Outfit | Bundle of Photographs

Kitty had let the whole confrontation with Waker die down since their confrontation in the courtyard. Yes, the Slytherin had been keen to take advantage of that whole fiasco involving Strellie's cousin, and yes, Waker, the Head Girl, the paragon of Hogwartian perfection, had slipped up. Everybody made mistakes. As the minute Korean witch trotted along the corridors of the highest hall in the school, she let out a hum of speculation, pondering her own actions: maybe it was time to call it a day. Maybe it was time to let this one slide. Maybe Kitty could keep this one quiet, Waker was a good girl after all. Flicking the corner of the fuchsia folder under her arm, Kitty grinned.

Maybe not. This one was just too good.

She gained a spring in her step, brushing a spare hand against the stairway railing. Those who bumped shoulders with the Slytherin princess knew exactly when she was plotting: the girl had a particular glint in her eye, lips trying to remain stoic but curling up at the corners in pure excitement. It was so difficult to contain such a feeling. The thought of pure destruction, unregulated carnage - it was simply delicious.

Kitty halted at the edge of the staircase, leaning over and seeing the seven floors unravel before her very eyes. It was lunch time, two minutes before all students rushed out of their respective classrooms to gobble upon whatever feast the House Elves of Hogwarts had prepared. There was no bigger footfall: prime time gridlocked human traffic. She opened the folder, sighing with utter contentment as she scanned the heap of magically enchanted photographs: Waker, looking beautiful, pure, almost angelic. Large almond-shaped eyes blinked innocently, a faint smile painted on her lips - and scrawled over every single image was a bloody red slogan, transforming itself every minute or so. The vicious slogans included, but were certainly not limited to phrases such as "Bed-Shaker Nolan", "Ravenclaw Bike", "Man-Eater", "Essex Sket" and every other profanity one could think of.

She'd regret ever rejecting Kitty's advances on the position of Head Girl. She'd regret every single moment she'd spent with the Ukrainian down at the Three Broomsticks: she'd regret ever stepping foot in Hogwarts. "Oops," Kitty murmured quietly, pushing the folder over the edge of the railing and watching hundreds of Waker-ruining portraits fall lightly into the almost bottomless pit of revolving staircases. They floated delicately, like doves of doom, fluttering, flicking and flying. Kitty giggled. It was like every inch of stone was covered - everybody would know.

Kitty took a few steps back, standing in the doorway of a nearby classroom, ready to spring forth as if she was just another innocent passer-by that happened to stumble upon the enchanted profanities. The first door opened a few floors down and the Slytherin clapped her hands together lightly.

It was officially lunch time.

Eirene was minding her own business, walking down the stairs from the Ravenclaw Tower, and wondering what they would be served for lunch today. She stayed on her side of the staircase like she was supposed to, one hand on the rail, and scolding the students who ran past her or jostled her on their race to the Great Hall.

Suddenly, photos descended from above!

One fell right on Eirene's shoulder. Bristling at the disruption, but excited to see what it was, she flipped it over.

Red ink marred Waker Nolan's face! The word 'sket' was written across it, and though Eirene wasn't entirely sure what that meant, she knew proper people didn't use it.

Letting out a loud gasp, she waved the photo in the air, "This has a bad word on it!"

She glanced around at the other photos in students' hands- all the same, all blotted with troubling names and news. Eirene shook her head, getting upset. Someone was picking on Waker just like someone had picked on Sasha! It wasn't fair! Everyone was jealous of the Ravenclaw prefects!

"I'm telling!" She announced loudly to anyone who cared. "It's against the rules to slander the Head Girl! Also, littering is against the rules!"

Eirene continued walking down the stairs again, then paused, both wanting people to pay attention to her and to find out who had done it. "Also, loitering on the stairs! Not allowed!"

Edmund emerged from another revision session before the last exams he'd ever take in Hogwarts; textbooks and parchments were tucked underneath one arm. Lunch time was his one retreat from academic dedication - a time when he could hang with Thatcher and Leon and pretend he'd been flirting with new girls all day when really, Lou was still the object of his affections. Imagine the Ravenclaw's surprise however, when attention was immediately distracted from the usual struggles of a Hogwarts seventh year in love and on the brink of graduation.

He ground to a halt, stooping down to pick up one of maybe a thousand photos from the stairway floor: photos of a friend. A best friend. Waker, looking her typical, demure self blinked and gazed at Edmund, yet enchanted red ink danced across her image, tarnishing it with a sense of ugliness that made him feel physically sick. "Waker Nolan - dirtier than a pile of troll poo?" he murmured allowed, mouth opening slightly in shock. All around, students of every year followed suit, taking their own souvenir from such a dastardly display. Some gasped, some giggled, some agreed and some shrieked - yet the noises were completely drowned out by Edmund's own disbelief.

"Give me that, now," he snarled quietly to a nearby Hufflepuff, snatching a wad of photos and hurrying down the stairs. Along the way, Edmund grabbed more and more piles that had fallen onto the railing - but it was no use. His line of defence was merely in vain. It'd take hours upon hours to clear every single image, even with magic, and even then, one couldn't guarantee they were all destroyed.

All he could think about was Waker. Sure, they'd had their ups-and-downs, but she was still a dear friend, and Edmund felt the need to protect her. Nobody deserved this sort of treatment, and the furious Ravenclaw was ready to hex whoever was responsible into the middle of the next month. Bumping into crowds of fellow Hogwartians that were feasting upon such a social travesty, he raced to Waker's classroom.

Vulpes had just left Muggle Studies and was happily waltzing with himself down the hallways to the Great Hall. He wasn't quite sure if class was over, the music had just sort of taken over and he began dancing out the door. Of course, as was the normal routine, his eyes were closed. So even though he managed to make it to the main staircase down to the Entrance Hall, he didn't realize that he was actually at the steps yet.

So, it wasn't a surprise when he missed the step, and rolled all the way down the stairs.

It actually was quite painful, though Vulpes laughed when he found himself on the floor. Plenty of people who had witnessed his blunder were laughing at him. His headphones had flown from his head and were laying a few feet from him. Quickly, he rolled to his feet and skipped idly to where they lay, calmly ignoring the jeers and laughter.

But as Vulpes bent down to pick up his headphones, a picture fell on top of them. He read the words written on it. Frowning, he snatched the picture up off the floor and read it again in disbelief.

"Ravenclaw Bike," was written in red across what was otherwise a lovely picture of the Head Girl. Vulpes struggled to remember her name... Walker Nolran, or some such? His eyes grew dark as he saw another picture floating through the air next to him. With a swipe he grabbed it. This one simply read "SLUT," a few times.

Without thinking, Vulpes drew his wand. He tossed the pictures back into the air, and aimed at them. "Incendio!" he spat, and the photos he had just released burst into flames. A slight shock crossed Vulpes's mind as he noticed how angry he was. But he didn't care. While he didn't know the Head Girl, no one deserved such treatment. And so what if she did sleep with someone? She was an adult, legally. She could do whatever she wanted

He pointed his wand at a few more pictures, setting them ablaze. The rage subsiding, he slowly turned and headed in for lunch.

Demitria emerged from the dungeons with a small smile on her face. It was a good day. Not marvelous, not phenomenal, just good. Considering her past few months, though, good was good enough for her. The tiny blonde had stopped in the Slytherin Dorms for a few moments before lunch to see if Kitty was there. She needed the other girl’s style advice. She had been trying to figure out what shoes she needed to order to go with her Bridesmade dress that she’d be wearing in a little over a week. The other Slytherin was nowhere to be found. So, Strellie grabbed some piano music and headed for the Great Hall.

It was going to be a quick stop, not quite a full meal. She was hoping to make a quick stop at the Room of Requirement during the latter half of lunch and the study break she had. Even though OWLS were coming up, her piano took precedent. Her ‘Mat wanted her to play at the wedding.

Mimi entered the sea of students to find something she did not expect. Waker Nolan’s child like face spread all over the ground. Each picture had some sort of slander on it. Demitria’s eyes narrowed and she sighed. There was only one other person in the school that knew about some of the things written on the pictures.

Kitty.

The culprit had told Demitria months prior about the Head Girl’s tryst with the Russian’s cousin. It hadn’t bothered the tiny Slytherin much. After all, it was just one more slip of information to add to the multitude of files locked away in her brain. Obviously, her Korean partner in crime, the far more vicious of the two, hadn’t felt the same way.

The Russian looked up the spiraling stairs to see where the pictures had come from. Sure enough, she knew she saw Kitty’s perfectly painted face gleaming at the top. With a low growl, the small girl began hurrying up the stairs, scattering other students as she went. On the way up, she passed a little first year Ravenclaw screeching about breaking the rules. Oh Merlin. This wasn’t about rules. This was about Kitty’s fascinating capacity for destruction.

She reached the top, breathing only slightly harder, and found her friend. “Kitty Li! What are you doing?” Strellie shook her head. “Have you gone mad? You could be suspended.” The other Slytherin hissed quietly. If she was going to backstab, she would hardly do it so publicly.   

Kitty tittered as Strellie approached, preparing herself for some sort of reprimand. Her Russian associate was usually the voice of reason, the angel upon the left shoulder to Kitty's Beelzebub on the right; but there was no way Kitty was sorry. She warned Waker what would happen; and an empty threat was useless. If one wanted to be a true conqueror, then no stone was left unturned and no promise was left unfulfilled. Walking alongside students that had exited the seventh floor classroom, Kitty faked a surprised expression, holding onto Strellie's arm and giving a forced laugh. "Oh, Strelnikov, look at this mess!" Her years of lying and deceit had resulted in the Slytherin being quite the little actress, and the surrounding students didn't seem to point the finger at Kitty.

The light grip on Strellie's arm immediately tightened however, and Kitty took her to the side, voice hushed but ferociously biting. "Keep your voice down," she spat, leaning against a nearby doorway nonchalantly. "Nobody knows it was me, they have no proof. I've been planning this for months, Mimi - don't you think I've thought about covering my tracks?" Kitty shook her head at her friends disbelievingly - did her best friend really believe that this was a whimsical outbreak of everyday bitchery?

She was still keen to keep her voice quiet, simply grinning at the destruction that ensued from the torrent of students taking their own portrait. "Waker refused an offer of mine: I was willing to compromise. She suffered the consequences, simple as that. The Head Girl deserves everything she gets, Strellie, acting like she's some example for us all to follow when really, she's been banging your cousin behind Carter's back. It's outrageous." Kitty put a hand on her hip, taking a few steps down the staircase, turning to give Mimi a smile before she exited down a nearby corridor. "And I love it!"

As quickly as Kitty had publicly humiliated Waker Nolan in a matter of mere minutes, she was gone.

outfit

Waker slipped a sheet of notes seamlessly back into its transparent leaf in one of the obsessively-kept folders in her bag, and rolled an essay up, sealing it with a snap of muggle rubber bands. She'd been the last to linger in the classroom, to ask a professor for clarification on lecture notes and have the poor, patient man put her worries to ease by asking that he read her essay yet again.

She nodded politely, thanking him before heading for the door. In the threshold, she spied a friend, wiggled her fingers and smiled. As she reached for her wand, however, she froze; even in the post-class rush, Edmund was easily spied, rushing toward her with purpose. She nearly did a double take, or might have, if she had looked away. Her brown eyes went a touch wider, her eyebrows lifting above them, puzzlement concealed carefully in a broad brow.

"Edmund...?" She took a step further from the classroom, letting the door shut softly behind her. The doorknob was smooth and cool to her palm, the last bit of something to which she could cling. She'd barely found her wand, barely let the name pass across her lips before she caught sight of one of them.

One of countless. Waker was all for a scientific approach-- proper research-- but her panicked estimate put the number of red-marked photos at a million. The obscenities rained upon them, fluttered prettily like leaves in the autumn, and were splashed through like epic puddles. People carried them, others pointed at the floor, clearly too scandalized or excited or disbelieving to actually touch one, lest they come down the same horrible diseases Waker had unknowingly contracted: social catastrophe.

The other disease, the one she felt in her heart, seemed to grab hold of her throat. Hot and sour, it threatened to ruin the ancient floors. She faltered, her fingers reaching blindly for the doorknob again, but she'd stepped too far into the sea. Her skin flushed, her brows knitted in confused pain, and her mouth dropped into a frown that was much more unsettling than her natural face. She looked uglier than the photo, not much like herself, and all too aware of what it meant.

Her first thought was George. For one wild moment, she wondered if he'd done this. She knew the fate of his other exes-- and presumably none of them had done what she'd done. But a box of mementos to a corridor full of nasty posters was a huge leap, and much as she had hurt George, she knew he was too good a person to do anything so low. Not to mention cowardice. And...

Sick-inducing in its truth.

"I'm going to be ill," she announced, shaking and weaving toward Edmund, grabbing hold of his forearm apologetically. She asked with silent eyes that he lead her toward a washroom. And then, more weakly still, she fished one of the posters from the sky with tepid fingers, too unstable to use her wand. The last of them were reaching the ground now, and the world was like a slow-motion snow-globe, the laughter and whispers operating on a different plane, one which resonated in her chest and pained her eardrums.

Thinking on George again, she wondered if he'd seen. Was he sauntering about the chaos right now? Was he humiliated, too? As far she knew, only a handful of people were aware of what had really happened between them. Now the whole school would be privy to their secrets. And if the breakup weren't evidence enough, it didn't really matter. Gossip was gospel to teenagers, a food source for the soul.

They past a first year, one of the ones Waker would bet galleons on as a contender future Head Girl. In seven years time-- not, six-- the child could be in her shoes. Surely she would not make such a terrible mistake, meet such a disgraced end. Waker looked away, staring at the floor. A part of her deserved it, she knew, but nothing in the world had gone according to how she'd pictured a year ago.

When they finally escaped the bustle of eyes and ears and mouths, Waker relieved her tumultuous, treacherous tummy, and spent a solid two minutes trying to drown in the cool stream of water pouring from the faucet as she cleaned her face. She avoided looking into the mirror. She slid along a wall and smoothed the thing in her lap, her face and the garish red. She blinked up at herself... and the one looking down frowned solemnly. Essex Sket.

She knew.

George had blown off his study break with a quick run up the stairs to his dorm. With only one class, and that in the earlier part of his morning, he’d decided to forget about the mountain of homework he had to do and take a nap. Especially with the party that had raged in the Gryffindor common room the night before.

Lunch, however, was a good reason to drag himself back up from bed, his hair somewhat a mess and his Hogwarts shirt wrinkled. Stumbling down the stairs to the common room gave him time to straighten his tie and smooth out his robe. Yawning into the back of his hand, George made it out into the hallway—which turned out to be a lot crazier than usual.

Blinking in surprise, frowning in suspicion, he stepped into the gawking crowd holding on to posters. It was the bright red words that caught his attention. Something seen out of the corner of his eye… Rubbing at them, George stepped over towards the railing. It was when he saw the photo that he snatched the poster from some suddenly irritated second year. The ‘Hey!’ was waved off with a glare from George.

Staring at the familiar face, he couldn’t decide what he was feeling. Part of him (a very small part) felt as if she deserved it—and another part was rebelling and yelling at him for thinking such things. He still cared for her, no matter how much he wished he didn’t. George frowned as he watched the letters change. Someone sneered at him—not the thing to do at that point in time. Grabbing the younger boy by the scruff of his shirt, George slammed him against the wall. “What was that?” After the stuttering finally came out, George shoved him along. “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll break your wand in two.”

Glancing around, he went back into the Gryffindor common room. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Raine Almasy left her Muggle Studies class with a lacklustre mood and a reasonably voracious appetite; she had gone jogging earlier in the day. Breakfast had not been satisfying. Still, she patiently strolled out of the classroom behind a rhythmic Vulpes Connor- watching him dance to the main stairwell was a mesmerizing experience, even if only in wonder of his externally oblivious condition. He had it down to clockwork.

"Look where you're going!" The Gryffindor called out too late towards Connor as he went rolling down the stairwell, landing with a thud. Probably didn't even hear her with those headphones on, foolish Slytherin. She rushed to the banister and gripped it, frowning reproachfully down at the sight of her classmate laughing at himself. Others joined in on the jeering laughter and Raine shook her head, unable to comprehend the ability to make light of one's own ineptness. Sanya was good at that.

Retreating from the banister, she heard a murmur spilling over from the upper floors and glanced up curiously. A photograph nearly landed flat on her face. Raine quickly seized it and stepped back, watching a fluttering dance of images float dreamily towards the ground floor- students were grabbing at some of the pictures and the murmurs were closer now. She looked down at the photograph in her hand and recognized the subject, of course: Nolan. Seniors at Hogwarts were easily identified, poor souls. The slander - if that's what it was - made Raine wrinkle her nose in disgust. You would think that there were better ways than this to get back at an enemy.  A passerby student could be heard in the background, making sounds of disagreeable shock: "What the hell is this?"

Raine's mind echoed the same sentiment. She unconsciously pocketed the picture and placidly told herself: None of my business, that's what this is.

The witch sighed discontentedly and cut through the emerging crowds of scandalized students, determined to grab a bite at the Great Hall before her Charms lesson next period. She descended the stairwell through the scent of charred paper and reluctantly pondered the fuss this stupid incident was going to cause.

After lunch on Wednesdays there were no other classes, which meant Heliotrope would often go for a swim in the afternoon before dealing with homework in the evenings. She was on the stairs, having come from an alcove on the fourth floor where she liked to curl up in a open window to gaze out over the grounds.

The staircases liked to change. Heliotrope, instead of going down, found herself going back up. Before she could figure out what floor she was on, black and white and red things fell down from above, falling like Eli Park's multicolored leaves. Some pictures with red words fell at her feet. She picked them up. Each had different words. The falling pictures were never-ending as the snow. She collected more. Then an older Ravenclaw boy barged into her.

"Give me that, now," snarled Edmund Klint quietly, snatching the wad of photos and hurrying down the stairs. Heliotrope stared after him. "Incendio!" someone spat, and now some of the pictures that fell were burning into embers. Fire. Fire was dangerous. Fire took down forests and destroyed the Hospital Wing last fall. You could put out fire with water.

Even before she had been told of the advanced spell to conjure water, Heliotrope figured that a wand could bring forth water. She spent so much time in it. The merpeople sung of ways to play tricks with water. It was her element.

Pointing her wand, she cast the spell to bring water. The burning pictures at her feet were extinguished by a stream of water that came from her wand. And did the water pour. More and more water came from her wand as she splayed it about looking for more burning objects. The stairs under this mass of water were flowing like waterfalls, landings churning like rapids. Pictures were swept up in the current downwards, fueled by the torrent of water from Heliotrope's wand.

Eirene's eyes bugged out of her head when no one listened to her, and someone even started casting fire spells. This was awful! Mairead must be somewhere about!

And then water rushed down from the staircase above! This was just like that frog incident in the library!

"Eeeeeeeeek! My shoes!" Eirene clung to the railing, panicking as the water rushed down the stairs and reached her ankles. She held on so tight that it didn't occur to her at that moment to reach for her wand and attempt remedying the problem.

"Witch-made lakes are not allowed!" She whined as loud as she could. "Someone stop it!"

Shouts, cries of disbelief, and the smell of smoke. Around Hogwarts, that was never a good sign. Especially when you didn't hear laughter at the expense of someone else mixed in with it.

Tapendra, who'd been heading to lunch (well, breakfast, really), had diverted towards the noise. The whispers of the crowd were not good - the murmurs of 'slut' weren't unusual, exactly, but everyone saying it was not a good sign, either. Especially when combined with the fire and shouts up ahead.

The crowd stopped moving and grew thicker as he headed up the stairs, having to force his way through the milling students. This became less of an issue as water swept down the stairs, though. The water was running fast, and was making the shouting worse. He ran up the stairs in the gaps in the crowd - students having stepped aside to grip the railings. He reached the upper landing by carefully taking the stairs two at a time.

Antonopoulos was squealing - what a surprise. Almost without thinking, he picked her up by the waist, hoisting her out of the torrent. "Calm down, Antonopolous," he said strictly. Raising his wand, he tried to think of a banging spell, but couldn't think of one that wouldn't cause damage. Carrying Eirene with him up the stairs to the upper hallway, he shot up red sparks instead.

"Be quiet!" he bellowed, blinking in surprise at how loud his voice was in the closed area of the hallway. He waited a moment to finish. "LeJean, stop that this instant or you'll wind up in detention with whoever caused this," he added darkly, picking up one of the papers, floating in the torrent.

Miss Nolan's (damp) face smiled up at him, but what he was looking at was the red words smeared over her image - 'Bed-Shaker Nolan'. His lips pressed into a line so fine they could have been used as a level.

"Who did this? Come on, speak up. What happened?"

In the general chaos along the stairwell, Heliotrope skittered back and forth, wand gushing water at her side. She did not realize how disruptive her actions were, almost worse then the rain of graffitied pictures.

"Be quiet!" roared Professor Trishna, high up on a balcony. Heliotrope froze with the rest of them, the stream of water now pouring onto the head of a student the next landing down. "LeJean, stop that this instant or you'll wind up in detention with whoever caused this."

Stop. She looked down at her wand, the flow of water still steady, as if she suddenly realized that she was the one creating a waterfall indoors. How was she supposed to stop? She flicked her wand but all that did was spray water one some paintings. The one portrait that hadn't fled for safety was Teeb Whittlestick, a woefully pathetic bard in striped pantaloons, playing his untuned lyre under an enchanted tree that blossomed both apples, pears, and kumquats.

"OoOoOohh..my bonnie maid, 'twas lost at sea--glorb! glarble!"

Heliotrope tried to cap the flow of water with her free hand. That only caused it to spray her in the face but the flow subsided somewhat. She tried to drop the wand, then found that she could not move her fingers gripping the wand, as if they were frozen. What would she do if she couldn't stop the water? She was beginning to feel a little weak.

The Giant Squid wouldn't mind the extra water.

Heliotrope spiraled down the stairs, bare feet slipping and slapping on the flooded steps as she headed for the exit. Awkwardly, true, but she had yet to fall over.

Raine had barely made it half-way across the corridor when the flooding started and a minuscule army of intrigued students began to block her way towards the Hall. Water was filling up fast, people were either panicking or yelling out somebody's name: LeJean, she thought they said, and turned around to see a ring of students backing away from a tiny first year student with water gushing from the tip of her wand. "Merlin," Raine said out loud and then made a loud exclamation of surprise as the ankle-deep water soaked into her polished black shoes. She bent down swiftly and took them off while the commotion went on. Better barefoot than ruined footwear- they were her favourite pair, too.

When the Gryffindor straightened out (praying that nobody would tread on her in the meantime), a loud voice broke through the general chaos and silenced a majority of its rousers, "Be Quiet!" Professor Trishna yelled in a tone that made Raine wince noticeably; that was not something she expected from their Astronomy professor. He said something else but she didn't catch it, standing as far as she was from the upper hallway. The next sentence was distinct, however.

"Who did this? Come on, speak up. What happened?"

Confusion ran through several members of the crowd at first- several students had to move aside as the first year from before came cutting through with a less volatile stream of water trailing from her wand. A few glances were exchanged and Raine's grip on the back of her shoes tightened. It was a nasty piece of work, this prank. The professor's interruption of this entire commotion lent a more serious gravity to it. Raine lifted her free hand to cup the side of her mouth and stood on her tiptoes, now a half-inch shorter than before the flood:

"Upstairs, professor. They fell from one of the upper floors,"she forced her voice out loudly to make sure the Head of Ravenclaw heard her and then dropped back to her heels quickly. If the culprit had any brains, probably the top floor. A few glances shifted towards the fifth year but she kept herself expressionless; all she really wanted to do now was get to lunch. The hollowness in her stomach was bothering her and the faster this was over with, the sooner she could eat!

Before Vulpes could make it into the great hall, he heard what sounded like a teacher shouting.BE QUIET! it said. He froze and slowly turned on the spot. Vulpes had never heard their Astronomy professor yell. He began heading back up the stairs, noting that there was a very large amount of water cascading down it. How very odd...

He quickly ran back up the stairs reaching the other students who were around Professor Trishna. He hadn't managed to hear what the teacher had asked, but he soon heard Raine sayUpstairs, professor. They fell from one of the upper floors."

Vulpes decided not to say anything, as his answer would not differ. He simply pulled his headphones down and turned them off. He glanced around and saw a first year struggling to stop water from coming out of her wand. Doing his best not to smile (and to ignore the ankle deep water he was standing in) he looked up at the other floors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the culprit.