Crazymonkey’s Comments (group member since Sep 03, 2011)

Crazymonkey’s comments from the Training the Untrainable group.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2

It wasn't my fault,not really, but no one believed me.
One day, I was in the library reading a book for Charms. Then I ran across a really cool spell that when placed on several different identical things, played a song over and over.
The next Friday was Halloween, and I decided that an early-morning dose of "Thriller" was in order.
I found several identical small, completely ordinary pebbles and strategically placed them around the school, mainly in the dorms. I'd put around 5 amplifying spells on every pebble, so everyone would be able to hear.
At exactly 5:30 A.M on Halloween morning, a funky beat started playing. By the time Michael Jackson started the chorus, I was sitting in front of Professor Nutmeg's desk.
Apparently someone ratted me out. Despite the satisfaction I got from hearing "Thriller" all the way from the headmaster's office, I was bothered.
I had thought that I had been extremely discreet distributing the pebbles through the school, and I wanted to know who had caught me.Then, halfway through Professor Nutmeg's lecture about "responsibility", there was a knock on the door. In came Lena Franklin, the extremely blond( in both senses of the word), extremely nosy, extremely snobby Head Girl.
Long story short, form that moment on, we were enemies. I dyed her hair purple, she stole all 24 pairs of my blue and green striped knee socks. I took a picture of her kissing Jimmy Sorenson and plastered it x5 on the Great Hall ceiling. Typical teenage girl arch-enemy relationship.
Until one day, she took it too far. She started calling me Klepto Girl. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered me, except that she had recently stolen every single one of my lockpick wires.
Turns out, when she stole my socks, she found the secret pockets I'd sewn onto every single one of them for my lockpick wires. She later stole my wires, leaving my fingers twitching and itching for a lock to pick.
That was when I decided to let her have the best view of her life. I levitated her and her mattress right over the edge of the school. As you can guess, 700 floors is quite high up.
Due to some technical difficulties, she almost fell off. Turns out she was a sleepwalker. But who knew, right? Nevertheless, she was okay. However, I was just as far from okay as I was far from normal. I was expelled.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My first few years at U.S.S.W.W.N.Y were pretty boring, considering it was situated on the 700th floor of the Empire State Building.
It was mainly classes, comical heists,(mainly involving Professor Richard's toupee), a few confused kids looking for Greek gods,(never figured that out), and lots of time in Professor Nutmeg's( the headmaster's) office.
It wasn't until my fourth year that things started to get interesting.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I grinned at the three other occupants of my train compartment. They avoided my eyes, but I didn't care. It was probably my clothes.
When I saw what the school uniforms where, I had complained that they would class horribly with my socks. My mom just sighed, rolled her eyes and said, "Snick, everything clashes horribly with your socks.
"Hi!" one of the girls finally said."I'm Ashley, what's your name?"
I smiled. "Annika, but everyone calls me Snick."
"Why?"
"Because that's the sound a lock makes when you pick it." I grinned mischievously.

That morning, my mom had to threaten me with no breakfast to get me to get the mail. Not bothering to grab the keys, I stomped out the door and across the street to our neighborhood mailbox. I stuck my lockpick wires casually in, and twisted, and turned them for a moment, until the lock snicked and the little door popped open.
On top of the stack was a letter with a sticker on it that was the Empire State Building, except the spire on top was made of wood and had a handle. Weird. I turned it over. In purple ink it said.

Annika "Snick" Rhodes
1492 West Ct.
Radio Springs, NY

I tore it open and pulled ot the letter.
"Dear Ms. Rhodes,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the United States School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, New York...

(Snick)



Prologue

"Pfft, a little scare never hurt anyone."
Professor Nutmeg threw his hands up in the air."700 feet, Annika? Really?"
"She was asking for it!"
"What did she ever do to you?"
"She stole my socks."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1

Problem child. That's usually the very thing that pops into people's head's when they see me. I can see why. With my bright green highlights and mischievous blue eyes, I am instantly noticed. I've heard that my permanent knowing smirk and ever-present green and blue striped knee socks are slightly off-putting as well.
Do I care? Pfft,no. That label doesn't misrepresent me in the least. In fact, I rather like being the person that causes problems, or, as I call it, "makes things interesting."
From the moment I set eyes on a lock-pick wire in my dad's lab, I knew I had to find out how to use it. My Dad, a criminologist, was glad to teach me. In fact, he's taught me several tricks that have helped me in my various... activities.
One of them, pocket picking, became my second favorite pastimes. By the time I was 8 years old, my mom had taken to sewing very loud zippers on her pockets so that she always knew where her keys were.
Also, despite my eccentric appearance, I had an uncanny ability to blend into shadows. Stepping lightly was my specialty. Sometimes I could swear that I was floating millimeter off the ground.
Eventually, people started calling me "Snick," instead of Annika because when asked why I liked picking locks, I told them it was because I loved the "snick" sound it made. Also, it sounded a bit like my real name, Annika, so it was a perfect fit. After a few years, even my teachers called me that.
So, from the beginning I knew that I wasn't a "normal" child. However, it wasn't until a week after my eleventh birthday that I found out just how far from normal I was.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

It was in my fifth year after my latest Dragon Duty sentence was over. I was anxious to get back to my latest potion, one that, once completed, should make people fly; or, if I couldn't manage that, at least float safely down to the ground if falling. I hoped it would make people less nervous about flying dragons. I had just decided to add powdered dragon scale. It was a risk, and the potion would become quite unstable if the helibore juice wasn't added at precisely the right time. However, I decided it would be worth it to make the potion work. I had added everything else, and was sure this was the only way. Things were going well, and I had just added the dragon scale. It was almost time to add the helibore juice when Professor Richt burst in, yelling at me and trying to drag me away. I immediately reached for my Emergency abort, which would render the potion harmless. However, Richt grabbed my hand."Stop it right there. I'm not going to let you finish whatever stink bomb you've concocted this time!"
"That was an accident!" I protested. "This one is highly unstable! It'll explode if I don't put this in!"
"Ha! More likely it will explode if you do! Come on, we're going to the headmaster's office."
I checked my watch. It was too late. No matter what, it was going to explode.
"Let's get out of here!" I yelled as we rushed down the hall.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2

Richt thought I hated Dragon Duty, but only because everyone else did. Actually, it wasn't bad. Once I finished Dung-B-Gone, it became almost enjoyable. Smell-B-Gone made cleaning simple, a squirt of that, a drop of this, and voila! the stalls are clean. After I finished, I could stay with the dragons for a while. That's when I discovered that Powdered Dragon Scales have interesting effects on potions. They're also an important ingredient in Drago-Sleep, my calming potion for dragons. Over time, I learned a lot about dragons, especially their eating habits.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Poseidon)


Prologue
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I felt more than heard the explosion, as Professor Richt rushed me down the hall. "Interesting." I thought, "very little noise, could come in handy." We met Professor Fumblenob at the door of his office. Before he could even ask, both of us tried to explain at once.
"That boy-"
"I told him if he-"
"This is the final straw-"
"Enough!" the headmaster interrupted, then he turned to me."Poseidon, was that one of your potions?"
"Well, I-" at a look from Professor Fumblenob,I stopped."Yes."
"I'm afraid you've gone to far this time."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1

With a name like Poseidon you might think I'm Greek. You would be wrong. When you hear my last name, Chen, you might think I'm Chinese. Try again. I'm not Greek, not Chinese, not even Egyptian, as my middle name, Osiris, might suggest. I am, however, a wizard. I'm not particularly gifted, and all my grades have always been mediocre. The only thing I'm any good at is potions. Ever since I was little, I was good at putting strange things together in a way that turned out how I wanted. When you live high in the mountains, with nothing but some skinny rabbits, stoic piled herbs, and snow, you have to get creative. This was never a problem for me, fortunately. My specialty was stew. It always came out different, and was always good. When I went off to school at the Rockies Institute for Magical Education, it was only natural that I would be a potions master. However, that was before I met Professor S.T. Richt. He believes that if it's not what the book asks for, it isn't right. So when I started improving on the potions in the books, he started failing me! So, potions, at which I was the best, became my worst subject. Eventually, I managed to force myself to follow the instructions. I found another outlet. I started sneaking into the potions room at night to experiment. When I finished my invisibility potion, it became easier, but occasionally Professor Richt caught me. The punishment was always the same. Dragon Duty.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The summer between second and third year, I started thinking. What had become of the bazooka? Had my Dad thrown it away? That question was answered pretty quickly. When I found it, I decided to bring it to school. You're probably thinking I am crazy. But seriously, I was itching to blow something up. I barely got to on summer break, and never could at school. So I brought the bazooka.
So during my third year, every night I felt something should blow up, I shot it out the window. This happened quite often. Usually, I was trying to see how far I could shoot it. One evening, about halfway through the school year I was shooting it off, when I slipped and fell on my back. BAM! Everything went black. When I woke up, I was expelled.

Me and The U.S.S.W.W.W

I managed a whole year without blowing anything up. I had forgotten to bring any explosives from all the excitement. And although nobody wanted to be friends with me,I figured out the whole "Harry Potter" thing. Apparently, when the first book was spotted, the whole magical world went in a panic. Everyone was puzzled how a muggle, ( non-magical person) could have skimmed so close to our world with just her imagination. People would search far and wide for some witch or wizard who had known this J.K Rowling, and had spilled the beans. Eventually the uproar ended, and it was decided that it wasn't something to be worried about.
Some things were different though. Mostly it was the creatures that were off. There aren't actually dementors, or werewolves, or vampires. And there is no such thing as quidditch. When the books came out, people tried it, but it didn't work. One reason, is that because it is extremely uncomfortable. Secondly, because a charm would have to be super strong to hold aloft a person and broom, while speeding along. Out of all these differences, none of them are as big of a difference as the dragons. Well , sure it has dragons, but they're nothing like our dragons.
Our dragons are very different then the Harry Potter dragons. Real dragons are kinds like the Night Killer, Horrid Nightmare, Round Tailed Muscle Dragon, Two Headed Doubleneck, Deadly Nadder, and many more. The names originated from when most dragons lived in the Scandinavia area, where vikings had many encounters with them. Eventually, the wizards rounded all the dragon's up, and wiped lots of memories, but there were still tales of those magical beasts. Anyway, now we still use names that the vikings made up, just changed a little. Some dragons we capture and train, but some are extremely dangerous, hard to catch, and impossible to train. These certain dragons are called the untrainable four. They are the Deadly Nadder, Horrid Nightmare, Round Tailed Muscle Dragon, and leader of the other three, The Night Killer.
On my second year at U.S.S.W.W.W I managed to not bring a single explosive object. I did almost explode the ballroom chandelier, but I managed to stop the spell before any explosions started.I also was a pretty good wizard to. If I say so myself.It's mostly because when my teachers heard I was smart when it came to explosions and fire, they would talk of how if I did my homework and learned spells correctly, they might teach me an extremely dangerous fire spell. They never actually did, of course. But I didn't mind. Being a good Wizard is never a bad thing.

But when she started to read the next page her smile vanished and her eyes widened."I think, maybe we should take this seriously."
***
There's one thing I forgot to mention,my name.It's Herbert Philyps Hermson Emamhs Shmame the third. And to top it all off, my first name is said weird. You say it, leaving off the "H" like how some people call herbs 'erbs. There's no guestion that my great-grandparents were weird when it came to names. With a name like that it sounds like your a nerd or computer geek. Definetely not a pyrotechnic maniac. Don't get me wrong, I am pretty smart, but I'm a lot smarter when it comes to explosions and fire. I've even invented a couple things, but that's not important right now. After that we practically stepped into Harry Potter world.
We went to dragone alley, and went to the Cheyenne train station to leave. When I got on I tried to make friends but its a bit harder without fame and glory on your side. After a while of going in and out of compartments, I settled down in a compartment with a bunch of muggle borns, like me.( If you haven't read Harry Potter, muggle means,non-magical people.)I tried to make something happen with my wand, but wheneer I tried, it poured out gunpowder, or made black smoke. Once it set Larry Peterson's hair on fire, and by the time we smuthered it out, about half his hair was burned off. He stared at me mercilessly the whole rest of the ride. Maybe my wand could sense an aura of fire and explosions from me, or maybe it chose me because all it could do was explode or set on fire things, and it felt I would use it the most. All these thoughts wirled through my head as a train sped me away to my destiny, with some angry kids staring at me from all over the compartment.

United States School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Wyoming) is proud to invite you to our halls to control and maximize your magical skills. Because of being born of non-magical parents, explanations will be included on the next page, following the supplies needed.



Silence filled the room. My Dad, (not the biggest reader) said, "Are we supposed to take this seriously?" Me and Mom burst out laughing."What?" he said. Finally, when we had our share of laughing, my Mom said,"Really Herbert, I know you don't read much but I figured you'd read Harry Potter!"Then me and Mom started laughing all over again,and poor Dad looked really confused,"Who is this Perry Lotter you're talking about,and what does he have to do with this letter!?" We laughed even harder after that,to the point were tears were streaming down our faces. When Mom gained control of herself she explained how it was probably just a practical joke played by some teenagers.

So, I grew up to be a Pyro-maniac. If you don't know what it means I'll tell you:someone who loves to play with fire and in some cases, explosions. Which just happens to include my case. So I grew up as the kid that destroys things. It only takes about a week for a couch to be burned to the ground,(or carpet I guess.) Nothing changed, until I got the letter.

How My Life Was, and How It Got Turned Upside-down
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You're probably thinking, short chapters. I know. I'm new to this writing thing. Anyway, the story starts with a man. A man in an artillery regiment. He's my dad, one thing about my dad is that when he finds something he thinks is cool, he finds ways to get it. Before he left the army he managed to convince the leader of the regiment to lend him a bazuka. Of course any Dad with a bazuka would want to show off to their son. I was about 4 at the time so when he brought me to the countryside and got out the gun I didn't know what he was doing until the blast came. When he saw the look on my face he rushed me home and tried to convince me to never play with fire or watch things explode.My dad never epicly failed more at anything.
*****************************************************

sorry anna I forgot to switch from your account when I started this

-----------------------------------------------------
Look, I didn't want to get expelled, and I didn't want to blow a hole in the ceiling either. Your probably wondering how this all happened, and I figure I should progbably tell you. But I warn you it's quite a strange and long story.

(Herbert)

prologue
------------------------------------------------------
"Look, I know you've had a hard day but can you please repeat what happened."
"Seriously, I didn't mean to-"
"I am not accusing you I just-"
"Really! I didn't want to blow a hole in the-"
"Stop! just stop with all the complaining! I just want to hear the details."

this is where I type the story