| Poltergeist
Join Date: Jul 2011 Location: Gallifrey
Posts: 38,050
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|  *Waves to everyone else* Sassenach | RAVENPUFF | Sing me a song of a lass that is gone | bookDRAGON | #awkwardturtle<#
At the headmistresses smile, Art grinned back. Nice and big. "Th-thankyou. I uhh... I hope you are well?" Hmm? If not, then he would happily see her to the Healer. No use being sick at the feast.
The person his mind had called a fellow golden oldie had leapt out of his chair. Art had spotted the suddenness in his periperhal vision, and his head swung in that direction. Art smiled as the man approached. He squinted through his glasses, in thought, his hand tapping at his chin. "Arthur Newman... Newman... New-man... no, I don't remember him." That was a shame. Who was Arthur Newman anyway? "Er... hi, though... I'm-I'm Art. Newton. Well, Arthur, but you can... ohhhhhhhh," he said. "Me? It's Newton, not Newman. Only two letters wrong though," he chuckled, quite impressed at this man's memory. But it was all coming back. Yes. The smile. He held his hand out to shake the man's hand. He could not recall, for the life of him, what this man's name was. No matter how much he tapped his chin, squinted, and looked at the man. The name, blank. The face? Yes, he remembered it. "I was, yes," he said with another chuckle. "Ohh right, right, cleverst kid! That-that's quite, uh... quite an accomplishmnt. I was probably... probably bravest and clumbsiness. Not... not uh... not the best cobination." No. Too many broken bones to think about. White haired fellows, eh? Art started laughing at that, reaching a hand up and touching his own head of white hair. "Ah yes, we certainly do. What-What do you teach?" He was feeling a bit out of the loop, not quite knowing who these people were. He hadn't quite spotted the seat the man had come from, so he couldn't narrow it down. Well, perhaps the first half of the alphabet of classes, actually. But that was still half of the classes he could have taught.
He was gazing around the table, catching a few eyes (Roderik). Art waved, and, deciding it might be a good idea to get to know his colleagues, he approached the man. "Hello," he said with a head bobbing nod. After a few seconds he raised his hand to shake the man's hand. "Art. Newton. Arthur Newton. Uh... I'm new here. Well, alumni. Bit before your time," he said with a chuckle to himself.
Art remembered that he had said it was good to see Ansley again, so he knew he didn't need to say it again. No. "Er, it found me here," he nodded, thankful. He wasn't sure what help he would have been if it had conked out half way there. "I managed to-to be seated in a compartment of-of-of very young students," he frowned with a nod. "They thought I was old." He thought about that for a while. Art wasn't old, but he did wear his salt coloured hair with pride. "Oh! How was your ride?" he asked, realising that it was the right thing to say in reply.
Right, back to his neighbour (Nana). "Who... are you? I believe," he thought a moment, "Transfiguration is what you teach?" The moving in his pocket had stopped, which meant Madame Curie was now asleep. Good, the poor thing had had an exciting day, what with being on a train, and meeting new people. She would probably sleep right through until morning.
He waved at the other Professors around him, or... faculty. He was sure somewhere in this bunch were three members who didn't teach. He didn't know who they were though. Well, he didn't really know who anyone was. And there was a... what on earth was she? Not only did her cackle wake up poor Madame Curie, who started moving around in his pocket, but she had frightened Art as well. "Great Scott..." he muttered. And then the old hag, if he were to call her that, pulled out a bottle and promptly started spraying it. One inhale caught in his throat and he started coughing, but trying to catch his breath was no easy task. Every inhale brought about another fit of coughing. "EXCUSE ME?" he said to the old had. "I have... s-sensitive lungs. As do-do-do... well maybe... maybe the other students too." He didn't know. Childhood asthma, if that was a thing amongst magical students, was a serious issue. He took out a litle vial from his pocket and drank it. Right down the hatch. But not only was he sensitive, his little rat-baby was too. He pulled Madame Curie out of his pocket, and tipped the last drop onto his finger, letting her lick it off. "It's okay, I won't let her near you." Squeak squeak. "I promise."
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