Post by Hebron James on May 23, 2011 19:29:24 GMT -8
Of all the days to need an arithmancy book... Andrew sighed as he strode down the hallway. He needed a specific reference on the probability of multivariable bell curve overlap. The whole subject was slightly beyond him. He passed, of course, when he was in school, but that doesn't mean that he cared to remember it beyond what he needed for work.
Now, though, he had to demonstrate to the fourth year class the theoretical planning of greenhouse population and breeding schematics, and that only was comprehensible at higher levels with a bit of math. He smirked and pardoned himself mentally, correcting his thoughts to arithmancy. Math was for muggles. Numbers had their own magic, and only a skilled wizard could discern their fluttering dance. His old professor had truly drilled the mantra into his brain. Bastard.
The other professor's dorm wasn't too far from his own, but Andrew had spent the morning transplanting Choir Orchids. They were less obnoxious before dawn, and he was always a morning person anyway. He knocked politely. The sound went unanswered, so he knocked again, slightly harder.
"Milo, chap...you in there? I need to borrow that book I mentioned over breakfast the other day...Milo? You said you were here!" He knocked again, keenly aware that he was tlaking with a raised voice at a door. Paintings were staring at him. A Rubenesque woman giggled at him and hid a smile behind a fan. Did the portraits know something funny was aobut to occur? Andrew keenly hoped he wasn't going to be the butt of a joke or prank.
Now, though, he had to demonstrate to the fourth year class the theoretical planning of greenhouse population and breeding schematics, and that only was comprehensible at higher levels with a bit of math. He smirked and pardoned himself mentally, correcting his thoughts to arithmancy. Math was for muggles. Numbers had their own magic, and only a skilled wizard could discern their fluttering dance. His old professor had truly drilled the mantra into his brain. Bastard.
The other professor's dorm wasn't too far from his own, but Andrew had spent the morning transplanting Choir Orchids. They were less obnoxious before dawn, and he was always a morning person anyway. He knocked politely. The sound went unanswered, so he knocked again, slightly harder.
"Milo, chap...you in there? I need to borrow that book I mentioned over breakfast the other day...Milo? You said you were here!" He knocked again, keenly aware that he was tlaking with a raised voice at a door. Paintings were staring at him. A Rubenesque woman giggled at him and hid a smile behind a fan. Did the portraits know something funny was aobut to occur? Andrew keenly hoped he wasn't going to be the butt of a joke or prank.