(May 3rd, 10:00 a.m., at the art fair in Hogsmeade)


Fauna hung the last painting on the wall and stood back to admire it. It was part of a series she’d done, showing the effects of green light on figures and well-known places in the wizarding world. The connotations attached to the killing curse made the subject matter much darker than she was used to working with, but she’d decided a while ago that creating artwork required taking some risks. Art was one of the few areas she felt comfortable expressing herself. She smiled, satisfied that the painting was secured, and turned to survey the rest of the booth.

Their exhibit wasn’t quite a booth anymore. It had evolved into something much more complex, a maze of various works hung on makeshift walls that they’d set up earlier in the morning. The ground beneath their feet was covered with dark cloth, which Atticus had enchanted to display the names of those lost in the war. It was subtle, yet powerful. The names and letters blinked in and out, reappearing and disappearing, and gradually the number of names increased the further visitors explored the exhibit. On the far wall hung a patchwork quilt of letters that the students had created, some of them signed and some left anonymous, but all contributing something artistic and meaningful. The art club’s efforts to involve the rest of the school hadn’t been as successful as Fauna had hoped, but at least they had enough contributions to string the letters together and display them nicely. She caught a glimpse of a snake drawing and a poem someone had written:

“Just because I raise my hood, glaring eyes, blackened cloak…”

Fauna stepped through the exhibit and towards the entrance of the booth, feeling very nervous but proud at the same time. All the club members had shown up early that morning to help set up the booth, and their efforts had paid off. Most of the exhibit displayed the student’s own artwork, but at the very beginning of the exhibit they displayed some of the older work found in the castle, like sculptures and a few overenthusiastic paintings. Some of the portraits were so excited to be in the show that they simply couldn’t stay still, flitting from frame to frame, gossiping and gloating loudly that they’d been chosen over the ‘lesser’ oils left at Hogwarts. Fauna shook her head and smiled. She hadn’t meant to create a stir by choosing some paintings over others, but apparently it had sparked jealousy among the portrait figures, who could be heard bickering about it in the corridors all week.

She took her place by the entrance, hoping to greet people as they walked past. Fauna checked her watch. It was 10:00 in the morning. The other booths in the community art fair looked to be ready for visitors, so now all they had to do was show people what they’d created. She fiddled with the hem of her dress and glanced towards the streets of Hogsmeade. It was early yet, but she hoped that someone would stop by soon.

Nora, as usual, was one of the first to arrive on the scene.  She'd seen the students preparing the booth from her cottage window and was very interested to know exactly what it was they had been doing.

Dressed noticeably for the occasion, she was wearing a set of deep green and rather stately looking robes and a rather striking red hat. The colours clashed horribly.

A small pair of spectacles were perched rather uncomfortably on her nose. A recent, and not very well fitting addition, to her face, they had the annoying habit of sliding off her nose whenever she nodded or shook her head. She hated wearing them but they were a necessary evil. Her eyesight had not been quite the same since she'd been knocked into at the memorial ceremony. 

"Good mornin' lass!Are you ready to open up yet? " She asked the girl standing by the entrance. She half raised herself to her tiptoes as she spoke, peering around the student into the booth behind her.

outfit

If you called Meg's initial appearance at the mural nervous enough, her current appearance at the Student Art Booth was even worse. She had been barely able to walk to Hogsmeade, let alone set up her own artwork, which was not signed by her at all. Just because she said that she would submit her artwork, did not mean that she was going to take credit for her own work. She was profusely afraid of putting down her name, and would rather leave people guessing on what was her work.

However, Meg's artwork did proclaim a certain theme. She tried to describe it to Fauna during the meeting they had last month. It was even a portion of the theme of the mural that they were almost finished with. She personally thought that it was a good theme, especially since most of her artwork portrayed that exact theme. It was that life goes on, and that the magical community was healing from that war ten years ago.

The young Ravenclaw had spent a good portion of the previous night, choosing the art work that she was going to display. Again, her name was not on the paintings that were hers. She expected those students who actually saw her work, to recognize it instantly. But, for those others that did not see it, they wouldn't know.

Meg had finished hanging her paintings up on the wall. The first was the picture that she showed to the group during their meeting:

It was of the final battle of Hogwarts, in the Great Hall. Having researched extensively about the subject, she managed to gain some knowledge about the whole incident. The painting was from the view of Harry Potter, and only showed his wand in the view. On the opposite end was Voldemort with a surprised look on his face as his curse was deflected back towards him. She managed to depict the two spells hitting each other in midair in bright colors. The crowds of students, Professors, and Death Eaters were apparent with looks of anguish on their faces, along with damage sustained to the Great Hall during the fighting. On the upper right of the painting, in white cursive hand-writing, she had written, 'We won't forget…'

She hung a few other pictures as well. The second one that she had made, was Hogwarts castle, viewing it from the grounds. It showed the castle destroyed from the war, complete with a darkened background that helped convey the death that happened in the castle. The third one was of Hogsmeade. It was from the entrance to Hogsmeade, showing the destruction to the various stores, and Olivander's shop that was closed, along with a few others. However, she decided to model these three with other pictures as well. The young Ravenclaw had current paintings next to each one that showed destruction.

Next to the painting of the Final Battle in the Great Hall, Meg hung a realistic painting of the Great Hall. It was completely restored, and even showed students gathering in it. In addition, she exemplified the light in the painting, showing it beam down to the Great Hall. Next to her destroyed picture of Hogwarts, she hung a picture of Hogwarts, restored as well. This one had that same light theme in it. Finally, she drew Hogsmeade again, as a busy magical town. Yet again, the light was shown in this one as well. She wanted to show how people were healing, and hoped that people would like it.

Meg finished off her display, by hanging a sign next to everything. It simply stated, 'Healing' on it. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted her artwork to show. She smiled, and walked away from her artwork. She figured that it would be helpful to go help Fauna at the entrance of the art booth. As she neared the entrance, she noticed a witch asking Fauna a question. So, she decided to hang back for a bit, not wanting to intrude.

Following the commotion during the memorial service, Waker found it more difficult than usual to tune out everything and concentrate on the task at hand, but she had volunteered to give tours and help her peers with their exhibits, and would thus make good on her promise. The more she saw of the impending art fair, the more impressed and, well, excited the girl became to wander through the festival herself. She had been in Hogsmeade for a few hours already, watching students, professors, and Hogsmeade patrons alike set up their booths and exhibits and prepare for the on-going holiday. Seeing the tiny town seemingly transform itself with every blink of the human eye made Waker realize, yet again, just how powerful magic could be. And she knew there had been layers of decoration and more subtle construction for several days now.

Scanning one of three copies of the Remembering Day schedule that happened to be in her possession at this moment, the girl frowned slightly at the 1PM time slot, the inappropriate phrase 'Fashion Show' assaulting her disapproving eyes. She enjoyed clothes as much as the next teenage girl, but... really? Really? Waker's gaze moved upward with heightened anticipation, like a clock moving backward, and finally landed the earlier and more relevant event: what was happening now. Her face softened and she looked down the street to where the student art booth was situated. From her place near the Hogwarts gates, she could just make up the front side of the booth. She was very much looking forward to seeing the final product, but wondered whether her gentle Hufflepuff classmate was alright, or ready to curse someone. Unfortunately, Waker had only been able to help with the earlier bits of construction where the art booth was concerned, before rushing off to argue with another student who wanted school-sponsored tours of his father's local butcher shop, where the 'fresh ingredients' of many 'celebratory dishes' were born-- to put it euphemistically. After nearly turning green at this, and unsuccessfully explaining that no one fancied an intimate meeting with tonight's dinner, the Ravenclaw had then involved herself in an almost scandal-of-the-century with a dodgy souvenir salesman and his suspiciously Veela-esque wife. Although 'wife' had not been the word they'd used.

A tap on the shoulder pulled Waker out of her reverie. She stiffened and held back a blush, turning to face an intimidating witch who worked for the town council, and who had helped Waker advertise the tours to people who had no relations at Hogwartrs. The Ravenclaw straightened her blazer-- she was wearing part of her school uniform in an effort to look more 'professional' and approachable to people who were not busy hawking stolen Weasley goods and dangerous party crackers-- and flashed a reserved smile at the woman. Behind her were more than a dozen antsy witches and wizards of varying ages and backgrounds. Some of them seemed to be tourists for whom this was a first-time pilgrimage to the sight of the Battle. Others were dragging potentially devilish children, or half-dead relatives who seemed old enough to make Waker's grandmother look like a kitten. One man in particular looked very ready to hex his daughter and bid farewell to the past century or five.

"Hello," she said curtly, in an whisper, before reminding herself to project her voice just as she might in a classroom full of attention-wandering schoolmates. She touched her throat briefly, her fingers floating upward to stop a single strand of hair from jumping the barricade of obedience. "I'm Waker, I'll be your tour guide this morning. If anyone would like a complimentary tea or coffee before we--"

"Baker?" Croaked the grim reaper whose daughter was clutching his forearm in a desperate attempt to keep him earthbound. The Ravenclaw tried desperately not to share a most unappealing reactive expression. This was made slightly more difficult by the man's hand, which, in a feat of strength, ripped free from his daughter's shackle and rubbed his own stomach with affection.

"Waker," she repeated, more loudly than necessary, after a succession of blinks. She avoided the daughter's eyes, for the woman too was old enough to have coddled her own oldest relatives.

After a few more minutes of introductions, caffeine consumption, and answering questions about the grandiose castle leaning against the mid-morning sky, the sixth year set off with the gaggle of tour-goers and a silent belief that Delilah was possibly the wisest of them all, to have forgone volunteering. Waker would not, in a million years, admit this out loud.

The path to the student art booth was laced with more temptation than a scriptural passage. Waker spent at least half her time playing peace-maker between the tourists and the booth managers, or the tourists and other tourists. It seemed that Mr. Nicholas Flammel Can Shove Off With His Ancient Self was not just a baked goods connoisseur, but a lady's man.

"I am so sorry," Waker muttered, holding her breath as she backed away from one very harassed and very married, clay-molding witch in a sort of elf-like bow. Her next words were intended for herself more than anyone. "Please forgive him, it's Field Trip Day for terminal St. Mungo's patients," she lied quietly, knitting her brows.

When finally they reached Fauna, Waker had never felt more relieved to fork over control. The smile she flashed the Hufflepuff was so big and so genuine that it was almost uncharacteristic, though, to be honest, she had been sharing more smiles with more of her peers as of late. It was something in the water, clearly.

"Fauna, this looks amazing," she encouraged, her eyes perusing the walls with sincere interest. She prayed the charmwork she had been able to perform that morning before rushing off had held up well. She nodded politely to the clamorously dressed woman beside the Hufflepuff.

Waker projected her voice once more, adding a practiced formality to her tone, and addressed the group in her wake. "Ladies and gentlemen--" (And fondling corpses) "This exhibit was put together entirely by Hogwarts students. It showcases the diverse artwork of our generation, as well as several notable pieces from the castle. This is Fauna Blake, who organized everything, and--" She looked around. Atticus, Adelia, and a few of the others had escaped her line of vision, whether they were there yet or not, but she spotted Megan, the young girl with whom she had exchanged words at the memorial service, and whose work she was curious to see. Lifting a hand to wave, Waker unintentionally pointed the entire group of visitors toward the fourth year.


outfit

Walking about the displays, Atticus seemed to try and scrutinize his own, and organize the others. Fixing some frames, ordering portraits back to their spots had taken up much of his set up time. Those painted people seemed to truly love the chaos they were creating the aggravated young man and if he wasn't careful they would be starting some during the actual tours.

Fixing his own last picture he stepped back and looked at it. There he saw two lines of wizards wands at the ready and a ball of green light hovering in the center. It was to symbolize the clash of magic without going into gory detail, but he knew what the sub context was. It was still a chilling thought and he was thankful he never had to live through it.

Satisfied with his last drawing he made his way through the other parts of the exhibit finding them all to be equally brilliant. Generally he was used to having pride in his own work, but coming across the different items donated and drawn for the occasion, Atticus had to say that he had never felt more pride in being in Hogwarts. Considering his lack of attention to school work that was saying a lot. By far though his favorite part of the whole event was the floor with the names moving through it. It sent chills up his spine as he walked through and the names appeared and disappeared. Amazing what magic could do.

Despite the grumblings between Fauna and himself, the past was mended and he was feeling on much stronger footing. She had seemed to let it go, and he was willing to look past it this time too, instead of holding a grudge or saving it for later to where he could dig at her for the incident. Walking up behind her he crossed his arms and smirked, "Well I have to say this looks like a success, it really came together." Seeing Waker there he gave her a firm nod since she was there first and he just felt like putting in his two cents.

Atticus looked about the crowd curious if Delilah would be coming to see the booth after their awkward kiss the other day. Inside he was questioning his actions however he had a place to be, it couldn't really be considered his fault right?  His eyes narrowed as he looked for her face and came up empty once more. Maybe it was his fault...

Fauna perked up when an older lady wearing the most dashing hat came to the entrance. The woman’s brave outfit and the way she peered over her spectacles at the art exhibit caused Fauna to take a liking to her immediately. She hoped she had such a fun sense of style when she was that age.

“We just opened,” she answered, her voice higher than usual from excitement and nerves. Fauna moved towards the exhibit and gestured for the lady to do the same.

“I can show you around,” she offered, then spotted the tour group arriving. “Unless you’d like to join my friend Waker and the tour?” Fauna waved at the Ravenclaw, grinning. The compliment Waker gave her was kind, though she really thought that the organization of the show was Waker’s forte. They couldn't have done it without her practical ideas and impressive note-taking abilities! Fauna noticed Waker glancing behind her, so she turned and saw Megan standing slightly off to the side.

Atticus soon appeared with his trademark smirk, but it was easy to see that he was pleased with the show.

"Well I have to say this looks like a success, it really came together."

“It did, didn’t it,” Fauna agreed, her tone almost surprised. Everyone had worked hard and helped each other, despite some bickering (both from the students and the animated portraits), which was to be expected. She found herself smiling again when Waker introduced the rest of the group. Fauna stepped back to stand beside Meg and pulled Atticus back a bit too, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go. Adelia would be here soon, she was sure,  but for now the three artists stood together and Fauna felt proud of what they’d accomplished. It was actually happening. The art exhibit was officially open!

Meg's eyes took a seeping glance around the art booth around her. For just a bunch of students, they managed to pull off a pretty good display for Remembering Day. It felt good for her to actually be apart of something for once at Hogwarts. She would normally not do anything at the castle to even benefit anything, and she would sulk around the castle during the Remembering Day ceremonies, like she did the years prior. True, she did still do that a little, but not nearly as much as she did last year, for example.

However, just because Meg finally helped out with something, that did not mean that she was entirely on board with everything that she had to do. Sure, she freely submitted her own artwork for the exhibit, and collaborated with the other students for the art booth. But, her name was no where to be found on her artwork, and she stepped clearly away from her own artwork. Thus, she was trying not to tie her artwork to herself. Yes, it might seem odd that she would not want credit for her own work, but she feared the criticism that would ensure if her work was not good. Therefore, she would rather remain anonymous.

Meg looked over at Fauna as she stood back, and pulled Atticus along with her. She smiled, and nodded. "Yes, the exhibit looks great," she commented. No, she was not talking about her own artwork, but about everyone else's, and the entire exhibit in general. It really all looked well, and she was not just saying that. She did mean it.

After a few moments, Meg spotted Waker, along with her tour group that she was bringing around. She smiled to Waker, and waved back to her. However, as she did so, she realized that the group was suddenly coming over to her! Now, that would normally be her cue to run, and possibly hide? Or, maybe just pretend that she did not see the tour group? After all, they were not really that noticeable, were they? Despite these waves of thought traveling through her mind, her feet would not let her move. It was as if she was stuck to the floor. That was definitely not a good sign.

Deciding that it would look bad if she stood there, looking glum as the tour group came over, Meg put a smile on her face. Nothing was worse than showing this group of people that she would really rather not be there at that moment. "H-hi e-everyone. I'm Megan," she introduced herself to the group, her voice shaking a little. Clearly, she did not expect to be approached by the tour group. Realizing that the group was there to actually view her artwork, she let out an inward sigh. She definitely did not want to show off her work to all of these people.

"M-my art-artwork is d-down this way," Meg stammered a bit. Gesturing for the group to follow her, her legs began to function normally again. Trying not to make her nervousness not that apparent, she led the group to her artwork. She contemplated leading them to someone else's artwork, but that would be kind of stupid. Waker knew one of the paintings that she put up, and would instantly know which one was hers. The group may not know, but Waker could always point them in the right direction, thus embarrassing her for lying. Therefore, either way she would get entirely nervous about, only just showing her work would relieve some stress.

Meg stepped next to the wall where her artwork was located. She waited for the entire group gathered around her work that she really did not want to show. "Um, t-the m-main th-theme of m-my work i-is healing," she stated, stuttering a bit. "One s-side shows the d-destruction from the w-war. The o-other s-side shows w-what it l-looks like today," she said. She stopped talking after that sentence, knowing that she was stammering like crazy, and probably showed that she was incompetent. Not wanting to view the group's reaction, she turned her gaze down to her toes, awaiting nervously their reactions.

Waker's eyes moved to one Atticus' paintings. Despite what she and Delilah had discussed, and that implied awkwardness of the boy's apparent obsession with drawing Waker's closest female friend, she had to silently admit that he was a very good artist. Perhaps, if she could give herself a nudge in the right direction, she could say as much. They had seemed to get along well enough if keeping their distance in the first art meeting, but that was before the Maddox girl had made a Common Room confession about the Slytherin.

The artful magic used on the floor, especially, was impressive.

The Ravenclaw girl returned the boy's nod, her eyes moving very quickly form Atticus to a painting of near-dueling wizards, as if to subtly suggest that she respected his work. Still, she couldn't bring herself to say anything quite yet, for fear that she might accidentally and most sardonically ask where all of the intricate pencil sketches of Delilah's eyes were being featured, and whether she mightn't bring him some muggle Polaroids to save time. It might have been a less creepy situation entirely if Atticus didn't strike Waker as quiet and somewhat reclusive; ironically, she was not always entirely the opposite kind of personality, and was even close with the boy's similarly-brooding roommate. Waker could be too quick to judge, and too harsh, that was certain.

It was only when Waker was almost directly in front of Megan that she realized the mistake she made; Megan sounded nervous at best. Cringing inwardly, she wondered why she hadn't more blatantly told the group to let Fauna and Atticus start the introductions. Surely there was a protocol to all of this. Waker had even practiced it in her head the night before. She would do the touring, yes, but she felt it was important for the visitors to hear what the actual artists had to say. Luckily, several people from the group had stopped near the entrance, seemingly entranced by the charmwork on the floor. She looked over her shoulder and hoped that the Slytherin was ready to engage them.

Those who had followed Waker like puppies were now staring expectantly at Megan, preparing to follow her wherever she led them. They reminded Waker of a mismatched mob. The Ravenclaw smiled between them, feeling profusely awkward and thinking for the thousandth time in thirty minutes that she should have foregone potential professorial praise and simply wandered about town with her friends. But she liked Fauna too much to ever ditch her, and she was interested in viewing each exhibit properly-- a learning experience. The artwork was captivating, and its manner of display very well thought-out.

When they were finally huddled in front of Megan's work, Waker almost raised a brow at how good it was; she had expected the girl to be a decent artist, of course, given her very Ravenclaw-friendly method of going about it. But it was still a surprise. A breeze of chatter seemed to fill the little space, as the people in the tour group considered and complimented the girl's work.

"It's a very important and powerful juxtoposition," Waker interjected, trying to keep her voice up. Luckily, she had nothing to be nervous about, and was usually the sort of girl who could recite anything semi-professional-sounding in her sleep. She hoped she and Megan could discuss the work at length later. Her next cue was less certain. She wanted to give her housemate ample time to add on or further explain, and then there were countless options as to what to look at next. Maybe Atticus or Fauna would have some clairvoyance, if they weren't too terribly distracted by the troublemaking, sticky-fingered stragglers of the group.

Speaking of sticky fingers...

"Hey!" Said Waker, her eyes locking onto the same old circus act who had got her name wrong and tried to pick up every woman over sixty-five from the school gates to the Three Broomsticks. The man was attempting to pry someone's animated piece from its tidy display. Oh, god, she was failing terribly at this. What would a museum guide do? Surely not hex the crow into oblivion. "Sir," she tried more civilly, but with a hint of desperation and force.