Erik’s bag clacked and clattered as he sorted through jars, bags, and vials of ingredients he had found in various places and rooms in the dungeon, trying to sort through the ones he did and didn’t need. A notepad was supported under his arm with a list of ingredients that were needed for the potion, a few of which he had never seen before and wasn’t sure if they were even on the school grounds, so he just nabbed everything, threw it into his bag, and dug his hands into his bags and sifted through everything to figure out just what he was doing.

The old wooden door to the chamber slammed shut and Erik’s head whirred around. He hauled his bag over to the door and tried to open the door, but like all doors in the dungeons it wasn’t exactly a simple mechanism and the unlocking spell wasn't working--someone had pulled one over him.

“Hey!” The young Gryffindor finally yelled, only to be greeted by a loud raspberry and a clacking of a tongue.

“Rotten ickle Gryffie twin in the dungeons getting in some extra potions work?” Erik zipped his bag up closed and made a defiant face at the chaotic poltergeist. “Ehhhh,” the geist creeking voice rose and then dropped into a mocking tone, “doubt it!”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Erik said defensively, “Like sporting one of Fauna’s new hats…” he paused for a minute seeing Peeves somewhat interested eyebrow raise, “on… the suits of armor or something.” The young boy tried to keep up a snobbish look of mind-your-own-business but his quirky smile threatened his mask—even Erik had to admit it was a rather good prank.

Peeves clapped his hands together and rubbed them together ferociously, Erik thought they might light on fire, as his toothy grin cracked across his face and then the ghost zoomed through the door with his eerie cracking cackle. “Hey wait open the door!” Erik kicked the old door but it only boomed and shook at his kick and didn’t open. He was positive Peeves wasn’t coming back.

Erik grasped his notebook into his hand and then started to kick the door, “Let me out!” he yelled, hoping that someone would walk by and release him, although hopefully not someone who would skin him alive.

Fir was minding his own business, coming back from making some tweaks to his super awesome broom racetrack in the Room of Requirement. He had tested out the track on a broom the room had so graciously provided. Seriously, that thing was awesome and very handy for covert operations.

His happy whistle and spring in the step of his tall black boots was interrupted by Peeves cackling down the hallway.

"Peeves! My translucent man, What's up? How's it hanging?" Fir called, giving the poltergeist a happy wave. While he wouldn't go so far as to say he was friends with the ghost, the seventh year couldn't help but be like the obnoxious thing. A young Fir had even admired Peeves, following him around taking notes and volunteering to help on his quest for mischief. Fir could respect Peeves and a fellow prankster and causer of mayhem.

The ghost only stopped to blow a raspberry at Fir (Fir responded the gesture by blowing a kiss at the wall Peeves disappeared in).

The spiky haired teen couldn't help but be curious at what the ghost had been doing so he kept going down along the corridor, keeping his eyes open for whatever Peeves had done, and see if there was anyway to improve upon it. What? Even Peevses could use some constructive collaboration.

The muffled cries of 'Let me out' stopped Fir short. Fir tilted his head and smirked. Well, well, well. Looks like he had found the target. Now to be a good citizen and help whoever was trapped or milk it for all it was worth?

Oh yeah. Real tough decision.

"I don't thin poor Peeves can," Fir said in his best impression of the poltergeist. "Maybe get Professor Storm to unlock it....hmmm?"

Good job Fir. Threaten a trapped kid with images of the professor that probably inhabited more student nightmares than anyone else.

Erik snapped at whoever was on the other side of the door and imitating Peeves and summoned a bit of French he brought over from Canada, “Storm’s probably going to be dealing with a fashion chapeau faux pas” Erik said with his tongue sticking out in a rather bleh voice, in his laziest impersonation of the French accent, “on the other side of the school with the suits of armor—“ And then mumbled off, “And with how many weird hats Fauna has, that might be a while…”

Then he paused, wondering if the other person heard him, or might be a Hufflepuff, or friends with Fauna—did Fauna’s friends like her hats? He didn’t really know—he liked Fauna, he guessed, just not her hats. Anyway who was on the other side of the door? He couldn’t really tell if it was a boy or girl, “But uh—“ Erik sifted through the stolen goods he had, “I’ve got some Salamander Parts,” A good find, actually, he didn’t want to give those up—slamanders were pretty cool, “And tubeworms…” He said almost letting his curious and oozing voice slur over how magnificent the things were. The only thing he really knew they were used for were hair products though or something.

Erik wasn’t a mind reader, and wasn’t great with negotiations, especially THROUGH A DOOR, so he just kind of waited to hear what the person on the other side of the door did before mentioning what other random stuff he had in the bug, before he dug himself into a deeper hole.

Ho ho. What a mouth this young one had. A mouth and very little brain. Didn't they realize that given the current situation it would be best to go along and humor Fir? Well, it was always the best decision to humor Fir, but especially when Fir controlled a locked door.

"You know, I'm not sure I'd be mouthing off to someone capable of either leaving you here to really be freed by someone nasty, or free you out of the generosity of his heart," Fir pointed out, now using his own voice.

Salamander parts? Tube worms? Oooo, hair goop products. Hey, the guy was on a limited budget. Sometimes he had stir up his own supplies. And then test them on sleeping housemates. Like he was risking his own hair on a trail run? Puh-lease.

"Hmmm, sounds like a catch," Fir said lazily, as he leaned his back against the door. What? The kid wasn't going anywhere, obviously. "What or who are they for?"

Since the person on the other side of the door changed back to their normal voice. It was male, obviously, but kind of delicate, and then Erik came to the sudden realization of who it was and he smushed all his facial features together at the thought. Fir.

What was he suppose to do with Fir? The guy was a little strange for Erik, but if there was a possibility the Slytherin would open the door without some dirty trick waiting, maybe it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t hear that Fir was house-prejudiced or anything and he did kind-of sort-of offer to open the door, “Well,” Erik started apologetically, “since you’re thinking about it…”  And then he took an interest in his ingredients—well that was another inch forward for Erik—great. Progress.

“Um, I was going to use them for a project,” he started innocently, with the truth even! Half of it at least, “with my sister—she’s a hufflepuff. I was on my way over there but then realized I grabbed a few things we didn’t really need.” Another half-truth, the little Gryffindor smiled, that might be a record for him.

“They’re yours though, if you really want them,” he continued on nonchalantly. Too subtle? He wasn’t sure. He’d never actually tried to negotiate with someone as… as weird as Fir.

Project. Sister. Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever. Like Fir cared. He wasn't no prefect or Head Boy and was pretty sure the day he did would be the day Voldemort rose from his grave and gave a massive apology where he explained his actions were due to a really bad case of constipation.

What he choose to hear was what he wanted to hear, which in this case was actually spoken aloud and not just in Fir's magical word-filtering ears.

"Why how GENEROUS of you my friend!" Fir said happily. He promptly took his wand from his pocket and unlocked the door. It was pretty blatant bribery, but what did Fir care? He got what he wanted.

There in the door stood a little first year...what was his name again? Erik? Yeah that sounded about right.

"Why hello Erik!" Fir said happily as he leaned against the doorway. "So good to see you my friend. How have you been? Good? Great! You a friend of Mairead or Keegan? Fantastic those two, pretty good around a racetrack, too. You seen them in action yet? Yes? No? Anyway you should swing by. So now what was this project for?"

Transitions and logical thought process. Two things Fir severely lacked.

As the door swung open Erik tilted his head in the opposite direction Fir leaned, trying to understand some deep mysterious secret about his crazy hair and deny the presence of makeup on his face. Erik found it hard to believe, sometimes, that Fir wasn’t a girl.

“Hi…?” Erik unintentionally questioned, kind of curious at his sudden “friend” status with the older Slytherin. He dropped open his mouth to tell Fir how he was but immediately snapped it shut as the older one answered for him so he nodded. Mai and Keegan—continuous head bobbing. Fantastic—nod, then a rotation to a shake—wait—continue the nodding. In action? Yes—Erik shook his head. No—he nodded. Swing by? Sure. Nod. “Wait what?”

Erik furrowed his face in confusion. He didn’t know what Fir was referring to but the crazy-haired guy had another question to go through, except he didn’t throw forth another answer. Erik relaxed his face in surprise—“Uh…” theheck why did he have to care about something like that?

“Well we’re testing the effects of…” he rolled on the last word for a while until he could add a bit more too it, “different draughts,” he said with finality, “and their effects on…” he continued to roll on again fishing for a thought—oh fish, that’s right, “different kinds of fish.” Erik gave Fir one of his best proud and honest smiles, as he pulled out the ingredients he mentioned from his bag and held them up to Fir.

Did that sound good? It sounded good enough for Erik anyway, who wants to hear anything more about fish anyway?

Awww. Look at the adorable look of confusion on the little firsties face. Granted, it didn't take an eleven year old to be completely confused by Fir. It just helped. Sometimes.

Fir enjoyed watching people make the panic/confused faces and stutter out half-thought-out replies as he prattled away. Confusion to his enemies (and random people he barely knew) meant less enemies and more winning for Fir.

Finally Fir stopped talking allowed Erik to speak in full sentences. Wait..what. Now it was Fir's turn to look confused. He tilted his head and stared at the midget Gryffindor for a second.

"You were gonna waste perfectly good potion ingredients like that on fish experiments?" Fir asked. "For serious, child? Can't you find something more fun to experiment with? That involves people? Oh kid you got a lot to learn."

Erik’s jaw slacked and dropped open appalled. “Me? Needing to learn something fun?” Erik was the definition of fun and anyone who told him otherwise needed a serious reality check.

“How would you know what fun can be had with fish?” Erik jiggled the jar of tubeworms in the older Slytherin’s face, and then crossed his arms proudly, jars and all, as he wound out his argument, “There’s lots of things that can be done with a Forbidden Section book—maybe we’re making a sea-monster to fight the giant squid, or a monster shark, or a FLYING shark,” Erik said leaning up onto his tip toes, “or maybe we could flood the school halls with flying fish. It’s cooler than using it for hair goop.” He pointed again this time with the salamander jar stuff.

Erik then started to clack the jars together as he began to count off other ridiculous ideas that he had that were utterly and completely possible in the realm of all things Erik, not really paying much attention to Fir beyond his counting of brilliant ideas.

"Oh Erik. Erik. Erik. Erik. I don't repeat myself," Fir said, arching an eyebrow and tossing the boy a smirk, daring him to dispute that.

Fir ever-so-graciously allowed the boy to carry on with his counter argument, weak as it was. Well he was only a first year. Fir had to cut him a little slack here.

"Ooo, Forbidden Section book," Fir said, still smirking. "Now my devious young friend, as a seventh year do you really think I haven't thought of any and all of those ideas beforehand or smuggled books out of the restricted section? And don't mock hair goop. One day when you are older you will understand how important hair goop i- if not for you than for your girlfriend."

Kids these days.

"Now I would be more interested," Fir continued as began a cuticle examination. "If you told me me exactly what book you took out. That way I can tell you if you're using it properly."

Fir had probably looked at more books in the restricted section than anywhere else. Honestly slapping a 'forbidden' label on a tome was the best way to get Fir to read, period.

Oh Forbidden Section book? Did Erik let that one slip? “What Forbidden Section book?” he backtracked before he could twist his face into some dead giveaway he was lying. He wasn’t a very skilled liar yet. It mostly depended on how he was feeling, inspiration, and a bit of luck. He honestly didn’t remember saying that though, or actually saying he was in the custody of such a book, so he figured his cluelessness was warranted and refused to think any further about what he had just rambled on about to the older Slytherin.

“Wait, you’re a 7th year right?” he said in throes of distraction, “Don’ you guys get like, almost kind of sort of free reign over it?” He thought the 6th years and up pretty much got to wander in and out of the place, from what he heard, but maybe sourface Landis changed those rules. Funsucker.

Girlfriend? Erik’s mouth slowly dropped open, “WHAT?” he said wrapping an English accent around each vowel, “GIRLFRIEND?”  The younger boy then twisted his mouth into a disgusted expression and stuck out his tongue, as if he ate something awful. He was definitely not employing the magic of hair crud anytime soon to HIS hair. He’d sooner shave his head bald. Erik bet he could pull of it too.

The Gryffindor, still aghast at Fir, then pulled his tongue back into his mouth and retreated his expression into a suspicious pout, “What why?” and then quickly remembered that he was not technically currently in possession of anything, “…If I actually did have such a book?” Besides he didn’t take it, he just forgot to put it back… and kept forgetting to do so…

Fir continued his smirk. There were just too many opportunities to do so that it would be worth changing his facial expression. 

"Come now, you an I both know you said that there is lots to be done with a Forbidden Section book and that the surrounding conversation suggested you either had it, know someone who does or looked at it enough to get the idea of messing around with fishes. I'm not a prefect and I'm certainly not a tattle tale. In fact you insult me by suggesting it. Shame on you Erik Collins! For shame! Especially when I so graciously offered my services. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Now how much of what Fir said Erik said had all been in Fir's head was another issue altogether. Fir was known for having complete or partial conversations with another person than consisted entirely of him doing all the talking. Yet another way talking with Fir was a lot less...talking than one might imagine. It was hard often hard to get a word in edgewise.

"Well, yes,  as NEWT student I do have an academic need to go to the restricted section a whole lot more than a first year does, my fine Gryffindor friend," Fir said. "So spit it out. And spare me the fish stuff. There's gotta be something more fun than that cooking in your brain."

If there wasn't, Fir would just have to take it upon himself to correct such a travesty, as was his duty as a seventh year student to the young impressionable minds of Hogwarts.

Erik took the jars in his hands and clacked them together in front of his mouth—Fir was really weird. Buuuuut he was right. Not a prefect, and he never heard of Fir being a tattle tale… Actually most of what he heard about Fir had been from Sophie, and she loved him. Although being scolded by someone like Fir was very odd for Erik, so he just rubbed the jars together to make a rolling glassy scraping sound, “Okay…” he said letting Fir finish.

“So I have access to a book I might have forgotten to put back in the library that I happened to innocently wander into,” Erik said as he shifted the jars to sitting on top of his thighs, “And it doesn’t really have anything to do with fish…”

He then wrinkled his face for a moment after remembering the recipe, “Well, actually it does—but not really.” He looked at Fir warily again, “Mermaid songs and puffer-fish stuff, for the potion.”

“It makes people sing all day after eating it,” He moved the jars up to his face again clacking them together, soothing himself with the marble sound to quell his thoughts on whether or not Fir really would find it amusing or not, “Was thinking about maybe getting a teacher, like Storm to eat it, or our whole class…” he continued his clacking as he watched for Fir’s reaction.

And now we were getting to the heart of it all, boys and girls. And ti had only taken just a little bit of excessive pestering and controlling the conversation. But he, everyone won in the end right? Well, maybe Erik didn't feel that way now, but he would after Firs excellent tutelage. That whole you'll thank me later thing.

Mermaid songs and puffer fish, oh? Hmm, now that sounded interesting. "Go on," Fir prompted.

And here was the heart of it. Fir's face lit up in a delighted and impressed smile.

"Now we're talking," Fir said. He rubbed his hands together eagerly "But my dear Erik, while I respect your use of library resources, I would suggest two minor, tiny, little tweaks to such a plan to make it better. First, I'm in. Some of those potions can be tricky and temperamental and I happen to be a NEWT-level potions student. Second, I highly recommended expanding your vision, let's say...the entire school."

He continued to grin broadly at t younger boy.

"Now. Where would this book happen to be. Common room? Fantastic. I do LOOOOVE the  Gryffindor tower. And what all else did you need? And how exactly are you planning to get the mermaid song? They aren't exactly the most social of folks."

Fir’s smile, was comforting and a sense of pride bubbled up inside Erik that plastered a mischievous smile across his face. There was something satisfying in impressing a Slytherin, although,  Erik admitted he wasn’t sure if they were ever just thinking about things in their own way, and of course, Fir was.

A questionable falter twitched at his smile. Two tweaks?

First, I'm in.
“Wh-ha—“

Some of those potions can be tricky and temperamental and I happen to be a NEWT-level potions student.

“Okay good point,” Erik gave in, still curious about what else Fir had to offer, and then his head took a dip. An eyebrow rose up on his forehead. The entire school?

The smile uncontrollably peeled back across his face, “Brilliant,” he happily confessed, “but we’ll needs LOADS of everything. All I’ve managed so far are lovage and hellebore from other stude—potion stocks.” Erik quickly corrected the fact that he had not actually gotten the potions by very honest means, but hey, they were out where he could find them. Who leaves stuff around for a first year who snoops through anything and everything to get a hold of?

Then came the next hurdle. “How are we going to get EVERYONE to eat it though?” “drug them at lunch? How to do it without being seen though? Levitate it?” He scratched his chin with the lid of a jar, “or poof it like elves do?” The Gryffindor actually had no idea how to do any of those things but he assumed it was probable—at least in  his world it was, along with every other almost impossible possibility.

Erik shrugged his shoulders and smiled shamelessly at the whereabouts of the book, “Hufflepuff.” he dropped his shoulders, “Sister’s got it.”

And then the mermaid song, how would HE know? He’s been searching for that any chance he got, “Umm… I was hoping someone just had one or two of them lying around somewhere?” A grit of his teeth yanked his perpetual grin back for a moment, “There are moonstones , puffer fish, and flobberworms—only need one puffer fish though,” he gestured the jars around as if he was trying to wave something out of his stomach, “for the puff,” he finished with a go-figure tone, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to add to a potion that he’d never actually think any normal person would think up outside of his ridiculously amazing ideas.