to seeing in the class or else she might stop coming entirely. Though, that wouldn't impress her parents. In fact, if she had to come only to please her parents she thought that might be pathetic.

Her father was a perfectionist. He had been brilliant and while she was quite intelligent, she thought that sometimes Severus pushed her far too hard. She wished that he could be happy with whom she was and what she was already and not expect so much from her. After all, she was simply a girl in this world. She wasn't super woman as much as she would like to pretend she was, sometimes. But she was strong, she never broke under her father's pushing and goading, though, sometimes she wished that she could take his eyes out with her long nails she knew that the consequences for such an action would be dire - thus she would never attempt to do that. She did love her father, but she had to admit that more often than not he could be an exceptionally annoying nag. Though, not half as annoying as her mother who she yearned to push off a cliff every time she was unfortunate enough to have to endure the woman's presence. The only good thing the woman had done was bore her for Merlin's sake.

She saw the numbers on the board and she decided that she'd entertain herself with trying to figure out the method herself with the aid of her book. She didn't want to have to rely on the woman standing in front of the classroom. Especially considering she didn't like the woman. She pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote the words, Linda Snape. Nothing profound considering it was merely her name. She found through a lot of page flipping and calculations that her character number was five whilst her heart and social numbers were both seven. She hated to admit it, but now she was curious as to what that meant. She wanted to look in the book, but figured she ought to keep an ear open in case the professor wanted them to complete some assignment or answer some stupid question. She lowered her quill, and tapped the feather impatiently against her face, wondering if she would be in trouble already simply for playing around. If that were the case, she would be very vexed but also very amused.

[becca]

It had been an early morning and Becca was already a little tired. She rolled her eyes at some of the things that were being taught. She already studied ahead of time and already knew all of the information. She would always raise her hand and people would groan when they heard her. Whatever… she didn’t care at all about what they thought of her. Becca smirked as she got ready for her next class. Arithmancy. It was supposedly a hard class, but for her, it wasn’t that much. She would’ve painted her nails in the common room as she usually did, but she realized that she was late for the class. It wasn’t that unusual though. Personally, she didn’t care whether she missed it or not. She was able to keep up with the class without even attending.

Becca shrugged and got up from her seat on the couch to start going to class. She knew she’d later on pay for it, but for now, it didn’t matter too much. Her lips pressed into a form of a thin sneer as she walked through the hallways. The younger children all knew of her reputation, or something similar to it. The only thing they needed to get about her was that her temper was nasty. Becca opened the door to the classroom, just in time to hear the professor’s name. The woman who was teaching the class has a thin face and had an almost elegant thing to her. She also seemed to think that her subject was most important. She had heard that the professor was an impurity. What kind of git would let her teach?

She rolled her brown eyes at the thought and saw that all the seats were filled. Bloody h***. She tapped someone on the shoulder, the girl who was sitting next to Linda Snape and gestured her to get out. Becca wasn’t in the mood for playing nice right now. She just wanted to get this class over with. The girl was in the same year as the Ravenclaw, but even she knew that it was probably easier to just to follow the simple gesture. Becca sat down as the girl tried to find another seat to occupy. “Hey,” she greeted the seventh year. The two were acquantices and their friendship was more neutral that it was anything else.

The sixteen year old was about to take notes when she almost scoffed at what the professor was teaching them or rather how she was teaching it. Her voice was rather annoying and even she could see that she thought too much of herself. Becca sighed and tapped her quill against the table. She glanced over to the Slytherin only to see that she was also bored out of her mind. What to do, what to do… She smirked at the thought. “Could this be any more boring,” she muttered and let her mind drift off to some other though.

[MONA CHARBONNEAU!]

Mona completed the chart within a minute of her naming the method of arithmancy, with the letters a, j, and s under the number one, b, k, and t under number two, and so forth. Her handwriting was elegant, with curving strokes in printing. She was fond of cursive and believed that it was the best way to write, but the rest of the teachers at Hogwarts thought otherwise and wouldn't teach it that way. Why, Mona didn't think that any of her students would be able to recognize a capital letter Q in cursive if it depended on their lives that they did so. Turning around from her blackboard, Mona noticed that one of her students had been moved from their seat by a tardy Ravenclaw. She found that to be rather odd; most Ravenclaws were known to be a punctual sort who wanted to be the first in the room and in the from of the class. With a flick of her wrist another desk appeared in an empty portion of the classroom for the ousted girl to take a seat. Not being a pureblood did not mean that Ms. Charbonneau was magically inept. On the contrary, Mona was skilled in a wide variety of charms and hexes, all learned at a school she considered superior; Beauxbatons. Without the distractions of house rivalries, she found that her classmates and her took the information in more like a sponge instead of a rock. With that flick she took had her quill write something down; most likely the name of the student who kicked the other out of their seat. Being tardy and pressuring? That was a detention, for sure.

"Now, I am aware that some of you have already read the books assigned and know how the rest of the process works. But, for those who may not quite understand, I will use my name as an example. Now, some of you may notice that I am using my middle name in the function; in my experience I have found that this provides a more accurate result" To the right of her chart and on the top, the elder woman wrote "Mona Jane Charbonneau" in neat printing. She did not mind giving her out her full name; she had to power to protect herself from curses of that variety.

"My name, according to the chart derived from the Agrippan method, can be transposed into this numerical function." As she spoke, she wrote down the numbers '4651 1155 38192655513'. Turning back from the slate once more, she noticed that two students near the side of her classroom were looking bored out of their skulls. One of them being the girl who kicked another out of their chair so she wouldn't be marked late. It was normal for kids to find this subject to not be the most exciting, but she already knew that these two might be a problem for her later on.

"Ms. Nott," Mona said calmly, yet strong enough so that the girl in her boredom could hear her, "Do tell me; what are the three functions derived from the original and what do they supposedly predict?"

[linders]

The Slytherin had never enjoyed this class. It was one of those classes that everyone who was intelligent was forced to go to, but never really wanted to. It was pretty pointless and mundane. She would rather be back in the Slytherin dormitory doing something productive like getting her Charms essay done or experimenting with the potion that she had done in the previous class to see if she could improve upon it and create something entirely new. She liked experimenting with things. Very much so. She wasn't stupid enough to go blow herself up like some blood traitor's mother. She rolled her eyes at the thought of Luna Lovegood. The girl was just plain weird. She didn't know how anyone could tolerate that insanity. She knew that she would try to hex it out of the woman.

Linda couldn't believe the audacity of some people. Sure, she and Rebecca were friendly, but the seventh year Slytherin was not in the mood for anyone's nonsense. Not that she ever was, naturally. She haughtily found herself a new seat, though, not wishing to cause a scene but she was a bit irritated with the girl's conduct. "Hey," she murmured, though, her tone was a bit more calloused than it normally would have been. She was the daughter of Severus Snape surely that gave her more presidency over a Nott, no matter if she had veela blood in her or not. Though, no one looked too surprised at her tone. She was always sarcastic, bitter, and caustic. Her tongue more often than not was used as a sword to slay and shatter egos. She loved seeing people cry. Especially adults that should have known better. Adults that should know that sticks and stones were to break one's bones but words should never hurt them. She scoffed at such a notion. That was very untrue. She knew very well that words could wound more deeply than physical abuse which is why she enjoyed emotionally tormenting her peers so much - especially the Gryffinwhores because she wanted to see how far she could push them before they snapped mentally. She loved experimenting with things and this included her classmates, unfortunately, for them. They never seemed to like her goading or cold unpleasant words too much, but that wasn't surprising. What was surprising was when the twits thought they could beat her at her own game. Her father was the king of sarcasm and she was quite clearly the princess.

The teacher wrote in cursive, which of course, was Linda's preferred style of writing. She didn't understand why other professors didn't write in cursive. Honestly, did they believe that the students were incapable of reading? She hated being mollycoddled by anyone. Then again, some teacher's print was horrible to read - it might be deciphering hieroglyphics should some of them convert to writing in cursive. But still, the Slytherin preferred the elegant strokes of the quill, chalk, or whatever other medium a body could have. It was beautiful in a way to observe that style as opposed to a boring "b", "c" or "d" written plainly on a chalkboard in the usual style. She liked things that were above the mark or usual standard. To her it meant that the person cared.

Though, she knew not why any professor should care about a bunch of snot nosed brats in the classroom. Regrettably, she noted the Professor noticed Nott's actions. This simply embarrassed her more than anything else, but she took it in stride. If anyone dared to mock her then she would simply hex them into oblivion. It shouldn't be hard. Most of them were so mindless that they might be swept away in merely two waves of her wand. She wouldn't be so surprised if that were truly the case. Why was she always surrounded by a bunch of dunderheads? Idiots annoyed her. They truly did. She wished that they occupied their own planet so that she would never ever have to deal with them ever again. It was a nice thought to entertain even if she knew that notion would never exist. There were too many idiots in the world, they seemed to frequent everywhere a body went.

She flipped through her book as the Professor went on, even trying her own middle name, but she found that without her middle name - that's when it was accurate for her. For she recognized her personality in the first reading but not the second. She had read the meaning of both numbers she had received and they seemed to fit better than the numbers she received when she tried to fit Eileen into her name. Without her middle name she was defined with the following: Five is the number of instability and imbalance, indicating change and uncertainty. Fives are drawn to many things at once but commit to none. They are adventurous, energetic and willing to take risks. They enjoy travel and meeting new people but may not stay in one place very long. Fives can be conceited, irresponsible, quick-tempered and impatient. Not to mention the two sevens she had received defined her as, Perceptive, understanding, and bright, sevens enjoy hard work and challenges. They are often serious, scholarly, and interested in all things mysterious. Originality and imagination are more important than money and material possessions. Sevens can also be pessimistic, sarcastic, and insecure. This seemed to fit her better than her second reading. She tapped her foot impatiently. The woman's voice was getting on her nerves, though, she knew that the woman couldn't help but have the voice that she had it didn't make the voice less annoying in any degree.

Linda knew the question wasn't directed towards her but she decided to figure it out anyway. She had nothing better to do anyways and she was bored out of her bloody skull. The Professor had the character number of four and the heart and social numbers of two. Which meant that the prediction for this professor was Like a table that rests solidly on four legs, four indicates stability and firmness. Fours enjoy hard work. They are practical, reliable and down to earth; they prefer logic and reason to flights of fancy. They are good at organization and getting things done. Like the cycle of the four seasons, they are also predictable. They can be stubborn, suspicious, overly practical and prone to angry outbursts. The conflicts possible in "two" are doubled in four. and Two represents interaction, two-way communication, cooperation, and balance. Twos are imaginative, creative, and sweet natured. Peace, harmony, commitment, loyalty, and fairness are characteristic. But two also introduces the idea of conflict, opposing forces, and the contrasting sides of things: night and day, good and evil. Twos can be withdrawn, moody, self-conscious and indecisive. Linda tried hard not to yawn. She wanted nothing more than to sleep at the moment, that's how mundane this class was getting to be. She looked over her shoulders at the other students in the classroom. Some looked as bored as she did whilst others had looks of deep concentration or confusion written on their faces. She buried her face into her book when her gaze fell upon a boy that looked constipated. It was taking all that was within her not to laugh and mock him openly in the middle of class. She wondered if he knew the expression on his face. She highly doubted it.