OOC: Thread title inspired by the following article. The more you know, right? Also, this thread is open for anyone to crash after some of the 5th year boys have posted.

Blake Knight was hungry. Again.

It didn't matter that he had eaten his weight in every confection known to man on his trips to Hogsmeade that weekend. He figured that was a perk to being a member of a rich Wizarding family.  Of course, sweets were just empty food stuffs that hardly satiated his hunger throughout the days, especially when he was in full teenage Wizarding boy mode.

This was why upon the return from Hogsmeade, Blake had immediately planned to descend upon the kitchens. Missing dinner was no excuse for not visiting the house elves to say hello. Being friendly to them never hurt if it meant he could get more of the delicious foods he wanted.

Still wearing his casual clothes, which included a beanie to cover his disheveled dark hair, Blake sneakily stepped through the kitchen doorway, ducking slightly as he did so even though he was in no danger of not clearing the top. He had grown quite a bit since his early years at Hogwart's and most of it had occurred in the past year. Thus, he was still orienting himself to the places and spaces that he could fold or curl his larger frame into with varying degrees of ease.

He grinned at the first elf he saw who seemed to recognize him and within moments he was looking at a plate of leftovers. Blake didn't mind at all. His stomach happily shared in the delight. Blake was quite content until he thought he heard faint footsteps approaching the kitchens. His hand with fork paused mid-bite as his crystalline blue hued eyes flew to the door before flitting around the kitchen for a place to hide.

Curse his height!

Most places weren't meant for him anymore but he did his best to squeeze himself between a few shelves covered with food likely being prepped for the next morning's breakfast and waited to see if the approaching sounds would fade away.

Alistair and Fred had spend their Sunday procrastinating on their homework, like proper students. Making their way to the kitchen using hunger as an excuse was yet another way for Alistiar to postpone having to do any sort of real work.

"I think my mum was drunk-replying to letters again." He said to Fred as they made their way into the kitchen. "She told me that she hopes Connor Todd has" He put on an imperfect French accent, "reached some semblance of proper humanity and that she hopes my first girlfriend doesn't look like a mandrake." He rolled his eyes as he walked right past Blake's hiding spot, completely oblivious. "Classic maman. Yours is better. At least our dad is great. So we have that in common." He playfully elbowed Fred before turning around to rummage the shelves for--

He startled, heart feeling like it was about to jump out through his throat. Or earholes. Or eyeholes. Whatever, a hole. Alistiar promptly dropped the f-bomb several times in quick succession. Like a true Scotsman.

"BLAKE." He grabbed a loaf of bread and pelted the Ravenclaw with it before dissolving into laughter, "How'd you..." He looked from Fred, to Blake, and back again. "Why?!"

Fred awkwardly scratched at his arm as he walked with Alistair toward the kitchens.  Sure, the intention had been to do homework, but then stomach’s rumbled and it seemed like a much better alternative to writing a scroll.  So, Fred tagged along on Alistair’s adventure. 

And you know, if he got a snack out of it… he wouldn’t be upset.  (Maybe more than a snack, now that he thought about it).  Well, he didn’t have a long time to think about it, because Alistair was describing his mum’s owls and Fred’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.  Never mind imagining the sandwich he might make for himself out of chicken from dinner and some rolls… that was completely secondary to Alistair.  Fred choked on air or his own spit or something because ”Fizzing whizzbangs!”

He reached up to rub the back of his neck.  “Your dad,” he corrected before looking around.  “People really think that, Alistair.  You’ve got to stop spreading it around – what if people think I’m lying?” he picked at his skin, clearing his throat as it felt like his voice would crack, “I’m not a liar, Alistair!”  This was a big deal.  But, as in the past, he had never been listened to on this fact.  He was not going to stop trying though.  It might work, one day. 

So consumed with rebuking the myth of their shared fatherhood, Fred didn’t notice Blake in his hiding space and when Alistair jumped, Fred’s head immediately turned and he screamed.  Not words.  No, just a good, old-fashioned scream that could shatter glass if there had been any out.  He felt hot all over, clapping his hands over his face once he calmed down and realized it was just a fellow fifth year and not some kind of weird castle murderer or giant, malformed house elf. 

There were probably hives already forming on his neck and arms, but Fred just dropped his hands and panted, trying to catch his breath.  “What the hell, mate?!” 

Food, there was nothing else that Dan wanted more right now. Hell even girls and quidditch went to the back of his mind when he was this hungry. In fact he was so hungry his stomach had started aching. So naturally he had decided to go to the kitchens and eat as much as the house elves would give him.

He was walking down the corridor towards the kitchens rolling up the sleeves on his hoodie when he heard a scream coming from the door and quickened into a run. He burst into the kitchens expecting the worst only to see Fred, Alistair and Blake, standing there.

"Bloody oath lads, why the hell were you screaming?" Dan said chuckling at the trio. "You'll scare off the food"