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The Daily Diviner - Special Edition: SAD

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Staff Appreciation Day!
Written by Creme_de_Creme
Edited by bluecherub

Hello lovely readers! A short while ago, the same staff and team members that you know and love celebrated SAD week, otherwise known as Staff Appreciation Day. SAD lasts a week long, and usually occurs towards the end of January and July. This article will give an explanation of what SAD is, why we celebrate it, and announce the winners of the SAD writing competition! There is even a message from Droobledore himself!

So what exactly is SAD week, anyway? It is a time that we celebrate, appreciate, and are thankful towards both our staff and team members that volunteer their time towards developing and advancing Potterworld! You might ask “Why should we celebrate our team and staff members?” To answer this question more fully, I will break it down by department. Potterworld has six: Academics, Build, Community Management, Game Design, Media & Public Relations, and Technology & Development.

Starting with Academics, the members in this department teach us about the magical wonders, and dangers, of the world. I have learned so much from our Academics Department, whether it be about the history of the vast wizarding world, how to make a unique potion, dangerous creatures, rare magical objects, or anything in between!

The Build Department creates all the builds that you see on the main world, classrooms, events, Community Engagements, and more! I have learned from this department that all builds have their own character hidden within. They can encourage inspiration, fearful reverence, or even joy!

Community Management helps players of all kinds, whether by sorting through player feedback to make experiences more fun, moderating the server to keep it a safe and pleasant place, helping players who need assistance, or anything else! I have learned from this department that you gain just as much from helping others as they get from you.

The Game Design Department designs and creates events, world minigames, quests, lore, offers competitions, Community Engagements, inspires roleplay, and much more! The people of this department have taught me that if you can think of an idea and are passionate enough to want to bring it into existence, there is little that can stop you.

The Media & Public Relations Department creates the visual and written artwork you see both in-game, on our website, and on social media! I have learned from this department that art comes in so many forms from visual artwork such as renders, banners, drawings, and photos, to written forms such as poetry, stories, and prose. Media has taught me to appreciate all forms of art.

The Technology & Development Department codes the foundations of our server, manages bug reports, and assists in fixing those bugs so that our server can continue to run without breaking. I have learned from this department that teamwork across all departments is of the utmost importance, and without this department or any department, Potterworld wouldn’t be what it is today.

Droobledore himself has a message to pass onto everyone about SAD:

Droobledore: Staff Appreciation Day is one of those special traditions on Potterworld. It is a time to be grateful and a time to remember and remind ourselves why we all take the time out of our busy lives to devote to the server! It's also a tradition that we hold sacred because it allows us to all get together even though we are from so many different departments, countries, and backgrounds and share our experiences together!

Some students also had some lovely thoughts to share about our staff team:

What do you appreciate about the PW staff team?
ItzYahBoiM4: Firstly, when a person joins a new server for the first time, they give a warm welcome to players. When I first joined, everyone was so nice, friendly and welcoming. During my beginning years, they helped me a lot with my quests etc. They work so hard, whether it be class helpers, professors, arena team, inquisitors etc. I appreciate that they manage and spend time doing their work to provide the best for the server. Importantly, being a staff isn’t an easy task, yet they do their best and help the pw community.
stardustdotcom: I'd honestly say that most of them that I've met are so outgoing and friendly. They really set the standard for how to interact with other players and that makes the whole environment in potterworld very wholesome from a player perspective. A lot of times other places and servers have staff be above players in many ways, or at least acting very in the background so no one can see that they are actual people you could get to know. Potterworld has so many staff that are eager and active in global chat so everyone can see they're just other players like us.

This past week, some staff members participated in the Writing Competition where they submitted a piece that followed the prompt “Winter Fun” and had a limit of 1500 words. The pieces were put up for players to vote on, and then the Daily Diviner Producers were asked to vote on their favorite piece. The winners were to receive 500 Potterpoints each, and there were a total of 6 entries.

The players elected the piece called “A Tropical Summer” written by tqrpiar as their winner. The piece told the story of a group of fast friends traveling to Castelomagia and the author’s unique experience in being sorted into his house at the magical school. The Daily Diviner Producers elected the piece “Afterthought” written by mn614 as a winner. His piece told the tale of a man who loses himself in the grief of his loss of a loved one, struggles to find the joy in winter again, then regains himself in the end as he reconnects with his daughter and grandchild and finds the true meaning of what winter means to him through very well-written prose.

I would like to thank everyone who participated in the Writing Competition as well as thank all of our staff and team members for everything that they do. Have a wonderful day, everyone! This has been Creme_de_Creme reporting for the Daily Diviner!
 

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The Daily Diviner

New Magician
Staff
#2
A Tropical Summer
Writing Competition Winner
Written by tqrpiar

We watch winter roll around the corner and flood the school’s domain with snow, stuffing ourselves in coats to keep the cold away. The air outside was freezing cold, if you’d somehow had forgotten your scarf, well then, best of luck!

It was one thing to say the least; freezing cold. The stone walls felt like ice cubes on your hands, even with the several enchantments cast around.

With dark mornings where the sun would be hidden behind the clouds and to the early nights shadowing over Hogsworth. All students would be bundled up in layers and layers of clothing, in hopes to savour the warmth.

Now, we stood here. Around thirty students packed together at the front of the Great Hall. Some would sit on top of the archway with their wands swinging about. Others were loudly playing their instruments and the guitar strings sang away.

Most of us had our festive hats on, just covering the tips of our ears. It wasn’t too long ago that our Winter Waltz trip of the year was announced. We were travelling to the one and only Castelomagia, Brazil!

We all waited impatiently, hoping the time would tick faster just this once. At long last, when the clock struck twelve, our trip began.

It was a long ride, or well, sail. Instead of travelling by train, broom or fire dust, our trip was done by boat. Packs of students would take seats in a boat group by group, watching the scenery go by.

At this point, most of us had started shedding layers of clothing as our thick coats were the last thing we had to wear over here. The sailor that helped us, Kevin, brought us his story. He had wished to see the world and travel far, eventually ending up touring this beautiful place.

Castelomagia was gorgeous. The school was surrounded by fauna and flora, dressed in gold and rivers far and wide. One could hear the waterfall clash onto the river below, but it was gentle.

Kevin peddled the final stretch and bid us farewell as we stepped out of the boat. The sun blinded my eyes through the trees, it was definitely different from what we were used to.
With excitement, we all took off. Most hopped on their brooms to enter the school as quickly as humanly possible. I simply chose to walk the hanging bridge, watching carefully where I put my feet.

The bridge gently swished along with the wind, but never enough to make someone fall. Upon making it to the mainland, I was met by several students and birds flying around. They were called Conucko’s, I once wrote an assignment on them for Magical Creature Studies.

Before even taking a step on the stairs, I heard my name echo in the distance. With squinting eyes I watched my friends carefully cross the bridge, with knuckles turning white around the ropes.

I waved with one big gesture, waiting for them to make their way to me. They dashed forward and twirled in front of me, “Look! I’ve put on the outfit you made for us!”

We looked rather out of place, with our white pom-poms and mistletoe headband comfortable sitting on our heads. Linked together, we strolled up the many stairs and entered the Great Hall of Castelomagia.

It was rather small to what we were used to, but gorgeous nonetheless. The Headmistress waved us over and welcomed us to Brazil. With a gentle voice she said: “Welcome all! I hope the journey went well. We’re super excited to have you all as guests at our school this year. When visitors arrive we have a tradition! You guys can take the sorting test at our school and be sorted into one of the houses here.”

Almost dancing from excitement we followed the Headmistress. She pointed towards the sorting room and smiled politely as we scurried off like little kids.

We did it together, each and every question. Loudly reading all the questions and ideas that were being asked, and choosing separate choices.

It was amusing, seeing how different we all were. How we all had separate ideas, yet we all still connect in our unique way. As the last question came around and we all touched the last object.

In the blink of an eye we found ourselves in another location, disorganised as to where we were. Separated from some and put together with others, we were put in our respective houses.

With laughter we burst out as the flower bracelet wraps around our wrist to show the house pride.

“I want the red house!” I complained. “It’s my favourite colour.”

“None of us are in the red house! What was it again- Aurólia?”

“Aurólia, yes.”

Reuniting at the stairs, we showed our bracelets to one another. Overrun by orange, second by purple and then a single soul in green.

All by all, with excitement we sprint to the Headmistress and show off the flowers.

“Go,” she sings. “Please enjoy our school!”
 

The Daily Diviner

New Magician
Staff
#3
Afterthought
Writing Competition Winner
Written by mn614

Though his face lacked reflection,
Nature drove his heart porous.
So let’s now hear the story
Of the late Mr. Morris…

As he eyes the white bedsheets,
He is reminded of snow
And long latent memories
Of gray winters years ago.

It isn’t the hospital
That makes him feel old.
Mr. Morris has simply
Many tales from winter’s cold.

Long before, he remembered,
His bright daughter sat with him.
She listened as he taught her
With a drink from the kitchen.

Mr. Morris, a painter,
Taught Annalise, his daughter.
He showed her great artists’ works
Of earth, oil, and water.

Annalise’s favorite
Was a master of his day.
She adored learning about
The great artist, Claude Monet.

Art became the family’s
Favorite form of winter fun.
And for years it seemed as if
It could be ruined by none.

They had many adventures
In all their festive pursuits.
Wrapping gifts, baking cookies,
Wearing fun sweaters and boots.

Their excitement couldn’t end
Under the pale winter sky.
And their lives did seem perfect
–but their story went awry.

Annalise’s mother, who
was Mr. Morris’s wife,
Fell ill one February
And then perished from this life.

It was now, at this instance,
Mr. Morris would despair.
Since his wife has departed,
He’s loathed the winter air.

Perhaps some do recover,
But Mr. Morris carried
A sadness alongside him
And he never remarried.

All the joy of the winter,
Its activities and food,
Could not move Mr. Morris
From his melancholy mood.

But on one New Year’s Eve,
He nearly got one more chance
With the lovely Pandora,
Whom he allowed a long dance.

They had met at a small park
On that windy winter’s night
Pandora made his heart leap
As if ready to take flight.

And the two become closer,
But Pandora had to leave
For her new job in Paris
By the next year’s Christmas Eve.

Poor, distraught Mr. Morris,
Never told her he’d loved her.
Another dim memory
Tied to dull winter weather.

They exchanged letters abroad,
But once three decades progressed,
Her letters stopped arriving–
Pandora’s fate, eternal rest…

And from all of his sadness,
Morris turned love into art.
His paintings of Pandora
And his wife touched many hearts.

In all his wondrous artworks,
The subject was full of life.
Engaged in winter pastimes,
They were much larger-than-life.

So these paintings were purchased;
Mr. Morris grew wealthy.
But the sadness he carried
Was, of course, never healthy.

To express his pure insights,
He’d thrown himself into art,
His once loved winter hobby
Had captured his broken heart.

But between his great projects,
A dismal trend from the start–
The painter and his daughter
Were growing further apart.

And now, 88 years old,
The sickbed’s sheets like white snow
Make him think about winter
And his daughter long ago.

He regrets his forlornness,
For he had not paid due care
For his daughter’s livelihood
As he reflects in despair.

The hospital door opens,
And his bright daughter enters.
Her hair glitters with snowflakes,
The harbinger of winter.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells her,
“And I should have been with you.”
“It’s okay,” she now answers,
As tears begin breaking through.

“Your heart led to passion, but
We were never truly torn.
And here’s your grandson,” she adds,
Showing him a small newborn.

The baby’s eyes are like snow,
Gleaming with comfort and light.
Mr. Morris then smiles,
His heart brimming with delight.

“I forgive you,” she repeats.
Her father gives her a nod.
“What’s its name?” he asks, gently,
“Oh! Like the artist–it’s Claude.”

Mr. Morris now reflects;
Winter isn’t always sad.
It’s for making amends,
For being thankful and glad.

Joyful memories of winter
Are all rushing to his head.
He remembers not sorrow
But festive instances instead.

And through this recollection,
His final exit is grand.
As his vision starts blurring,
He holds his daughter’s warm hand.

His fingers numb, he relaxes.
His hand’s grip begins to cease.

Eternally satisfied,
For there is nothing but
Peace.​
 
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