Halfway into breakfast.

This was it. The most glorious day of the year had come, and all that barmpottery about exams had been blissfully forgotten. Even tho momentarily, because there was still today. An as demic as it had all been, everything was worth it for just this moment.

The Mint Team of Pure Awesome, as Phillip had come to call them, had been in heavy preparations all morning long. With the help of a lil' Gryffie with a bright future ahead, namely Keegan Kearney, and his mint acting skills, under the guise of needing some baking soda, t' settle his tummy, lil' dudes, just look at the poor lad, Phillip had visited the kitchens just as the elves were preparing for breakfast[1]. From there, slipping a few drops of potion here and there, while the elves fussed 'bout Keegan, had been doodey easy.

Now with breakfast underway, 't was a matter of mere minutes before the effects started kicking in, and perhaps it might've been a yee bit odd, that Phillip had been grinning like some barmy lunatic, instead of lookin' like th' wreck o' Thesperus with his heads in th' biscuits, because NEWTs... But nothing, nothing could make him wipe the demented grin o' his face.

"Ere yar, mate. In'nit a sublime mor, ey?" he said to no one in particular, nodding at himself as if particularly pleased in the proceedings. Which he was, mind you. E'rything had been running smooth as Alex's hair. And tha' was the best comparison ever. Speaking of, he leaned back a little and looked for her over at the Ravie table. When he caught her eye, he lifted his wrist and tapped at his wrist watch. If his calculations were right, the transformation ought to be starting right about now.

Ye gods, this was gon' be the best bloody day of all his time at Hogwarts. Except the day when he and Harpy became a thing... 'Cause tha' was one for the ages.

---

*If you don't know what this is, please check the epic thread of epic plotting.

1.	With Alisha's permission!

If there was such a thing as a Wizarding BAFTA for Best Actor, then Keegan would have taken it home, hands down.

"AHHHHH.... Me gut... I'm gonna puke..." He whined and moaned, clutching his stomach like he had to hold his intestines in lest they wander off. Between gagging and dry heaving, he slipped a Puking Pastille in his mouth. He had never had the Weasley's candies before, but his father has surprised him with a gift of multi-hued chews that caused a myriad of horrible ailments. He took a sly bite out of the orange half while Phillip wheeled and dealed the Houseelves, who were obviously bewildered to why such a sick lad would come to the kitchens rather than the healers hut. Emergency was the excuse given and Keegan sealed the deal by promptly, as if on cue, vomiting last nights dinner all over one unfortunate elf who had made the mistake of approaching the boy with a glass of ginger tea.

Keegan kept up the 'act', though the Pastille gave him little choice, and kept vomiting into a pot hastily handed to him as Houseelves ran around frantically trying to keep the sick from getting in the food. Out of the corner of his eye, Keegan watched for Phillip. When the elder boy reappeared, Keegan surreptitiously shoved the other half of the pastille in his mouth. The vomiting immediately ceased and he gave them a bright, suspiciously minty, smile as he handed back a half filled pot. Merlin, he hoped they didn't confuse it with the soup!

Catching up to Phillip, Keegan strolled next to him with his head held high and a shite eating grin playing at his lips. This was probably the most elaborate prank he had been part of in his thirteen years, and he was very proud to have been considered. With George graduated and forced to be a grown up, Phillip had taken his place as Keegan's upper-classman role model. After trying to be on his best behavior for months in hopes to impress his newly discovered father, Keegan had despretely needed a break. With his fathers blessing in the form of a giftbag from the Weasley's, he had jumped at the chance to help Phillip tackle this massive prank. It had been an honor.

Sneaking his way next to Phillip, Keegan settled down on the bench and dug into a pile of pancakes, savoring every bite with the knowledge that soon he would need the energy. Growth spurts and all that. A few minutes and several cakes later, Keegan saw Phillip motion to his lady friend that it would be time, any second, for the change. Keegan slipped off his robes and unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons, worried that he would ruin one of his only shirts. The fact that he had a parent who would spend money on new school clothes instead of liquor was still new to him.

Picking up his pumpkin juice, Keegan took a sip and then stared at it, certain that it was starting to look a bit smaller.

"The milk, please," Landis said to Lucrezia di Luca, polite as could be. Breakfast was winding down; he was taking his last cup of tea over the newspaper which he read every morning. Di Luca wasn't one for small talk. Landis appreciated that. She certainly made for a better neighbor than other professors there.

It was the last day of classes, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself all summer. The idea of taking leisure was preposterous. Landis supposed he would pick up more work from Vedir. Last summer had been lovely, his attack on St. Mungo's... ah, but he couldn't repeat himself again. That would be boorish. There was a wedding to plan. It made him an entirely different sort of nervous than the St. Mungo's operation had, and in fact the wedding in terms of nervousness was worse...

There came the slightest tingle - like the feeling before one sneezed. Landis refocused on his newspaper, nose wrinkling. He felt odd, gave a little shiver. It was like his whole body had to sneeze. And then he noticed that with terrible smoothness his hands on the paper had begun to change: it was subtle, so subtle he wasn't sure it was happening until the nick on the back of his knuckles from an old Potion's incident was gone.

And that wasn't the end of it. He felt the minute shift of cloth over his chest as his shoulders narrowed and lost girth; his view of the room lowered by a few inches. Fortunately, this was not Landis' first surprise transformation. He had developed a certain resignation for it, a je ne sais quoi which made him sit still and wary through the changes in his body with the expression of one who was not paid nearly enough. After the odd moment passed he patted his chest, then picked up the silver pot from the tea service to examine himself in its reflection. His mien actually brightened at the sight. Thank Salazar's serpents, those were familiar features. He looked - what, 15, 16? As if he were a student again. Reverting to his gawky teenage self wasn't particularly a pleasure, but at least he was still himself. And male. Merlin, he felt relieved. Having to wear a bra would really put a damper on his morning.

Landis looked up, scouring the crowd of students in the Hall with sudden intent for any who looked too gleeful. But his attention was quickly snagged by his fellow staff at the high table, and especially the transformation beside him...

Wordlessly he placed the silver tea pot in front of Lucrezia. Its reflection was telling.

Without once raising her eyes from the potions journal she was studiously examining,  Lucrezia's fingers felt for the creamer until her hand could curl around the handle and pass it to Morgan.  Breakfast was an acceptable endeavor when sitting next to the librarian as, thankfully, he was not one for mindless chit-chat. Coffee - black -  and a croissant or some other pastry were the only things the Potions Professor usually had in the mornings. But with her first years exam today,  she suddenly felt she might need her strength.

She couldn't have chosen a worse day to indulge in some pudding. It was as soon as she took her last sip of coffee, that she realized something was terribly wrong. Later, she'd blame her inattention on her multitasking; no Potions Master would not  be able to notice when something was amiss with their food or drink. With thinly veiled horror she felt the world around her grow larger, but that was soon deemed improbable, so she could only conclude that she herself was growing smaller.

In fact, she was growing so small, that she could suddenly barely see past the edge of the table and her feet were nowhere near the ground. She had waited patiently for the transformation to finish, before she quickly secured her robe around her neck with one small hand, as it was in danger of falling around her shoulders. The situation appeared bad enough without exposing her underthings to the entire school. She had thought she had merely shrunk, but as she turned with a frown to where Librarian Morgan used to sit, she encountered a fair, bright-eyed  and barely pubescent boy that strangely reminded her of Morgan. A less chronically tired and strangely not displeased with the world at large Morgan. 

A silver pot of tea was soon placed in front of her, and Lucrezia had to strain her head to catch her reflection in it. She was met with the face of a very young girl, not even of Hogwarts age, she thought. And it took her a moment to realize that it was her own face. Or at least the one she wore when she must've been about seven or eight. Her expression let on nothing, perhaps a general displeasure and the usual bored sort of aura she exuded,  admittedly looking strange on her new face.

"Well... this is unexpected " she said with a small jolt of her eyebrows, finding her voice lacking its usual sharp  drawl and about two octaves higher. "Murder was not on my schedule today, but I suppose I could make a last minute change" she dead-panned,  softly cringing at her own voice again. Her eyes finally turned to Morgan and she gave a small, displeased shake of her head. "May I interest you in joining me,  Mr. Morgan?"  she asked,  small eyebrows coming to meet at the middle. She feared for the man's safety, if she was being perfectly honest. He looked horribly--angelic.

They were so very nearly rid of them, Ignan thought to himself as he ate breakfast in relative silence amongst his colleagues at the head table beside Minerva. He had little to worry about until he heard the giggling and glanced up and about him. Giggling was nothing new amongst students and they were quite keen to go home and have a summer away from the school, so he barely gave it a second glance - there was no peeves, no Deus declaring his love…

Then he happened to glanced down the table, and had to look again. There was what looked to be a student, sat where Landis usually, and beside him was a first year if so. He was about to protest when he realised that these were no students, but his colleagues, and he stopped eating immediately, dropping the toast in his hand to the plate beneath, which is when he noticed his hands. They weren't quite so lined, the skin looked like he'd had both of them in a bath of some sort of moisture potion.

He seized a table knife off the table which had a flat enough reflective surface to glimpse a first impression that his hair was most definitely not white but darker as it had been decades ago.[1]

What in Merlin's name was going on here? It was rather lovely not to be quite so old (if only Miranda were still here!) But it was rather disconcerting to know it had happened without his consent potentially via his breakfast.

The fact his colleagues looked like children only reinforced the fact that a good number of the staff were barely out of their teens before this de-aging process. Perhaps it would only be temporary, but if anything, he wouldn't mind being a little younger for a while!

"It must be something we've all eaten," he spoke at once as those at the table who were now sporting younger faces were quickly sniffing at food with suspicion.

"But the students - they're not getting younger?" One of his colleagues exclaimed, quite rightly so. All across the great hall students seemed to be sprouting more inches and the benches suddenly seemed to be full of far more people for breakfast.

"Keep your eyes out for people who seem unsurprised by this event!" Ignan instructed quickly, "However fortunate it might be for some of us, we're lucky it wasn't something life threatening." Despite himself he snuck another look of his reflection in the blade of the knife before raking the crowds below them with his eyes to try and spot potential sources.

1.	A younger Ignan!