Cutty rubbed the mustachioed face of Barty Crouch Snr. The old picture was looking it's age, but Cutty had held onto it for modeling purposes. Or maybe for idol worshiping purposes because once he's stuck it onto the wall in its usual place above a small, melted candle covered shelf giving it that touch of Mother-We-Need-Something-To-Do-Afterschool. After affixing both items to the wall above what was to be his bed, Cutty dug out a rolled shiny paper and began to unroll it. It revealed a well-rendered image of a muggle lady laying down upon a bed painted all in gold and a bushy-browed muggle gentleman gripping a muggle firearms weapon. Right beneath the muggle gentleman and gold lady in big, bold, red letters it said: GOLDFINGER

Obviously an advertisement of some kind, Cutty hung it up next to his Barty Crouch picture and placed a charm on it so that whatever was written upon the posters would actually appear on the writers face. Something he'd done on accident when experimenting with Protean charms. He'd also jinxed the small nightstand by his bed. He was getting better at those at an alarming rate. He even managed to exempt his Head of House and Professor Bellaire from the effects of it. It would be unpleasant to have to witness them both walking around with Barty Crouch mustaches and in Bellaire's case it would be a crime. He'd always thought her pleasant to look at, but for some reason she stood out ever more this year. Perhaps a symbol of grown-upness as he'd be of age very soon. Caleb and Sophie and then him.

Cutty packed a bag and headed out for the lake. It was time.

8th of October, 2086. Ethan’s finally of age. Coming all the way from the Owlery, the seventeen year old entered their dorm room, and darted towards his bed where he carelessly collapsed face down. The Slytherin basked in the silence for a moment as he replayed the message of his father in his head. It was quite an unusual move from the man to be honest, but Ethan was very happy nonetheless. Aldrich had sent him a black wristwatch—the traditional gift given to magical children to commemorate the disappearance of the Trace.

Ethan became aware of the ticking sound coming from his wrist a few good minutes after he plopped down on his bed. He turned to get up and examined his gift, a grin plastered on his face. Sighing, he looked at Simon’s bed to summon his best friend’s ukulele, but was distracted by something else. The student publication named ‘The Quill’ was lying around Simon’s bed, and Ethan took the chance to read it. The seventeen year old flipped through the pages, and grinned at particular articles written by Sophie Brown, Ruby Banner, and Grayson Whitlock. They were his friends, and he was proud of them lot.

Ethan stood up to take the publication up towards the Study Room to read it further, but as soon as he did so, he got distracted with...Cutty’s setup. It looked like...a shrine of some sort to him. Ethan examined the bed across his, and sighted an all too familiar parchment on his bed. The Slytherin stepped towards Cutty’s large cot, and picked up a bunch of gossip papers. Ethan read through each sheet, and laughed out loud at the last publication. The Slytherin went back to his bed, plopped down on it and re-read the latest publications from the Quill and the Aparecium.

He was, well, VERY entertained, and he could definitely read all the bantering all day.

Rubbish......... rubbish.......... what in the name of Merlin was THIS?

Grayson was doing everything he could not to study. This included various activities like admiring his face, wandering around and annoying people and, now, cleaning his room. Yeah, he'd ran out of procrastination activities and this was what he was down to. It was a hard life, you know?

But currently, the Slytherin was holding up the ugliest shirt imaginable. It was probably a Christmas jumper from centuries ago that he was sure he'd thrown out. This one was green and had huge brown baubles all over it. Embarrassing or what? He had a funny feeling that his mother had something to do with this. It sounded like something she'd do.

So, forgetting all about the cleaning up, Grayson just held up the ugly jumper, a look of disgust on his face. He needed to get rid of this as quickly as possible. Burn it? Vanish it? Transfigure it into something else? Whatever worked, man, as long as it was GONE.

Toddles heards from other elfsies the snakies beds needs cleanings. Toddles cleans the beds yes Toddles does. Toddles moves his little feetsies down the stairs and begins to cleans. Toddles sees few masters but Toddles do not disturb them. No Toddles won't. Toddles is a good elf. Toddles does jobs. Toddles not want to upset Nimma.

Ethan flipped through The Quill again, and decided to try Sophie’s music spell. It was indeed interesting because he could get rid of Mordred’s gag gift, which was a muggle headphones that plays just one song: ‘I’m a Barbie Girl...in a Barbie WooooOOoorrrld. Wrapped in plastic! It’s fantastic!’. He found it funny and danceable when he was a third year student, but now, it just sounded ridiculous.

Well, maybe not if he and the rest of the senior boys decide to hold a pyjama party and turn their clothing in different shades of pink. Literally, everything.

The Slytherin snorted at the idea, and didn’t realize that Toddles had made his way to their room. Ethan did a double take as he peeked just above the material he was reading, and eyed the house elf. See? The creature’s doing his job, so they were not totally slacking with their duties. The seventeen year old rested on his back as he continued to read Sophie’s article. “Hey Tod,” Ethan started as he busied himself with the article. “I have a question for you...”

Hopefully, Toddles will give him a POSITIVE answer. Mhm!

Toddles cleans. Yes Toddles does. Toddles is a good elfs. Toddles needed to cleans this place. Studenties are busies. Studenties has no times to cleans. Toddles hears master callings him. Toddles turns and sees Master ask Toddles somethings. Toddles little ears perk up. "Yes Master? Toddles serves studenties yes Toddles does." Toddles bows to master.

It was time to test Sophie Brown’s spell. The music in his head was quite clear, and he had no trouble amplifying it with the new spell he learned. “Creo musica.” The boys’ dorm was filled with dance music and the sixth year Slytherin bopped his head along the beat. “So tell me, Toddles. Can you dance?” he asked as he placed his wand inside an empty water goblet, and sat on the edge of his bed. “Do you guys know how to dance?” He was…very curious.

Toddles hears Master use his stick. Studenties has lots of sticks in castle. Toddles not knows what it is. Toddles knows magic though. Toddles likies magic. Toddles hears Master cast spell. Toddles not know spell. Toddles hears things. Toddles hears music. Toddles little ears move up and down to hear the music. "Master?" Toddles asks. Toddles titls head at Masters request. "Oh no no no no. Toddles not knows. Toddles only serves studenties. Toddles be bad elfs if not do jobs.." Toddles still makes beds and does duties. Toddles is good elfs.

Toddles hears music and taps little foots. Toddles does like music. Yes Toddles does. "Toddles likes this.." Toddles looks at Master.

Ethan leaned forward, still bopping his head as he listened to Toddles explain. The sixth year could not help but chuckle. He’s just like Calen, Mordred’s personal house elf, minus the friendly disposition. No wonder the house elf and his cousin got along so well. “I’m sure you’re allowed to dance while cleaning, yes?” Pause, “Or while cooking?” He knows so because he dances while cooking.

And the tapping of the footsies didn’t go unnoticed! The compliment made the fair haired Mordaunt to stand up and stretch his arms. “Oh you like the music? It’s my current fave. Come on now, Toddles. I’ll teach you how to dance!” the house elf was already tapping his foot, and he said he liked the music so…what’s there to miss? “The steps are very easy…”

Toddles not knows masters request. Toddles not knows how to dance. "Toddles not knows how to dance master. Toddles tolds to works. Toddles does what Toddles is tolds to do's." Toddles nods. Toddles listens to Nimma. Toddles gets in trouble if he doesn't. Toddles taps footsies. Toddles likes music. Toddles not hears music before. Toddles hears master will teach Toddles dance. Toddles beams and tilts little head. "Steps master?" Toddles not knows.

Caleb was actually really excited for this whole history journal project thing. It was basically a history about HIM. He was getting points to talk about HIMSELF. Who WOULDN'T want to do that?! His story was an important one and he was finally getting a chance to tell it!

He sat down and picked the first prompt - his name - and got to work on his manuscript. His name was the easiest entry and therefore a good starting place for him. Biting his lip in concentration as he scribbled across the page, a few moments later he had already finished. Boom! One down, fourteen more to go...

SPOILER!!: Entry

My full name is Caleb Alexander Newell. I was named after my dad, whose name is also Caleb but he goes by Cale. Despite this, I am not technically a "junior" or "second" or anything like that. My dad's middle name is Markus, with the German spelling and everything, because his grandparents were all from Germany. My middle name comes from my grandfather, Alexander Greingoth. My uncle is also named Alexander. We like to keep male names in the family, apparently.

Still, dad still calls me "Junior" a lot, as a loving nickname. Other than that, though, I don't really have any nicknames. For a while my parents tossed around the idea of calling me Cale as well, but I hated it. Cale is my DAD. I am CALEB. Totally different.

That being said, I love my name. I think it suits me very well. When I look at myself in the mirror, I just FEEL like a Caleb. Had my name been something else- say Alexander - I just don't think it would fit. I wouldn't be as confident. Plus I want to make my dad - my namesake - proud that he named his first son after himself. I also like how you can't really tell where Newell is from, culturally speaking. It's French, and somehow my french ancestors made it over to Germany at some point and the rest is history.