Quote:
Originally Posted by
badger_boy_93 
Xerxes watched as the banjo reacted to the spell. But something wasn't quite right, or so he thought. He wasn't exactly sure what WAS supposed to happen, so he couldn't be entirely sure that it hadn't worked. But he just had a feeling that something more waited in store for him.
"What to do now?" he thought to himself. "Perhaps the instrument wasn't properly charged with starlight." Xerxes held the banjo up, high above his head. He let the face of the banjo stare up at domed, glass ceiling of the Astronomy classroom. He wanted the instrument to be able to absorb the light of far-distant stars and galaxies. He held this position for at least 10 minutes; long enough for the banjo to soak up as much stellar light as he thought it could hold.
Xerxes then placed the banjo back on the classroom floor and prepared himself to try the exercise again. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the same memory he had conjured up during his first attempt. Again, he let the memory wash over him and fill him up completely with the emotional resonance of the recollection. He then plucked the banjo string with his dominant hand, while with his non-dominant hand he pointed the wand at the instrument and whispered "Memorae Lucentia" clearly and delicately. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, letting the magic flow through him and concentrating on his task.
The stars, it seemed, had taken kindly to your persistence.
This time aurora was not merely decorative nor was it fleeting. Ribbons of soft rose gold and pale lavender coil like dream-silk around the banjo’s neck and drift toward your fingers. Then so faintly one could easily mistake it for imagination…a melody began to murmur from the instrument. Not a full song, but a suggestion of one: the opening of a lullaby perhaps, wistful and slow, like someone humming through a half-remembered tune. It did not last long, but it lingered in the air like the scent of something warm.
This was a success. A promising beginning, indeed.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
FearlessLeader19
Though she had been expecting something to happen, Krittika was still somewhat startled when the harp made that sound. It was not at all the heartwarming type a harp makes. There wasn’t much time for her to dwell on that because soon, her vision was obscured by bright red. The next thing she registered was the vibration of her desk and her textbook was suddenly sitting heavily on the floor. But the wisps, they way they contorted into something… creature-ish. Krittika felt the vast energy but it wasn’t the soothing type. There was something sinister? about this.
It was obvious that this memory wasn’t the best choice.
The Ravenclaw was considering a complete change in memory, definitely a happier one when she had a vision of Dio making an appearance. Yes, though she had been mad at him for stalking her and Justus, the immense relief, safety and extra affection she had felt for him she had laid eyes on him was unforgettable. In that moment, she had been reminded that he would always have her wellbeing at heart.
So, it was her boyfriend that Kritti focused on, and him rescuing her from a particularly sticky situation.
After some time, Kritti took a break to focus on Burbage’s words. Having now retrieved her textbook from the floor, she flipped through the pages before coming to a halt on today’s topic. While there was information on it in print, Burbage had far more insight which was why Kritti once again spent the time listening attentively. And making notes, of course.
Did she want to give this activity a go outside? Just give her some time to make up her mind. In the meanwhile, she checked on Hermy to see how she was coming along.
The first attempt at spell had worked, but magic does not always lend itself to tidy outcomes. You see, even well-pronounced spells can turn volatile when the memory fueling them carries unresolved emotion: resentment, fear, indignation. These feelings are not wrong—far from it—but they demand containment, maturity, and deeper magical focus to channel safely. Strong feelings are not the enemy, but they must be held gently. When you're uncertain, ask not how powerful the memory is, but how fully you understand it. This magic responds best not to raw force, but to clarity of heart. Perhaps a wise choice to pivot for this moment but worth a revisit at another time.
With this casting, the harp hums low and sweet. Not yet a full song, but a tone that trembled with meaning. The aurora blooms again, this time in deep indigo and copper hues, twining around the instrument like vines in moonlight. They glow steadily, warm enough to raise goosebumps on your arms, and then slowly fades—not in retreat, but in rest. This was alignment. Not just of memory and spell, but of intention and emotion.
* For a brief, shining moment, the two auroras—one copper and indigo, the other pale rose gold threaded with soft violet—met in the space between harp and banjo. They twist toward one another like curious dancers, unsure at first, then fold into each other with a shimmer that cracked and sang.
And then the sound begins.
It starts awkwardly—a pluck here, a trill there—like two instruments having a polite conversation in very different dialects. The banjo twangs, cheerfully oblivious, while the harp responds with an elegant sigh that sounds vaguely exasperated. But then comes the shift: rhythm found rhythm. The banjo’s bright, bouncing notes braid through the harp’s sweeping chords until the room fills with a bubbling, joyful symphony that somehow works despite itself.
It is funny. Unexpected. A bit like laughter at a formal ceremony. This is harmony born not from perfection, but from play and auroras birthed from likened sources of memory.