December 20, 2009
Hogwarts Express
Home to London from Hogsmeade

Figaro had settled into a compartment with a couple friends, including Elian Harris.  Fig and Elian had always gotten along even if they didn't cross paths every day.  But lately they'd been getting up to it more often than before, Figaro often marveling at the this-and-that Elian turned up with, at his daring about what he'd steal. 

"So Klepto, what're you doing over hols - are we going to hang out or are you going to be dull and stay in Nottingham the whole time?"

Figaro had his feet up on the seat across the way and was working at getting the plastic film off the top of his cottage cheese container.  Fig much loved the stuff and planned to finish off the whole thing before he arrived at King's Cross.

Elian watched his friends in the compartment, he had finally got the other five Harris children to settle down into thiers without fighting, so he could relax. He had written his mother telling her they were coming home, whether she was sober enough to meet them there or they would have to take a taxi remained to be seen. He shuffled through his pockets until he saw he had enough to get them home. When Figaro kicked his feet up next to him he looked at the shoes then up to his friend.

"That stuff is disgusting by the way," he casually mentioned with a smirk. "As for what I'm doing. You know how it is. Mom will be too drunk to take care of the kids, so I'll be in Nottingham all break. I am however throwing a party. I've finally got the house clean so, I've invited all the students and professors at Hogwarts to a Christmas party. I just have to go home and decorate."

He sat back and before Figaro could see, tied the laces together with another smirk.

Figaro had his eyes down in his cottage cheese and so he didn't notice Elian tie his Adidas for him.  What a good friend.

"It's the best food in the world," he retorted without malice and lifted the plastic container to his mouth to drink a mouthful of it.  It was a little sweet, and always had that clean, fresh, lightly cheesy taste.  The curds were gleaming and firm and slippery.  "Food of the gods," he reiterated and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

He was usually the sort to take the mickey out of Elian who seemed to constantly be baby-sitting his obscene amount of siblings; it was his constant excuse for being lame and not doing anything fun over holidays, but something else he'd said took precedence.

"Wait.  You're inviting who?"  The look of pity and disgust on Figaro's face was one only a true friend could impart.

"Mate, you can't.  No one'll come.  And you don't want teachers in your home, Harris.  Have a real party, for the love of Merlin."

"Sellaphix. Harris. How are you both this evening?" Warren inquired after sliding open the door to the compartment, "I was walking by, looking for my idiot cat that got away, and couldn't help but here you mention you're having a party Harris. I'm afraid I have to agree with Sellaphix on this one, inviting teachers to anything resembling a party sounds like an awful idea."

Warren stretched in the doorway to the room, and his back cracked with a loud pop. As he did a flash of black ran between his feet and into the room Figaro and Elian inhabited. Quick as a flash he jumped in and swooped up the black and smoke colored Devon Rex in one big hand. He repositioned it so he was holding the cat under its front legs with both hands, all while giving the mewing cat his best attempt at an angry look. He slid into the seat next to Figaro, and started to pet his cat. The cat continuously tried to get free, but eventually gave up against the human's superior strength. It also helped that the cat was close enough to the Hufflepuff's cottage cheese to sniff and lick at it.

"Do you gentlemen mind if I occupy this seat for a while. I'm tired of chasing this damn cat around this train. Besides, if you're talking about having a party you'd want someone who has actually been to one to offer advice," he grinned, tossing Sellaphix a sideways smirk.

Chloe opened the door to the already occupied cabin, and sat down, her face in her sketchpad. She was trying to grasp what exactly she had drawn the night before. Chloe had gotten into this habit of waking up in the wee hours of the morning, and drawing the first thing that came to mind, before falling asleep again, and not remembering drawing anything in the morning. It seemed like some kind of monster.

She looked up, before seeing that she was sitting with Warren, Fig, and Elian. She sighed as she looked up. "If you're going to have a party, I can help. I did almost single handedly pull off that party in the Room of Requirement earlier this year." Chloe was quite proud of the party, even though it ended with Heinrich leaving insulted.

Now, my turn. I need some help." She said, putting the sketch pad on her lap. "Can you interpret this at all?" Chloe held up the picture for the guys to see.


"I drew it last night, but i don't have the faintest idea what it is." She admitted.

Elian watched with amusement as Warren came in looking for his cat and couldn't help but laugh as it struggled with all its little cat might to get away. When he heard the rebuke from now....all three sides he shook his head. They were worse than his siblings when he had told them what he was going to do. No, he took that back, the kids, though they weren't really kids being fouth and sixth years themselves, had been worse.

Looking over to Chloe's drawing he shrugged. "Almost looks like a mask, or some symbolic cosmic face," he offered knowing he'd most likely get hit for the blunt obvious answer. "As for the party if you will kindly let me explain. They are invited to the party. It's something my father used to do every year. However, they aren't invited to the after party."

He smiled with a mischevious look in his eye that said he was planning something.

Warren adjusted his robes while holding his cat in one hand. Despite all the love he gave the little beast it still fought him. He slid forward and looked over the sketch that Chloe had presented to the room. Warren was a fan of art himself, but more often than not he found himself admiring more conventional creations. He could spend all day looking at the nuances in shifting clouds on a watercolor landscape, or point out the differences between Rococo and Baroque paintings. However as soon as he had to think about what he was looking at, he became completely lost. He gave it the old Hogwarts try anyway and screwed up his face while looking at Chloe's drawing.

"Smoke less gillyweed before bed?" he finally conceded, "Or maybe it's about the siren song of space, and how it lures men into its dark abyss. Or maybe just a siren. Or possibly just the abyss. If that is the case don't stare at it too terribly long."

He slid back against the seat in the compartment, and stroked his dumb cat more. He turned to Harris and nodded along with his explanation. His guess at the picture seemed a little mundane to Warren, but not altogether unlikely.

"Well then, who are the lucky people invited to the after after party?" 

Figaro tossed his head, "Psh!" when Warren insinuated Figaro didn't know how to party.  Figaro was a mighty party animal.  It was criminal.  He partied so hard he got hit in the mouth.  Oh, sir, he partied, thanks much.  But he grinned and reached over to give Warren's kitty a scritch behind the ear.   Figaro loves kitties.  His mom kept a few at home.

He moved his feet a little bit for Chloe when she joined them but wasn't ready to give up his foot space.  "That was a good party," he agreed when she mentioned the revelry in the Room of Requirement.  He'd brought Logorrhea and there'd been billiards - and also some fighting.  All ingredients for a bubbling potion.

Figaro only glanced up at her drawing.  "It's a face," he offered like some professor of art history, but that wasn't what was on his mind.  It was Elian and his bizarre notions of what fun was.

"Alright then, fine.  Sign me up for the after party, but I'm telling you - the last thing you want is Professor Storm lurking round your kitchen.  He'd eat your little brother," Figaro said, referring to the youngest of the Harris clan.