May 3 at 11

Meg let out a light yawn as she was painting a picture up in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Earlier in the day, she had attended the Student Art Booth that was in Hogsmeade, and it ended only four hours ago. It had been fun, and a bit nerve racking at first. In the first tour group that had came up to her, led by Waker, she had stuttered so badly. It made her appearance at the mural painting seem like cakewalk. Despite that rough beginning, she was able to gain more confidence in her artwork, and not stutter at all during the course of the day.

Now, it was at night, and Meg had taken her artwork back up into the Ravenclaw Common Room. She had actually failed to bring it back up to her dorm room yet. She had simply laid the pieces of artwork down on a nearby table. Rather, she had decided to paint another picture for a bit. It was eleven at night, and most of the students managed to get to bed already, but not the fourth year Ravenclaw. She was still awake, and she was painting to hopefully make time go by faster.

So far, that idea wasn't working out too well. It still appeared as if the time was slowly ticking away, and Meg still did not feel tired at all. Hopefully she would be able to feel tired a bit later. But, sadly, not yet. She was painting a picture of the current Headmaster of Hogwarts on her sketchpad. She had taken notes the night of the Remembering Day ceremony, and decided to use them. However, she decided against completing this piece of artwork for the art booth, since it might bring back unpleasant memories from the day before.

But, this piece of artwork was different from the ones that she showed at the art booth. Meg decided to go for a simpler style. It was a picture of the Headmaster, yes. But, she painted a pure black background. Make that, the entire painting was black. She was tracing Headmaster's Knox's outline in white. Her notebook was open near her, since she decided to add a quote from the Headmaster on her painting. She was attempting to show symbolism in this painting, even if it was unlikely that anyone would see it. After all, she liked to finish her work completely, no matter if it was ever going to see the light of day. With a smile on her face, she continued to paint Headmaster Knox's features.

Carrying a little satchel full of belongings, a toothbrush, towel, and comb among them, Waker traversed silently from the girls' bathroom up to Ravenclaw's tower, and to her dormitory. It was later than when she ordinarily might have taken care of her nightly rituals, but it had been a long morning and afternoon, and the holiday was still running strong. She'd been looking for Delilah all day, and that the same time, possibly subconsciously avoiding her, as they each seemed to have a lot on their plates and much to discuss.

After putting away her things and changing into her pajamas, and with no Delilah yet in sight, Waker decided she would squeeze in some diary-writing before she chatted with her best friend. She grabbed her newest journal, a fresh quill, and a small bottle of black ink, and floated back down to the common room to embrace the familiarity of her favorite armchair. Like the beech tree she often haunted outdoors, the chair was a longtime companion of Waker's.

But before the Ravenclaw could even set eyes on her late-night retreat, she noticed another recognizable someone lingering in the common room. She glanced at her watch before looking back at the girl. "Megan?" She asked, approaching slowly; the fourth year was obviously busy painting. Waker had felt bad earlier, when she'd accidentally led a large group of eccentric and overwhelming strangers straight to her fellow Ravenclaw's display. She was sure, were she to do it again, she could have been smoother about it. And she hadn't even had much of a chance to ask Megan about her work, even if she'd very much enjoyed what she'd seen.

"Are you painting something new for the holiday displays?" She asked quietly, keeping her diary pressed to her chest, and her arms crossed. She thought she saw a familiar face from where she was standing, but it might have just been the light in the tower. She didn't want to step on any toes by invading the girl's personal space, which she might or might not have already done. "I really liked your work, what I saw of it-- I hope I didn't... mess you up. With the tour," she clarified, feeling rather awkward. It was not worth pointing out, but apologizing and comforting were always not Waker's forte.

The student art booth was certainly a great idea, and Meg did have fun while being in it. After having a rocky start to the day, everything ended up perfectly fine. Clearly, her apprehension was what caused her strange behavior in the art booth, along with the mural painting. She wasn't normally nervous or nearly as shy as she appeared before. Thankfully everything turned out for the best after everything was done.

Her apprehension was not necessarily about the crowds or the people watching. No. Meg was concerned about people judging her artwork. She was purely afraid of criticism. She was perfectly fine with her artwork, but she was afraid of critics telling her that her artwork sucked. Therefore, she chose to withhold her artwork from view. Well, that was until just recently. She wasn't as nervous at the mural painting since it wasn't just her artwork. Although she contributed to the artwork, it was not her own personal work. Therefore, any criticism wouldn't be squarely on her shoulders alone. It was a group effort, and that was clearly what it was.

So, if Meg showed the current work that she was completing, that would make her apprehensive. She was fully aware that not too many students were up at that time of night, so it was clearly a perfect time for her to complete her artwork. She continued to outline Headmaster Knox's face, focusing on painting his mouth. Thus, she was intentionally making Headmaster Knox's mouth completely white.

While she was painting, a fellow Ravenclaw entered the Common Room. Hearing her name called, Meg looked up to search for the person who had addressed her. She smiled as she noticed that it was Waker who had joined her in the room. "Hi Waker," she greeted cheerfully. Clearly she did not feel tired yet, especially with her enthusiastic greeting to Waker. She shook her head at the question directed to her. "It's not intended for the holiday display. I'm finally using those notes that you observed me making at the Remembering Day Ceremony," she responded.

It might have appeared odd that Meg was taking notes during that ceremony. But, she did have plans to use it. True, those plans did change from her original ideas, but that did not mean that she still couldn't do those plans. It was just that she couldn't complete the plans in her same ideas. Looking over at Waker, she smiled to her. "It's fine. I just…I was a bit apprehensive. No worries, you didn't mess me up. It just took me by surprise," she responded with a reassuring look. "Feel free to look at it again if you'd like, I know how hard it must've been to see while giving tours," she gestured to her artwork on the table next to her.

Waker was relieved to hear the friendliness in the younger girl's voice. She didn't sound hesitant or angry; thank goodness. The sixth year had been worried that she'd unintentionally put too much on Megan's shoulders that morning. She also wondered what Fauna, Atticus, and Adelia had thought of the tours, and the people in the groups in particular, but she had been most concerned with accidentally stampeding her housemate.

"It's not intended for the holiday display. I'm finally using those notes that you observed me making at the Remembering Day Ceremony."

At this, Waker loosened her stance and found herself feeling considerably less awkward about having approached the Ruiz girl. She looked closer at the piece Megan was now working on, keen to see how the fourth year would translate the unplanned events of the Memorial Ceremony to a canvas. The face she'd thought she saw before was... "Professor Knox," she murmured, tilting her head. A smile danced at her own lips as stared at the white mouth on the paper. She didn't know what she'd been expecting at the last moment before glancing down, but she was relieved to see the Headmaster there, and to know that her mind hadn't been playing tricks. His image was more comforting than some of what had happened... George's uncle came to mind. "That's amazing," she encouraged sincerely, resisting the urge to touch it. She looked up and nodded at the girl. "Can I ask how you interpreted the ceremony, though? And decided to focus on him?" So much had happened.

"It's fine. I just…I was a bit apprehensive. No worries, you didn't mess me up. It just took me by surprise... Feel free to look at it again if you'd like, I know how hard it must've been to see while giving tours."

This was further confirmation that nothing was wrong, and Waker was again glad to hear it. "Good... That makes me feel better," she admitted, grinning almost sheepishly. "If I were you, I'd want to hex me to next year." Her gaze moved from Megan to the table, and she finally took a moment to study the art she'd only been able to look at in passing. It really was good. And a small part Waker felt rather proud to have a talented artist alongside her in Ravenclaw. Too often they were written off as merely too bookish... like Waker. Ahem. "These are really wonderful. Are you joining that art club full time?" Waker quizzed; she'd been meaning to join more clubs herself, to boost her resume, but she would have been miserable at drawing anything beyond a tic-tac-toe square. The muggle appreciation club was always an option, but she didn't know to bring it up to Delilah or Jasper.

Meg finished up out-lining Headmaster Knox's face on her painting. Thus, she began to paint the Headmaster's features a bit more. The entire face was white. The only portion that was colored in fully white was the mouth, which was open, as if talking. Switching to red for a moment, she drew an outline of a small portion of the stage in red paint, giving off no more details of the stage. Yes, many events were made on that stage, and she figured that it would be important to include as a part of the piece.

Tilting her head to the side for a moment, Meg watched as Waker took a look at her art work. She was used to the other girl viewing her work by now, and thus she wouldn't attempt to hide it from her. It would've been embarassing for her to even attempt, and thankfully she didn't. She nodded simply at Waker's response. Yes, the very same Headmaster of their school, and their History of Magic Professor as well. "Thanks," she responded to the compliment that she recieved.

Meg simply smiled to Waker at the question. "Interpretations are most noticible on the details given. I focused on the Headmaster since he was one of the few inspiring figures of the night. One of the students and the Minister were inspiring as well, but Headmaster Knox is one of the most viewed while in this castle. Well, at least he is to me. I painted his head on here with black all around it. I did that to represent the darkness and evil intentions of what happened during the event. I included only a small portion of the stage, since, well, there really is no reason for that only that I cannot possibly fit more in. But, I outlined it in red to symbolize the two murders that happened while on that stage. Now, I will need to place an inspiring quote on the top," she commented. She had never told anyone specifically that much about her art work at all, so it was easy for her to ramble on a bit.

Looking to Waker, Meg smiled and grinned to what Waker said. "I wouldn't have done that no matter what happened, even if you criticized me," she responded with a nod. She was clearly not that mean enough to do that, especially to someone who clearly never attempted to provoke her at all. "Thanks," she stated simply at another compliment. She nodded to Waker's question. "I do intend to join the art club, and hopefully I won't arrive incredibly late again. But, don't expect me to start being excited about showing my work to vast amounts of suspicious people," she commented with a grin to show that she was kidding.

Waker agreed that the Headmaster's speech had been most inspiring, but even she hadn't been able to retain all of what was said after watching the horrific murders unfold. She'd tried to block it all from her mind a dozen times over, in fact, but she somehow always returned to the painfully sharp and detailed memory of Kyle Gibson attacking the heroic-- and now prematurely dead-- wizards. It made her shudder to think that it was only two days ago, and the day before that, she'd been planning to hang around Hogsmeade with George, when she wasn't trying to earn extra credit or keep rowdy tour-goers from harassing the locals.

"It's almost like analyzing a passage for Ancient Runes," she humored. She'd meant it as a compliment. There were so many layers, hidden but meaningful. The degree of thought that went into even the smallest of the girl's art seemed rather shocking, in fact. Again, Waker was glad to see such a mind in Ravenclaw. She continued, but almost sadly, as she studied the face of the man who had undoubtedly had a harder week than-- and perhaps decade-- than all of them. As many speeches as Waker had given in her life, mostly in classrooms, she didn't think any compared to the professor's way with words. It was a gift, subtle and powerful at the same time. She hoped to be a fraction as 'inspirational' one day.

Waker lingered on the red, especially, unable to stop herself. It brought back more flashes of memory, the only comfort being the very same fourth year, who had been sitting beside her two nights ago. It was weird to share such an experience, particularly with someone she didn't know extremely well. Waker was never an open book when it came to emotions. But the tragedy at the memorial service was this sort of thing that made her realize, if only fleetingly, that not every challenge was meant to be met on one's own. They did need people; each other. But she could rarely bring herself to admit anything of the sort aloud. How many times had she been awkward in her attempts to console her closest friends?

There was fairness in the girl's voice; maybe too much. Waker imagined she definitely would have been harsher on someone, were the roles were reversed. She was too much of a perfectionist, too wound up in those presentation situations, to not be upset if caught off guard; but then she didn't know if she would allow herself to show it in public. Afterward? Definitely. Much like her private rants to innocent Hufflepuffs in the lavatory.

"At least it wasn't a class," Waker reasoned, with a small smirk. Time management was one of her fondest hobbies, if it could be considered as much. On second thought, that sounded rather pathetic. She wanted to wince at herself, but stopped. She could only imagine the look on Delilah's face if she'd admitted it aloud (not that she needed to). "I don't think Fauna minded the lateness. She seemed really glad to have you there." And it was true. "Good, you should join... diversify your resume, decorate some of these bland corridors." Or produce the next Mona Lisa?

Laughing a bit at Megan's next comment, Waker placed a hand over her heart. "No more creepy old men on my watch. In fact, I think I'll be handing in my name tag-- not that it did a lot of good." She'd been called three different types of food or cooking utensils, and something that sounded suspiciously like a member of an old religious sect, in the impressive span of five minutes, at one point. "Someone else can tell them to keep their hands and feet in the cart at all times next year." Not that there had been a cart; it would have been even more disastrous.

The murders during the Ceremony were certainly tragic, despite the fact that Meg did not even know the people involved. Clearly, it would've been hard for her to even know who those people were. She was still in school, and therefore she wouldn't have known the people unless she had a form of outside connect to them. In her case, that did not happen. The murders were inherently evil, and therefore she would not show that. Perhaps that was why the stage in her painting lacked any form of detail, besides the basic outline of the stage.

With a small smile, Meg shook her head at Waker's comment. "There are books to help analyze what a rune means, along with a class here devoted to that. To analyze a piece of art, you need your mind. No matter what I attempt to convey in my artwork, it will be remembered more on what other people think of it," she responded with a clear Ravenclaw-like response. She took Ancient Runes, and sometimes she found depicting strange-looking carvings in a picture from some old abandoned cave easier than analyzing her own work. Whether or not Waker would agree with her, she had no idea, but that was how she felt. Artists could make their ideas easy to interpret or harder.

The young Ravenclaw knew too well that the murders just recently happened before a good portion of the magical community. To her, it was hurtful to watch. Clearly, it would effect others as well. She had been with the older Ravenclaw with her now at that Ceremony while the murders were happening. It wasn't a pretty picture to watch, and she figured that Waker found it abhorring as well.

Being forced out of her thoughts, Meg giggled lightly at Waker's comment. "True, but my first year had plenty of those," she responded. She was usually late, and got lost too frequently. She seemed to be getting better at navigating the castle so far. Hopefully she wouldn't get lost anymore, or at the very least, that she wouldn't get lost as bad as she did during her first year. She nodded to Waker's point on Fauna. "Yes, she did," she replied. Yet again, she laughed at what Waker said. "Sadly, I don't determine what is hung on these walls. For me to even do that, I would need to convince the others in the art club, and Headmaster Knox himself," she responded.

Meg knew of some of the things that happened to Waker earlier in the day. She smiled to what Waker said. "Sadly, they appeared to be hard to keep controlled," she responded, especially after seeing what happened while at the student art booth. "Ooh, and don't forget not to touch anything either," she added. Thankfully nothing broke in their displays, but it was possible if people kept touching stuff.

"There are books to help analyze what a rune means, along with a class here devoted to that. To analyze a piece of art, you need your mind. No matter what I attempt to convey in my artwork, it will be remembered more on what other people think of it,"

Waker considered the words at first without a reaction. She mulled them over, letting her mind weigh them, as she did with so many other things. She occasionally (read: frequently) loathed to admit it, but it was absolutely true: books could only take a person so far. Art might have been a tangible thing, but it required an incorporeal analysis, and one entirely unlike the mental breakdown of a chart or a rune. It was as much about heart as it was mind. That was the cloudy line that always perplexed Waker, not because she didn't know how to use her heart, but because she was always too quick to apply structured logic to everything.

“Mmm…” She nodded. “Each piece has to be considered entirely on its own.” Though some artists undoubtedly influenced others, Waker knew there was no etched-in-stone logic in matters of canvas and paint… charcoals, pencils, clay, and parchment. Each person looking at it gave its own meaning, just as Waker was doing now, and just Megan was trying to explain. “But aren’t you worried—” She hesitated; it was a stupid question. And of course one Waker would ask. Always thinking of the future. “Aren’t you worried people will interpret it and remember an entirely different way than you intended?”

Was that why Megan had been shy about sharing her art? Come to think of it, such a notion would terrify the sixth year. She liked to be on control. She had the (sometimes fatal) habit of micromanaging her own life. The idea of not laying everything out perfectly, and explaining her work exactly was a foreign one. She often turned in concise outlines with finished essays.

First years, however much they sometimes baffled the older girl (and only child), got a free pass with tardiness. The school was massive, even for the most map-wielding of eleven-year-olds.

"Sadly, I don't determine what is hung on these walls. For me to even do that, I would need to convince the others in the art club, and Headmaster Knox himself.”

Even as a Professional Rule Abider, Waker felt there was room to talk with the professors. One just had to know how to go about it. Funnily, it was those sorts of things that were always easier for Waker than, say, discussing matters of the heart. “Honestly, I think he’s the sort of man who would love the idea. He seems to like getting everyone involved…” She thought back to the many history lessons where’d they been made to present or mock real life. The students’ opinions and expressions were forever on display under the Headmaster’s gaze. Waker was rather confident he loved to encourage such things. “But, yes, it is up to the club as a whole, I guess. Unless you hijack everyone’s murals and go on a midnight museum spree.” Hanging paintings without permission seemed slightly less scandalous than adding graffiti to statues of centaurs and knights.

"Sadly, they appeared to be hard to keep controlled… Ooh, and don't forget not to touch anything either.”

Waker was glad someone had noticed; she wondered whether they might not think it was just she who couldn’t keep rowdy senior citizens under civil obedience. She’d done everything short of hexing old men into their graves! “Yes, just a bit,” she admitted sarcastically, with a grin. “I was tempted to owl that nursing home in Diagon Alley—is that completely awful of me?” Brushing her fingers over the side of her face, she took a seat near the table and continued to look over each painting. “I will send owls if they try to steal anything else, don’t worry.” And they wouldn’t be to a nursing home.

While she was waiting for Waker's response, Meg glanced over at her notebook nearby with all of the quotes on it. The interpretations of her art mainly depended on what she included in it. The quote that she would choose would effect on how people would even see her art. Thus, it was generally hard for her to create pieces of art that would convey the same message that she thought.

Looking back to Waker, Meg nodded to the older girl's comment. "Yes, unless it's apart of a general collection, which would be a bit different," she responded. With Waker's next question, Meg simply smiled at it. It was an obvious question to her, which she believed was answered by her odd reactions. "To that, I remind you of my reaction earlier today. I would have rather run away from showing my work, but that clearly wasn't possible anymore. My name's not even on my own work because of it. Even this art work of Headmaster Knox…Without the quote that I'm about to put on it, it could essentially mean anything other than what I told you," she responded with a nod. It was definitely a major problem that she, at the very least, attempted to address.

Meg honestly did not know what Waker had thought about her nervous encounter with the tour group that Waker had been showing around. Naturally, she knew why she was nervous, but she had no idea what Waker thought. She was certainly not normally shy, often the one to first initiate a conversation. Speaking in front of a crowd was the last thing on her mind, thus that was surely not something that would've gotten her so immensely nervous. The only other thing would've been her art, and it simply was.

While she was listening to Waker, Meg shrugged. "I never really had a type of discussion with Headmaster Knox about pitching ideas," she stated. It was simply the truth, since she never did before, thus it was rather foreign to her. She nodded to Waker's comment. "Yes, anything else would be unfair. If any of the other members are like me, then that would be tough," she joked.

Meg giggled to Waker's reaction about the crowd of people that she had brought out on a tour. Certainly, she probably would've yelled at the people in the group if that happened to her. At least Waker didn't resort to violence. "No, it's not awful. If it was me, I probably would've hexed them and make it look like an accident. Yes, there's no need to let them do it," she responded.

Waker followed the younger girl’s gaze to a notebook, but kept silent. She couldn’t see its contents from her position, but assumed it was full of the artist’s research, or artsy secrets, or both. Did artists have secrets? Well, everyone had secrets. But Waker imagined the passionately creative had more to keep quiet than the average student. It was fascinating and unsettling… though she highly doubted Megan Ruiz was anything like Atticus Pennyapple, of whom Waker was still somewhat suspicious given his fascination with drawing one of her closest friends.

A collection. Of course. Like a grouping of anything else, a display of art often had a common theme—and yet each piece was still its own whole, most of the time. She supposed even the Remembering Day contributions, with their various artists and scaling interpretations, were united in that sense.

It was a brave thing for Megan to do, to put herself out there. To let other people judge and jump to conclusions. It was a wild leap of faith that made Waker a touch envious, or at least longing, but she would never say as much. “Well, you know what they say… we all have a bit of Gryffindor in us.” Or maybe someone in particular had told Waker she was a lion on the inside. Mmhmm. Uncrossing her arms a bit, and letting them hang at the sides of her pajamas, she continued to look from the painting to the girl, to the rest of her now-accessible artwork. “I guess… if you know what it means to you, maybe you learn not to care so much what other people think?” Wishful thinking. That would have been the ultimate of hurtles for the older girl, even when she claimed to cling to detachment. “That sounds as if it would take practice,” she added in a murmur, almost darkly to herself.

“Well, if the art club ever needs help with that sort of thing…” Waker trailed off for a moment. She’d extended such an offer to Fauna before, and was glad to do it again for people who were genuinely interested in being involved around the school. Too many students floated through life without a care or a plan. Granted, Waker sometimes took it to an extreme, and had to be coaxed out of such rigid schedules by the more ‘go-with-the-flow’ of her friends. “I’m much better at negotiating with professors than painting myself as the next Picasso,” she joked, almost sheepishly. The pun was silly, but she found she didn’t really mind being a dork in front of a fellow Ravenclaw. Not all of the time, anyway.

“Hex and run?” Waker was definitely the evasive sort. Hexing someone under the guise of innocence sounded promising, if also slightly immoral. Sometimes it was the only solution. Reciting rules and asking a person to behave couldn’t count for everything. And even Waker had a witchy side. “I like the way you think. Maybe you should give tours yourself, Megan.”

During her conversation with Waker, she generally kept away from her art that she was working on. It was impetrative that it dried before she tried anything else on it. Now that it was all dry, the young girl wanted to write a quote on the painting. It would give the painting meaning, and help with her idea of what her artwork actually meant. She raised the brush in her hand, and wrote in cursive, a quote by Headmaster Knox in white paint:

"We must remind ourselves that all people are accountable for peace.  Magic or muggle. "

It seemed rather obvious that she would include a quote about muggles, considering the fact that she was a muggle. But, she felt it was an inspiring quote that should be reflected with how people act. She wrote the quote in a neat cursive handwriting, which was a lot better than her own handwriting usually.

Meg couldn't help by giggle at what Waker said about having a little bit of Gryffindor in every person. "If that were so, mine clearly has never shown up," she responded. Yes, it was a comment that showered how low her self-confidence was, but it was the truth to her, too. She shook her head at Waker's comment. "If I want other people to like my work, I'd have to create art to how I see an observer viewing it, not me. If someone thinks my artwork's crap, there's a good chance that other's would believe that too, no matter how I try to make it look," she responded to Waker. Yes, it was a hard concept to grasp, but it was the truth.

Meg looked over at Waker. "I'm not the president…yet…but I'll keep that in mind. I might mention something about that when the club eventually meets, but I'd need to convince the rest first," she responded. Despite the way that Waker's comment sounded, she couldn't help but giggle again. "Everyone's good at different things," she pointed out.

Tilting her head slightly, Meg shrugged at Waker's comment. "I'd probably be fighting more with the people then showing them around," she commented.

Waker watched as the headmaster’s face became ever more distinguishable. The girl’s handwriting was attractive, and fluidly complimented the artwork itself, adding just the right touch, the right something that would convey her own meaning to strangers’ eyes. Waker felt the quote was one that many of her peers could stand to have flashed before them time and time again. Despite all of the change in the last ten years, the Ravenclaw knew more than one person who still clung, covertly or not so subtly, to ideas of superiority based on blood.

On a broader, more universal scale, it was a nice juxtaposition: a reminder amidst a terrible act of violence. There was sanity in the statement, and Waker quietly appreciated it— much more than she could say aloud, to be sure.

“That’s an excellent quote,” she assured her younger housemate. “You really should show your work to more people—” Waker wasn’t just being civil. How many people who regularly ignored the history books in their trunks would relate more easily to a painting with a carefully chosen phrase? Things like this were often much more resonating than lengthy blocks of text, even Waker had to admit. “I wonder what sort of foresight you have,” she added pensively, looking more keenly still at the painting. “I bet that quote will show up in the textbooks in another ten years.” With any luck. Someone’s wisdom deserved to be remembered after what had happened two nights ago. It still made Waker unspeakably angry, sad, stressed, and unhopeful.

Waker had claimed the same, but she had an inkling that Megan too had a bit of boldness in there somewhere. She kept this to herself, and smiled reservedly; there was no use arguing. Time would tell. Even Megan’s next point seemed to imply a bit of bravery, even if it was unbeknown to her. It was such a strange notion, such a lot to take in, and not in the ‘memorize this chart for class’ sort of way. But she could understand the logic. Waker knew artists created for themselves as much as anyone, but for those who were particularly timid about putting themselves on the line, the public reaction had to plague them at some point, surely. “But then…” She paused to reflect, choosing her words carefully. “When you look at other people’s work, do you try to get into their minds? Analyze it the way you think the other artist intended?” Or did she give it her own meaning entirely? There was so much analysis in the world; people could major in art history without ever having lifted a brush. She was curious to hear the opinion of someone who did, however.

Not president yet. Waker smirked. She felt bad for finding it a humorously attractive notion, but there was a touch of Ravenclaw sassiness in the comment, and she could relate. “Well, someone will have to take over when Fauna graduates,” she interjected innocently enough. “Assuming no one has managed to destroy the castle by then.” They had more than a few rambunctious peers. “I’m still surprised everything was left in tact after the reenactment—did you see it?” She smiled; it had been highly entertaining, even with the little hitches and quirks in various performances. She could only imagine what the poor Headmaster had gone through during the rehearsals. Everyone was, indeed, good at different things.

“Oh, trust me, it was highly tempting. I could have practiced my Conjunctivitis Curse if I weren’t wearing a name badge.” Which definitely had not read ‘Baker’, thanks very much.

After a few moments, Meg was finished writing out the quote. Naturally, most of her artwork did not contain a quote, or any words for that matter. The words would make it a lot easier to show exactly how she felt, even though they weren't her own words. Upon finishing the quote, she made sure to credit Headmaster Knox right underneath it with his name and the date of the Ceremony. Copying was never tolerated in their schoolwork, and it certainly wouldn't be tolerated in a piece of art, especially if she were to show that piece to other people.

Flashing a smile to Waker, Meg nodded. "Thanks. Ah, I wish it were that easy, but I believe we both know how my self-confidence recently played out," she responded. Yes, the way she acted in the student art booth showed that she didn't have that much confidence in her own artwork. She knew that she would eventually need to get over that fear, but it was still reigning in her. "Probably none. I chose that quote since it gave the best inspiration of the night. Major historical events usually will get mentioned, even a little, in a history textbook. But, I wouldn't know," she responded with a confused look on her face. She knew enough about history both magical and muggle to know convenient themes in both, and of how items reminiscent to the event would be included in a history book. "If the quote is, perhaps you might be seeing this painting again?" she offered with a smile on her face. It was always possible that her artwork could be chosen, probably not likely, but it was possible.

Bravery was an idea that Meg had never thought of in herself before. When Waker had mentioned it, she had simply dismissed it. But, was it an actual fact that she had never noticed? She did play for the Ravenclaw Qudditch team, which could imply bravery since she wouldn't be afraid of playing rough. She had ventured into the magical community back as a first year, even though there was little chance that she could fit in properly. Make that, the fact that she currently stood where she was showed some from of bravery since she didn't back down from a daunting challenge. Perhaps there was some braveness in her, since it did show at times? Well, it certainly wasn't something she was about to concede to Waker, since she was quick to denounce it.

Meg smiled to Waker's question. Yes, she talked about how others would view her work, but now it came to how she viewed other people's work. Somehow, it came full circle. "The first thing to remember that each piece of art has a meaning. I'd rather first find the meanings that each piece of art could contain. Then, I'd justify those analysis's that could be justified by the artwork, depending on the culture and time that the artwork was created. I might even research the person if I couldn't tell, to find out what the artwork could mean. The more information that I could find out about the culture, or events that happened around the time period, the easier it is to find the most accurate analysis. Questioning why certain things are in a piece of artwork could yield important facts. But, I must stress again, a piece of art is given its meaning by the beholder. What I think could be right or wrong, I wouldn't know," she responded with her Ravenclaw-like response.

Meg simply shrugged to what Waker said. "I don't know what'll happen in the future. Fauna will be our president for next year. There are plenty of talented people in the club, so it'll be up in the air right now," she responded. Of course, it would be nice to be president, but she wouldn't say if she would be or not. It was clearly too early to say at the moment. In order for her to become the President, she must be more involved in the club, that would be for sure.

Giggling, Meg nodded to the question poised to her. "Yeah, I saw it. Despite how serious it was supposed to be, it was pretty funny. All of those different personalities on one stage was bound to cause chaos," she responded. "Or you could've practiced your potion making in their drinks."

"Thanks. Ah, I wish it were that easy, but I believe we both know how my self-confidence recently played out,”

Waker couldn’t blame her, but, like with most things, she assumed there was no better way to defeat than constant practice and revision. Revision in how one presented things, that was. She hardly thought art was the sort of thing that could be perpetually revised… unless that was the artist’s intention, and then it was completely fair game, if also a little unorthodox. In a way, though, many wizarding paintings constantly reinvented themselves in their animation and interaction with the physical world. “Maybe have a conversation with Sir Cadagon right before you present your next work,” she suggested. “No piece of art in the history of mankind could be as annoying. That’s got to be a confidence booster.” Not that she thought Megan’s art was anywhere near annoying. The girl’s work was quite enjoyable.

"If the quote is, perhaps you might be seeing this painting again?"

“Most definitely,” Waker agreed, nodding. Again, she thought Megan was being too modest, but a large part of her appreciated it. There was a carefulness in modesty, just as there was in planning ahead, keeping notes, and crediting people. They were familiars. Methods that controlled madness.

The younger girl continued to talk, sounding to Waker more relaxed and open now that they were on the universal subject of art instead of pinpointing Megan’s own. Her opinions were, Waker mused, spoken like a true Ravenclaw. Which was even funnier, given the brief mention of Gryffindors.

“It’s very methodical and abstract at the same time,” the older girl concluded, unsure whether to smile or frown because of it. She liked a good challenge, but she could also be annoyed when she couldn’t reach a proper answer. Art, though, was different. There was something else to appreciate. At any rate, she was impressed with Megan’s thoughtful answer. How many of their schoolmates would come up with such a response?

“Just hang in there. The person who deserves it usually gets in the end…” Or not. Waker wished she could believe that. Sometimes there were other determining factors. “Unless another member’s father donated all of the paintings on the fifth floor. Then you might be in trouble.”

Waker smiled and rolled her eyes. She could only imagine the demands of drama queens, kings, and future tabloid starlets. There were more than one ingredient Waker would wish to mi into their ‘drinks’ by the end of the thing. She’d heard Fauna was a stagehand in addition to running the art booth, and she wondered how. There was multitasking, and then there was insanity. “I don’t know, but the Headmaster should have required them all to write an essay on their experiences. That would make interesting wall art, too.”

Meg looked over at Waker, as she spoke to her. But, she didn't really see how looking at someone else's work would lift her self-confidence. Rather, she believed that it would do the exact opposite. It would probably lower her self-confidence even more, if that would be possible. After all, the painting of Sir Cadagon was placed in Hogwarts, and thus that meant that someone thought that the painting was good, and deserved a place in Hogwarts. She shrugged at what Waker said. "Probably not. The fact that Sir Cadagon's painting is hanging in the castle would lower my confidence," she responded. That comment was actually less about her, and technically more about fact. Even though Sir Cadagon might be annoying, he was hung up in Hogwarts as it was.

Meg nodded to Waker agreeing with her. It was always a possibility that her work might be featured, though it was most likely that it wouldn't happen at all. Yet, she could wish, couldn't she? Or, at the very least, she could think about it. There was certainly nothing wrong with that.

Meg smiled, and shrugged at Waker's response to her odd way of looking at art. "There's no one correct way to look at art," she commented briefly. Yes, so whether or not her way was right, she would have no idea. Though, the only way where she could see if it worked, would be to study a recent piece of art, then ask the painter. Otherwise, there was really no true way to look at art.

Shrugging, Meg understood what Waker was saying. True, if she did deserve it, she should be able to get it. But, that didn't mean that others deserved it more than her. That certainly would be something to watch fore. It was clearly too early to say whether or not she would be deserving of it. "Well, hopefully it will all work out correctly, and let's see how hard I could possibly try for it," she responded. Determination was clearly important to achieve one's dreams.

Shaking her head, Meg couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Yes, and rereading certain captions from some would've been interesting. It could be an interesting art piece as well," she commented.