sortinghat_logs | Stop and smell the grass

WHO: Kurloz Makara
TONE: somewhat macabre
RATING: PG-13
WHEN: 13 October, early evening
WHERE: Library
WHAT: Kurloz is taking advantage of Hogwarts' massive library and delving into the medical biology section. (btw he's not wearing his makeup, just his eyeliner)
STATUS: ONGOING

Kurloz had decided to spend the majority of his Saturday sketching. Not completely unusual, and some of the sketches had even been lighthearted ones of the outdoor scenery. He'd even bothered to collect one of the autumn leaves and draw it out in exquisite detail, but then he'd gotten lost in the veins of the plant. Veins had led to thoughts of blood, and blood had led to here, the library, in the shadowy section on biology. He hadn't bothered with the general Healing tomes - he'd gone straight for the titles regarding the transformation and distortion of anatomy through spellwork, staring fascinated at the images depicting various gruesome twisted creatures and failed experiments.

He sat at one of the desks, several of the books piled at his arm as he scanned through one in front of him, eyes fixated on the detailed water-coloured painting of two wizards that had been merged to share one spine, both of their faces in agony as the writer noted that the subjects had not lasted long under the pain.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Swallows, not used to people paying attention to him. About the only person he ever spouts this stuff to is Shinra Kishitani, and certainly not 5th year Slytherins who would normally taunt him for either his blood status, or any of the other personality and stature issues that he usually got crap for.]

I think it's in all the cells, you see. Possibly it's a function of the DNA, which is an interesting aside because of mitochondria - ah, but that's a bit difficult to go into. Um. But, yes. The life force is in all the cells, and it's probably the neurons, the cells that make up the brain and the spinal cord and all our nerves, that house the consciousness. So, you see, there has to be a way to measure that energy, and see how long it remains in the body after death, and in what parts. And then reignite it.

[Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaares but not in a 'what the hell are you talking about' way but more of a thoughtful, piercingly analytical way. He then writes:]

would how long a fucker's been dead be all and effecting the possibility of restoring that shit? or would the energy be gone after a short while you think?

I don't know. That's why I have to find out how to measure it properly. A sort of ... soul meter, I suppose. I do know that the brqin survives the heart stopping and being deprived of oxygen for longer than people think, and the consciousness resides in the head, even after it's been completely chopped off, for at least a minute. [explains, hands gesturing briefly in the air, starting to become more animated as he talks about his very favorite subject]

[Keeps watching, smiling as Herbert gets more into his explanation. He's enjoying that almost as much as he's enjoying what's being told to him.]

[It's one of the very few times Herbert can be actually likable, when he's talking about something he loves. He's actually sort of cute, then, too, when his face lights up with excitement and interest, instead of scowling or cold disapproval, though he'll never be handsome.]

Even the Muggles saw it - they described heads blinking and looking around, after the person had been guillotined. Wizards, of course, have far better resources to investigate. With spells, we can even preserve the life in heads, if you can get them right after they've been removed from the bodies! The old wizards used to do that, to keep the heads of their enemies and gain all the knowledge in them for their own. But no one does that any more, because it's considered Dark magic. It's so stupid, how anything associated with circumventing death is considered Dark.

[Has a thoughtful look on his face before adding his 2 cents:]

guess that's because it was mainly used by bad motherfuckers? like you know who and those kinds of shits?

I suppose, but that seems ridiculously short sighted to me. The wielder doesn't determine the nature of the magic. I think it's stupid that we have categories for magic like that, anyway. It's all just forces and powers, just some people don't want us using some of it.

people can do some pretty fucking stupid or twisted shit with these spells, bro. guess it's just one way to try to keep the stupidity levels down.

But it doesn't, really. All it does is keep it out of the hands of people who can't find some way around the restrictions. And the kind of people that would use it for ends that are more focused on personal gain aren't going to care much about rules, are they?

[Shrugs because some of that legislation mumbo-jumbo almost always flies over his head.]

it's complicated as fuck all. maybe when we get a new grand poobah for the ministry things'll change.

It won't, things never do. [bitterly]

never say never, bro. it might just come to bite you on the fucking rear. :o)

I doubt my saying that is going to have any effect on my life in the future, one way or the other. [dryly]

[Smiles and shrugs.]

you got a knack for scrying bro? if you don't, leave the future to the motherfucking future. it don't make a lick of sense to speak for it before it's time.

You were the one that brought it up first. [irritably]

didn't mean no disrespect by it, bro.

[Grins, shrugging again and standing.]

you'll get the telling on more of this shit for me some other time yeah? only a fucker's got homework he should be getting onto tonight... [Looks a bit regretful at that.]

Oh. Yes ... fine. [Herbert's pretty sure Kurloz will forget, or will think better of talking to him again.]

[Beams.]

is it cool if I sit with you at breakfast then? you can get all that explaining on before classes.

All right? [Looks a little uncertain, and adjusts his glasses to try and cover.] If you haven't got anything better to do.

sweet. see you tomorrow then, my wicked cool brainy bro!

[Puts the notebook away and gives a sloppy salute to Herbert, grinning happily before leaving the library.]

Stop and smell the grass

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