The library. A place of peace and quiet. In theory. The truth was that most of the students didn't know how to shut their friggin' gobs. Friday at least was more or less quiet. Most student were off doing whatever the hell it was they did on weekends. Wasting time. Pretending that they didn't have crap to do over the weekend. It was also why she avoided the library on Sundays. Especially Sunday nights. Except when she felt like chucking things at people. No end of targets then.

But today was Friday. And that meant she had a table all to herself. Well, sort of. Cupcake, her four-inch fluffy and constantly disoriented owl that was the worst mail carrier in the world and wouldn't leave her side. Like now. When he was nibbling on the spine of one of the books stacked up on the table and looking at her with eyes that took up half his head. He was making little happy hoots which Bridget was happily ignoring, as she read her book, legs up on the table and boots tracking mud on the once-clean surface. They had house elves for a reason. Let 'em earn their keep.

She was deep in a book on wizarding law regarding the breeding and keeping of magical creatures. She should probably forward this to her Aunt. With a few key paragraphs highlighted. Or maybe not. If the hag got jailed, it meant Bridget could live happily guardian-less. She was almost 16, she was pretty sure she could leave home by that age legally. Another bit of homework. Too bad her already-16-year-old brother just adored Auntie the Hag. Well he was the 'rest' that Helga Hufflepuff said she'd take. How he had passed any OWLs was amazing.

Bridget dipped her quill in her inkwell and starred a particularly interested passage for later reference. Bookmarks and dog ears always got taken out for some reason. She was still scribbling on the book when she heard footsteps coming up from behind her.

"Shove off," she said shortly, not caring to look and see if the footsteps belonged to a student, professor or librarian.

In an attempt to put off her homework for a while Naomi changed into some black leggings, her boots from the previous night, and a long thick hooded green shirt, and tried to find some amusing company that Friday afternoon, but to no avail. An idea to check the lake kept poking at her, but she was positive that she wouldn’t find anything—or would get caught doing so in the day, and she wasn’t that stupid. So she decided to get a head start on her Ancient Runes homework and research something in the library.

Upon entering she saw the trail of mud stampeding through the library and followed it to Bridget Nilson, easily identified by her mile high blonde dreads. Naomi didn’t have anything against Bridget, deep deep down in the depths of her whatever that got dragged out of the muck of a swamp there was some semblance of a normal and strong individual person. And the wild hair girl liked that, just not everything else.

"Shove off,"

Naomi bilged her mouth into reproachful cut and hooked one gloved hand around her hip and another around her strap, “Couldn-uh roll off your sour goods in ‘di mud so you gone on to mutilate ‘dem books?” The Slytherin bat her eyes and churned her hazel gaze towards Cupcake, and lurked on with a morbid lilt, “Wit ‘dat  fuzzball sidekick?”

Happy she got that out she actually peered to see what on earth the ragamuffin Huffelpuff was doing to the book, “Wut trash you markin’ up anyway, imp?” Naomi plopped herself in a chair next to the girl, and called a book she wanted, not really caring that the ridiculous mash of a mess was spouting every insult that came to her. As long as she wasn’t sugar-coating everything like a pixie, she was one of the least-bothersome people in the school to the Foley girl.

Bridget turned her had when the intruder started talking. There weren't a whole lot of people running around with accents like the Foley girl's, which was probably the only reason Bridget even knew who the third year was. She could name and identify every entry from1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi but ask her name some of her own dormmates and she might be lucky to get half.

"I'm not mutilating them. They're books not babies," Bridget said. She turned back to her book just when Foley started asking about her feathered sidekick, who looked up at the girl and who'ed happily.

"He's not my sidekick he's a tag along. His name Cupcake. He's a moron. Feel free to borrow him for Beater practice."

And then the girl sat down at the table. Not leaving or taking Cupcake with her. Great. Just what she always wanted- unwanted company.

Wut trash you markin’ up anyway, imp?

"I don't know- what book did you arbitrarily magic off the shelf to give yourself an excuse to stick around like a lost puppy?" Bridget asked acidly, not looking up.

Naomi raised an eyebrow at the literal interpretation of what she had said. She really didn’t see the point in differentiating her vocabulary enough to treat a book and a baby differently unless, they were in fact, being treated differently—so she dropped that and ignored the comment about the owl.

“He’s prolly useless fi eet,” as she reached out to the book she called, and Naomi waved dismissively at the dustball for the thought of using it as beater practice. Whenever she had a whim to play Quidditch she just kept her father’s kamikaze falcon around to mess with—lot more challenging than a pile of fluff.

“Pfft,” Bridget’s sharp insult jabbed a  few flutters of dry laughter from Naomi, “YOU, Nilson, are di’ the last person any ‘lost puppy’ would stick to—nevermind me.” The Slytherin girl slipped out a handful of parchments of tight handwritten notes and a quill, and slid them up the book she had just grabbed, “I came fer a bewk—“ she opened the index of the book, scanning and comparing her notes to for key words, “or two, so ‘dat I wouldn’ be carryin’ ‘dem around all th’ week-end.”

“Didn’ see nuh reason to keep walkin’ to ‘nother table to jus’ look t’rough a book,” Naomi crossed her legs under the table, and leaned her head on her hand as she started to go through the book looking for the information she needed, and continued on in a bored and creeking tone, “unless yer gonna scribble over everyt’ing ‘dat flies off ‘dem shelves.”

"He is useless. That's why I offer him up at risk of breaking every bone in his body and rendering him flightless," Bridget said, eyes still on her book. She marked another section than looked particularly interesting and then made a note of it on a sheet of parchment. Cupcake, seemingly oblivious to the conversation except his name, cooed happily at Foley. Bridget didn't bother looking up to see what kind of face he was making. Probably a puppy imitation or whatever like she had called Foley and the other girl dismissed.

"So you say, and yet, here you are," Bridget said.

Unfortunately both the owl and the Slytherin seemed impervious the the rule that avoiding eye contact would make people go away.  By the sounds of it, both were staying. Greeeat. Well she wasn't going to get any work done today was she? A chatty third year and an obnoxious owl for study partners. All she needed now was a librarian Head of Slytherin (Snark must be desperate or the job must suck that bad or both) to peek his head around the corner.

A brief glanced showed Foley was now sitting down ad going through whatever book she had plucked off the shelf. Bridget could respect her reasoning- getting stuff done now at the start of the weekend. It's why she was here herself, but it wasn't like Bridget was really going to tell the other girl that.

"You walked all the way here, five more steps isn't going to kill you," Bridget shot back. "It's also none of your damn business what I do with the books I read, so freaking drop it already. If your accent goes with it, all the better."

Seriously sometimes it was damn hard to understand anything that came out of Foley's mouth. Since normally Bridget didn't actively engage people that was usually fine. When they tried to engage her, well then it was a case of 'dear god, ENUNCIATE already.'

"So you say, and yet, here you are," Bridget said.

“Yer head’s thicker ‘den a Tebo’s back,” Naomi lazily coiled on, still working on her notes, and ignoring Bridget the remainder of the time. All she was doing now was just making up reasons Naomi shouldn’t have sat down, and she felt completely justified in her decision and no fifth year badgering was going to make her move. She just felt like spiting her now.

"It's also none of your damn business what I do with the books I read, so freaking drop it already. If your accent goes with it, all the better."

Naomi pursed her lips and looked up from her books, not at anything in particular, just the shelves, before she picked up her wand and snapped a spell towards Nilson’s books. Anything open slammed shut and were quickly dealt, like a stack of cards, towards their respective shelves, with the bustle and shuffling of old pages and thudding covers.

“Maybe I should drop ‘dem on yer head,” she snarled, leaning the tip of her wand towards the Hufflepuff. Insulting her actions was one thing, but insulting her heritage, who she was, the way she talked—that was something to take up with her personally, and her accent rose harshly, “You gotta problem wit’ me sittin’ here talkin’ di way I want and sayin’ what I dam well please,” she dropped into a pungent growl, “den make me move.”

Bridget ignored Naomi's cheek on her intelligence level. There wasn't a point to it. Despite her bad attitude and frequent detentions, Bridget got excellent marks on essays and tests. She knew her stuff, she just didn't see the point in learning basic social skills at the same time.

Maybe if she kept ignoring her she'd go away. There was a first time for everything. But Bridget was never that lucky, as she quickly found out when all her books flew back to the shelfs. Cupcake gave a squawk as his book was upset and tumbled to the floor in an attempt to save himself from being squished. Hooting angrily, he flew over to Bridget's shoulder, burying his face in her hair.

Bridget slowly turned to face the Slytherin girl, her wand already out and pointed right back at the little trouble maker.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Bridget asked with false concern. "Wingardiam Leviosa."

She casted the spell on Foley's ink well, sending it hovering over the girl's notes and books. Another quick spell and the ink well shattered, sending the ink flying all over Foley and her belongings. Whoops. If Foley wanted to play magic games then Bridget would let her know who she was playing with.

"If your so hell bent on staying, then by all means, stay, though you might want to clean that up before Morgan sees you," Bridget said. "Just so long as you understand that I told you at the start I didn't want you here. Nothing personal."

Nope, not personal at all. She would have insulted anyone that approached her just as much. The accent was just an easy opportunity.  Bridget flicked her wand again, 'accio'ing' her books back to the table. She grabbed the book she had been reading and turned it back to the page she was on.

Naomi lazily stared at her papers, not impossible to clean up, and she could just study with Blake, no big deal, it wasn’t like her year wasn’t short of geniuses. It could easily be brushed off too, but Naomi had a sense of pride. Instead she curtly stood up and fired a spell back at Bridget, “Silencio,*” that was often used against her to stop her cursing at a younger age, and then she used a much more violent  version of Wingardium Leviosa in an attempt to scoop her up and send her and her chair flying down one of the rows of books and into a shelf.

The Slytherin didn’t play around, you thrown down the gauntlet or tossed it aside, nothing more nothing less, “Jus’ long as you know what n’ ugly mouth’ll get you, ragdoll,” She shrugged it off wand still pointed at the Hufflepuff, as she clarified, “nothin’ personal.”

Bridget barely had time to be grudgingly impressed that Foley could even attempt a fifth year level Charm before she was flung into the shelf. Snarling, Bridget regained her feet and leveled her wand at the third year. So this is how she wanted to play, huh? She really was a troublemaker. Having to have everything her way and up the stakes so she could get the last word in. Bridget demanded silence and solitude, she came along, chattering away and disrupting her studies. Bridget did the same and she got full out violence. Obviously she was dealing with a brat that just didn't like not getting her way. Fine.

"Spare me," Bridget said hoarsely as her voice came back from the spell. Foley had a way to go before she perfected it. "Petrificus Totalus!"

A quick Flagrate charm on the parchment Foley and been working on set them ablaze and then it was only a flick and swish to levitating them straight at the girl. The fire wouldn't do any serious damage because there wasn't much there to burn, but having a flaming whatever come at your face was never fun and Bridget just liked fire. She did know to avoid any serious burn damage on her fellow students. Not because she cared about the other kids, but because she had no desire to be expelled.

Naomi immediately and rolled under the table at Bridget’s counter, bolted off the floor and calmly and quickly flung another spell Bridget’s way, “Digilock.” Naomi considered herself rather restrained considering how brutal her and her older brothers always got and what she learned from them and the circumstances; they were in the library, where Morgan was, although she wasn’t sure how much he’d actually care about her and Bridget dueling since he was her head of house.

The Slytherin was bottling up enough temper and so when the flaming parchment came towards her face she reacted with a bit of voodoo, sending a large breath into her chests, up through her cheeks and then puffed a ball of flame at the parchment causing it to explode and fizzle into sparks and ash, and then fired another spell through it, “Sternumentum Malefico.”

---

*Digilock
*Sternumentum Malefico

Bridget scowled when Foley hid under a table. Coward. Ambitious coward, she thought as she used a shield charm to fend off the other attacks, but still a coward. Well the girl was a Slytherin. Bridget shouldn't be surprised she was trying to spells that were typically taught in years above Foley's. Had to be flashy, didn't we? Bridget, however, liked a direct and tried-and-true spell list. Something she knew she mastered and could use effectively. That was Bridget. Direct and to the point. Subtle as a brick to the head.

She used another wave of Wingardium Leviosa, this time at all the books she could handle at once, and then hurled them at Foley. Another quick flick and a Reducto exploded several of the tomes, and obliterating any academic use they would ever serve in the future.

Well there was bound to be copies and the librarian probably could fix them. Besides, given the literacy level Bridget'd seen at Hogwarts, that was about as useful as some of those books were ever going to get. It was kind of pathetic. She was a backwoods borderline hobo being raised by a hag and she still had a higher reading level and essay skills than a lot of her schoolmates. Pathetic. Like Foley's attempt to pick a fight. Seriously the girl needed a good punch to the nose.

Naomi sighed, throwing books? Kid stuff. Naomi started to toss the immobilization spell at the books, until she saw Bridget cast Reducto on them and then quickly used Wingardium Leviosa to shoot them up and away, causing which just caused the resulting debris to fire towards the ceiling and float to a sudden stop. Adding the explosive touch to the books wasn't bad, but the fact that the girl decided to blow up a bunch of books was. They really weren't that great for spontaneous combustion--It was like blowing up a pillow, by Naomi's standards.

The wind from the explosions sent a gentle breeze through the room that brushed at Naomi’s bangs and loose locks, and any loose clothing hems, but the younger witch’s hazel gaze stayed firm and focused on Bridget, waiting for an opening. Once the Slytherin caught a long enough pause between spells she gestured the tip of her aim towards Bridget’s feet with a proper Trip jinx and then topping that off with another violent Levitating charm on the lace of her shoes, tightening at them with a firm and brief jerk of her wand in an attempt to fling her across the room by her ankle.

The stacking of spells had taken Naomi a moment longer than she expected, so she could cast them with the proper force, but she barely finished the jinx before she caught site of another Reducto spell about to go off. Naomi wasn’t a fan of shield spells, she preferred the dodge and counter technique, and if she used one its use was best for countering, but there were only so many things that could stop the resulting force of a physical AND magical attack—so she shaded herself with a barrier spell. Of course, in haste, it had limited effects.

It managed to take the brunt of most of the explosion before falling apart against the last shockwave, and Naomi skidded back into a bookcase hitting her head and causing a book to drop at her feet in a dusty thud. Naomi shook it off and focused on Bridget again, after a beat the floating projectiles in the air plummeted to the nearest surface gravity flopped them on.

The Slytherin regarded the books, and her lack of discipline of holding the spells, with disdain and just directed that negative scorn towards the Hufflepuff. She steadied herself with a deep breath and prepared herself for whatever else the Badger had up her sleeve.

It had started with the distant slamming of books.

At the front of the library, leaning against the check-in desk and marking down the registry for new books, Landis' quill paused. But he quickly dismissed it as nothing worth troubling himself over and went back to checking order boxes with a sharp and unrelenting flourish. Students often got a little noisier than necessary in the library, forgot themselves and caused a ruckus, but they usually remembered his presence soon enough and settled down. Another book slammed shut - a dark quick slash of ink, and onto the next category. A faint sympathy rustling from the books nearby, borne on a wave from somewhere deeper in the library - and the newest set of Potions periodicals were arranged for Juliette, who'd wanted something more challenging for her older years. A distant crash, and his head raised again. A faint furrow appeared on his brow, thin lips twisting in confusion. His blonde head turned - an explosion rocked the quiet of the library - and Landis' quill snapped in his hand.

He took off at a sprint, and got there just in time to see the gentle rain of debris and ash descending on the study area, all that was left of several books and a few bookshelves.

"Expelliarmus! Accio wands!" There was a flash of scarlet light as the spells took, and both girls were thrown backwards as their wands whipped out of their hands to fly into Landis' left. In his right he held his own wand, and looked nearly furious enough to use it for things other than strictly school-sanctioned spells. In the wake of the explosion ash still drifted about; it clung to the girls' clothes, settled into the carpet, and coated Landis' pale hair and black robes with gray.

Landis considered for a moment turning them both to flobberworms, or inside out, or possibly exploding them limb by limb so that they could see how it felt, but medical magic was so advanced these days they'd hardly be in pieces long enough to absorb the lesson. Besides, he'd be fired, and as devoted as he was to the WBA it didn't exactly pay the bills.

In the end he decided to be a professional and just make their lives hell for a small slice of the day. Well, at least one of their lives; the dark girl was a Slytherin, and he was practically required to ply favoritism in her case. Unless she'd been the one exploding the books, in which case, he knew where she slept and had all the passwords.

"Foley." His voice was like a whip. "What happened?"

Bridget was on her back disarmed so fast she thought Foley had morphed into Voldemort. Groaning slightly, Bridget propped herself on her elbows and saw the source was the librarian. Oh goody.  Just what she needed to make this day better. The head of Slytherin house was staring at the two girls with nothing short of fury as the debris of ruined books and shelves flitted around, settling on Bridget's clothes and hair.

A tiny pathetic hoot got Bridget to turn her head as Cupcake peeked out from his hiding spot, waddled across the floor to Bridget, hopped up onto her shoulder and promptly hid himself in her hair.

Ignoring completely that the librarian had directed his question to Foley, Bridget spoke up in her typical dry tone. "I was sitting doing homework and Foley here came up and starting pestering me. I told her to shut up, she hexed me, I defended myself."

Simple matter. Except it wouldn't be that simple. Bridget was likely about to be slapped with detention and massive point loss if she was lucky. Foley would probably get a light tap on the wrist. It was just how the Slytherins worked.

She might look a little more convincing if she wasn't still on her back, propped up by her elbows on the floor, but she figured she was going to get it anyway (and she never really could pull of the presentable debater thing well) so what was the point?

Naomi rolled her eyes back at Bridget as she batted away at the dust settling on her, “You, Nilson, are di’ only living t’ing ‘dat would qualify walking as pesterin’.”  Naomi really didn’t care about getting into trouble, she hadn’t done much wrong, by her standards, and didn’t really care what the result of this would be. The fact that it was Morgan who caught them, didn’t really make her feel any better, she didn’t know the guy, but she wasn’t going to assume the guy was an idiot and in terms of discipline. Naomi just relied on the fact she always thought ahead in terms of picking fights—well far enough ahead anyway.

“Fer starters, I didn’ touch you wit’ anyt’ing—I put yer books away,” Naomi snapped a glare in Bridget’s direction, raising her voice for the librarian’s benefit, “you were just markin’ ‘dem up and scribblin’ away at yer fancy,” she raised her eyebrows and lazily dropped her lids to look at the ash settling on the ground, before shrugging a pursed and uncaring gaze at the other, “no big loss,” she then rolled her head over to Morgan.

“It weren’t me who started breakin’ someone’s t’ings, settin’ their work on fire, or blowin’ stuff up,” she popped dryly with a leisurely glance in Bridget’s direction.

“Blowin’ everyt’ing up ain’t much a defense, last I checked,” Naomi commented sickly, and then lowered her voice to a growl, “A least evert’ing I fired off was at chyou.”