Hogwarts (and guests) respond to the unwelcome report in this morning's Daily Prophet as part of the 'A Pox on Salem' plot. For more info, check the plotting thread.

People were staring.

Taryn was used to getting stared at when she walked into a new place. But this wasn't a new place. This was the Great Hall. She'd eaten here three times a day every day for the last three months. These people knew her, she'd gone to weeks of classes, she'd gone toe-to-toe with a giant spiders' nest in the middle of the Quidditch pitch for everyone to see. They had to be used to her by now.

And yet, there were eyes following her everywhere. There were whispers that went silent whenever her footsteps approached and clusters of students who scurried out of her path, chattering over newspapers. This wasn't the sort of attention one got just for being late to breakfast.

A lingering nighttime prank was ruled out when she arrived at the Salem table, which was oddly void of the usual foreign student clusters that hung out with them for a good laugh or a joke. In fact, she couldn't help but notice that some students -- Beauxbatons and Drumstrang students in particular -- gave the purple-robed table a particularly wide berth today, and that more of them than usual bore self-satisfied expressions when they glanced Salem's way.

Scowling, Taryn plopped onto the floor at the end of the table and reached for a plate of eggs.  "Did I miss a memo or somethin'? These guys are acting weirder than usual. What in the name of Sam Houston is goin' on?"

The accusations and insinuations nestled between the lines in the article were grating on Migs in more ways than he could count.  He'd been trying push it from his mind and focus on something else but everything seemed to be conspiring to remind them of it.  The glances from their neighbors.  The obvious body-less moat around the Salem table.  Taryn's request for a clue-in. 

Migs slid his copy of the paper towards Taryn and speared a sausage unceremoniously.  "We've got cooties," he announced, not bothering to keep his voice down.  "And, we're apparently daft enough to be unaware of it.  Must be the Old World prairie dust." 

He knew his aunt had been busier than usual, requiring the recruitment of two spare elves just to keep the hospital hut clean.  But, students had come from all over - France and ... wherever they rumored the Durmstrang students to originate from.  Migs turned his attention to his sausage, giving his neighbor time to read and digest the article. 

"They're just starting to get worried about the added competition, if you ask me," Migs voiced, glancing towards a particularly smug looking cluster of Durmstrangers. 

"...which includes fiery hot pustules on all limbs, digits and other extremities.  Later stages of Dragon Pox include scale-like rashes and a hardening of the skin which may lead to painful cracking or breaking!"

Figaro was bent over a large textbook from the library, History's Blisters - A Poxtionary by Tracon Q. LeFever, and reading loudly as he followed along with an index finger.  The Daily Prophet had gone around the table quickly this morning and so Figaro and others had wasted no time in getting riled about it. 

"Bloody hell!  Listen: Violent nausea is possible and the bile will often erupt at scalding temperatures.  Treat symptoms with cooling spells and ingesting whole bezoars.  Oh and here: early signs of Dragon Pox infection may be mistaken for typical teenage spots."

Figaro quickly lifted his head with a laugh, to try and spy a Salem kid who might have a zit.  There was a knot of Salem students a little bit down Hufflepuff table and Fig leaned back to get an eyeful and then, as a joke, scooted down the bench away from them.  Some of his friends laughed and Figaro read on.

"Death comes to approximately 80% of cases not treated within the first new moon of first symptoms, yadda yadda yadda... oh here it is:"

Figaro paused so he could clear his voice and read even louder.  "Dragon Pox is highly contagious! And can be passed through the breath, touch, or by sharing food or drink!" 

Around him a few students dramatically spit out their breakfast or pushed their plates away.

Damien walked into the Great Hall a few minutes later than normal, the hall was already a buzz with students chatting about this and that. But it wasn't just the normal conversation, there were hushed whispers and vacant stares directed at the Salemite's in particular. He knew why.

The Salem Junior picked up his pace and practically jogged to where the other Salem students were sitting. He threw down the newspaper on the table, it was wrinkled and partially crushed from where he had been gripping it so tight. "This is B.S.," he said roughly.

He plopped himself down at the table, looking around at the other students who didn't dare to look back. Then  one of the Hufflepuffs shouted loudly enough to make a few kids freak out and push their plates away. Damien couldn't tell what he had said but it must of been about Salem's 'cooties'.

"Seriously, our dragon pox vaccines aren't up to date? Do I look like I'm covered in scales?" He grumbled, grabbing a piece of toast and a glass of orange juice. He couldn't wait until they had to deal with the smart mouths who would come up to them asking if they were contagious.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Taryn muttered, scanning the article again. Like Damien, she tossed it to the table in a huff. "Dragon pox? Seriously? Do they know who our headmaster is? The Boss wouldn't let a sniffle bug within two miles of us, let alone the damn pox!"

She caught the laugh at the Hufflepuff table and craned to get a better look. Some moron at the center had a book out, folks crowded around to get a look. Another comment from the reader and several people spat out their food. Taryn narrowed her eyes, rising onto one knee. Was that Figaro Sellaphix, with the book? That loudmouth...!

"Sellaphix better shut his trap," she muttered, curling her hands into fists. "Or he's gonna have another riot on his hands."

"Seriously, these guys need to get a grip." Damien said, taking another long look at the article. This was a total lie, some idiot was probably trying to stir up trouble at the tournament, make things more fun and all.

"Sellaphix again? That kid's making trouble again?" After last time, Damien figured the Hufflepuff would calm down and not be so... so crazy and so loud. He needed to keep things to himself.

He shook his head and finished off his orange juice, placing the cup on the table. "What d'ya think this means for us?"

"Dare me? You dare me?  Are you new?"  Figaro's once again carried a little to far.  He stood up from the bench, grinning.  After much scientific research into dragon pox just now, someone had proposed that perhaps Figaro should conduct some field research, that he was, perhaps, all talk and no walk.  It was subsequently posed formally as a dare, that Figaro should expose himself to the unclean students of Salem.  It was not clear what expedition was likely to prove, but Figaro was never one to turn down a dare.

Plus, he figured the Salem kids would get a laugh out of it.  He hadn't yet noticed that the whole of them seemed to be stewing.

He saw a ways over Taryn Dickinsen, the half-giant he'd met in August.  She was with some other Salem people and since she was nice and generally the sort Figaro liked to interact, he made his way there.  Eyes followed him from Hufflepuff table.

Innocently enough, he approached them.  "Greetings, delegation from Salem.  Hey, Taryn. How are you feeling this morning?"

"What d'ya think this means for us?"

"What means what for us?" Aggie yawned as she finally approached the table, having missed the entire conversation thanks to a faulty alarm clock. As far as she was concerned, if they were going to make alarm clocks so obnoxious, they should also make them less susceptible to stone walls. Running her fingers through the rats nest of her hair, getting her fingers stuck a few times in the process, Aggie took a seat between Migs and another SWIM student.

As she grabbed for some deliciously thick apple wood bacon, Aggie's eyes fell onto the newspaper Taryn had just smacked down on the table. "May I?" She asked before taking the paper anyways. The others looked too upset to notice. Flipping it open to the article titled 'International Tournament Scandal', Aggie settled back against Mig's shoulder and munched on her bacon as she read. As her eyes scanned the page, her bites became fewer and far between until she finally just put the remainder of the strip down to focus on the article.

"Haha... What the hell is this?" She laughed sarcastically as she finished, pointing at the paper. "I thought the Quibbler was supposed to be the tabloid rag around here.. Is this what passes for front-page news over here? God, life must suck if this is 'hard hitting'..." She pantomimed some air quotes before tossing the paper back on the table with a roll of her eyes.

Picking up another piece of bacon, she took a big bite and begin to gesture wildly with the other piece as she went on "Relax guys, it isn't like they are going to kick us out because of some half-assed news report..." Just as she said this, some bits of bacon suddenly caught in her throat and Aggie begin to choke. Turning away from the table quickly, so as to avoid spraying her friends with bacon flavored spittle, she coughed violently, pounding on her chest, until it cleared. When her eyes opened and refocused, she realized in horror that there was someone standing behind her, now covered in spit and bacon slivers. "Er... oops..." She said sheepishly, unconsciously reaching up and scratching a small, rare zit that had popped up on her chin overnight. "...My bad."

((The victim can be whomever ^^))

One by one, the uniformed at the table pulled the paper towards them and mirrored the reaction of the rest of those at their table.  Last, but not least, Aggie joined them.  She settled at the table, leaned against Migs and drew the paper back within viewing range of both of them.  Migs' reread the page as Aggie read it the first time, frowning slightly as he shook his head. 

"They're just grappling for news stories.  Who our headmaster is - or any actual facts for that matter - are irrelevant to their article."  Migs looked across the table at Taryn but turned away from his teammate just as Sellaphix came bounding up to their table. 

"Taryn?"  Migs repeated, a slight smirk settling on his face as he glanced between the half-giant and the Hufflepuff.  Of all the 'patient zeros' to question, Taryn was the first?  Didn't the Hogwarts clan have their own resident half-giant?  They must know that the added giant blood probably meant they'd be the last to contract whatever it was that the Americans had supposedly brought with them.  Assuming there was an epidemic, Taryn would probably only be on her death bed after the rest of them were dead and gone. 

Aggie's coughing fit couldn't have been better timed.  With a grin, Migs watched as she fought to catch her breath, patting her on the back in an effort to dispel the hacking session quickly. 

When asked for it, Taryn pushed the paper Aggie's way, furling her brow when the senior girl leaned against Migs. That was...confusing. Taryn knew that the two seniors were friends. They'd organized the barbecue together just two days before. But were they...could they have been...?

She imagined dunking her head into a bathtub of ice water, slapping the common sense back into her brain. Even if they were together, what did it matter to her? Sure, Migs was clever and nice and intensely hot and rode rodeo, which was the most awesome thing ever. They'd met on the circuit a few times and got along pretty well when they had a chance to talk. But it wasn't like she'd actually thought she had a chance with him. At all.

Besides, there were more important things at hand -- like that damn article. Taryn knew she was probably overreacting. Aggie was right, they wouldn't get thrown out of the tournament over something like this. Hell, Parker and Mace were bound by magical contract; they couldn't get thrown out until the end of their Task. It would be stupid to get worked up. But at the same time, she kept hearing that absolute hag, Magdalena Eisenberg, sneering up at her: “Your school does not belong in this tournament. Thank you for reminding me.”[1]

So perhaps it was understandable that, when Figaro approached, she snapped her head towards him like a guard dog ready to pounce. "What the hell, Fig?" she demanded, slamming her palm into the table with such force that her schoolmates had to scramble to keep their goblets upright. "What're you trying to pull with that damn book? You wanna start another fight or something?"

1.	Diplomacy Fail

Those of Figaro's audience who'd watched him go over to Salem all exploded with laughter and "Ooooh!" when one of the Salem girls spewed chunks all over him.  For a moment, Figaro was frozen.  The rusty brown chunks were all down his front and everything sort of twinkled with drops of saliva.  He opened his eyes and checked out the damage, flicked a bit of bacon off his cheek.  He was torn about it - it was all a laugh, but maybe he should rush out to Madam Nagde for a proper dousing.

"I was about to tell them all what lovely hygiene you all have," he explained to Taryn and the rest, with a forced smile as he wiped off with a napkin from the table.  "And we are just having a bit of education, that's all.  Can't blame us for reading in a school, innit?  But just checking, none of you has got itchy patches or spicy farts or anything like that?"

He was teasing them probably too much.  Of course he didn't want to start a fight, but a situation like this was too much for him to just let pass by without copious commentary.  The papers were saying the Salem kids all had some horrible dirty disease.  It was plain that they didn't.  He just had to bother them.  It was like a law, or something.