p align="left"Anne had been hoping for a memorable first day as Head Girl, but now she was wondering if she should have been a tad more specific./p
p align="left"Things had started out fine. Perfect, even, which is probably why the universe decided to deal Anne the disastrous scenario that followed. On the train, she had arrived early enough to meet all of the prefects, and so she had begun to divide the job of monitoring the various cars among everyone. By the time everybody was there, there was a set plan on how they were going to approach it, and it was being carried out perfectly. Phillip Carlyle, the Head Boy, had arrived about ten minutes into the planning. This had been slightly concerning for Anne, who had only communicated with her partner in stiff, unsure letters of congratulations over the summer. Neither seemed able to find the right words all summer. She supposed it was natural, seeing as they had never interacted before. The two of them had classes together, yes, being two of the brightest students in the school. But with advanced classes focused heavily on independent study and neither knew the other well enough to pair up for the few projects they were assigned. /p
p align="left"That was the least of her worries, though she tried not to think about it. The Carlyle family had a reputation, and it was not one that painted a hopeful picture of Phillip's respect for a Muggle-born. The past few years had seen a palpable increase in the tension between Muggle-borns and Pureblooded wizards as You-Know-Who grew more and more powerful. Not all Purebloods held the supremacist attitude towards Muggles, of course. But the Carlyles were one of the most notorious families for this attitude and had been for generations, and Phillip Carlyle was the only heir to this legacy of hatred in a time when such superiority was thriving. The thought of what might happen while they were forced to work side-by-side had caused her more sleepless nights than she cared to admit. /p
p align="left"However, Phillip's arrival on the train had brought no ominous thunder or sudden chill, so that had been a plus. /p
p align="left"Really, Phillip was nothing but supportive of the orders Anne had given. He assumed the role of enforcing her plans rather than trying to make his own, which Anne discovered when she heard him instructing some of the new Fifth Year Prefects./p
p align="left""She's the one running the show right now," he had informed them, and there was no malice or sarcasm in his voice as he said it. "That's good for you, because she's going to give you a little part of the plan to work with. If you do your job well, then everyone else will be able to do theirs, and we'll be able to get this train to the station without burning it down."/p
p align="left"The two Fifth Year girls he had been speaking to had burst into giggles at that, but Anne had found herself feeling just the slightest bit flattered. She had considered going over to greet him, maybe thank him in a professional manner, but it was at that moment that a Third Year boy burst into the compartment, saying, "Umm... So, we were just sitting there, right, and then the seat started smoking, and we don't know how it happened, but there's a small hole burned in-"/p
p align="left""How small is 'small?'"/p
p align="left""I dunno, I mean, most of the seat is gone, but-" /p
p align="left"Neither had spoken to the other after that, for as the Prefects began to do their jobs, various situations arose that demanded each of their separate attentions. This was a development that Anne did not mind, and she was happy to keep busy on the ride to the castle. By the time that the Hogwarts Express had pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Anne had successfully handled a game of Exploding Snap gone wrong, a misfired charm that caused the snack trolley to overturn, and a mess made of a pair of robes during a game of Gobstones. As she watched the students leave the Express, Anne was aware of the fact that her face was flushed and her curls were escaping her buns in wisps. But she also felt proud, like she was beginning to live up to the shiny badge pinned to the front of her worn Ravenclaw robes that were a few inches too short. /p
p align="left"It did irk her slightly that Phillip Carlyle looked as unruffled as ever from where he stood across from her, making sure that all of the students made their way out. /p
p align="left"After that, things were a blur. Anne and the Carlyle boy were tasked with making sure that students knew where to assume their seats since Professor Lutz was unable to do so while she was tending to the First Years. After the majority of the students were seated, Anne made her way to the Head Table to ask any of the professors what they should be doing next./p
p align="left""Excuse me," she called to the nearest teacher, the blonde Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Professor Barnum glanced over at Anne with a kind eyebrow raised. "Is there anything else that we can do, Professor?" Anne queried, hopeful. She needed something to busy herself with, or else she was fairly sure her energy would fall flat. /p
p align="left"Professor Barnum hummed softly, appearing to think. "Erm... I don't think so, no," she replied, smiling apologetically as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "But I am sure that Phineas said something about the Sorting starting soon. You two have done more than enough for now, I think, so you can go enjoy the festivities with the rest of us."/p
p align="left"Anne nodded, offering the professor a polite smile that hid her disappointment. "Thank you, Ma'am," she murmured, inclining her head respectfully. She was fairly sure that she felt Professor Barnum's motherly gaze upon her back as she weaved between students on the way back to the Ravenclaw side of the Great Hall./p
p align="left"As Anne left the table, she saw that Carlyle had already taken this advice. He was seated in the middle of a group of affluent Slytherin students, and he was laughing at something the brunette girl across from him had said. It did not set in until that moment that Anne did not have anyone to sit with now that W.D. had graduated./p
p align="left"Her brother was working in the Three Broomsticks in order to support them, and Anne knew about the second job that he was hiding. She had noticed the owls coming at odd hours of the night to their tiny flat in Hogsmeade, and she had even managed to sneak one out of the trash, from which she deduced that he was doing some translation of Runes for scholars in Albania. Anne's heart ached that her brother, a brilliant Runes translator who could have found a prestigious job anywhere in the world, was slaving away at a pub for her sake every day. When she graduated, Anne was determined to pick up and leave to start a new life with W.D. They would go somewhere, anywhere, and Anne would get a job researching advanced potions until she was accepted by some major Quidditch team. But until then, Anne no longer had anyone to sit with. /p
p align="left"She took a spot at the very end of the Ravenclaw table where no one else sat, fiddling with the napkin on the table absently. She could feel eyes on her, now that she was Head Girl... And she knew those eyes came along with whispers. They did not linger too long, as people had better things to talk about, but she still looked down at the hem of her threadbare sleeve to avoid seeing the brief glances. Anne had never been particularly popular. People knew she was brilliant, they knew that she was one of the best Chasers that Hogwarts had seen for decades, maybe even a century. But for as many acquaintances as Anne had, her dedication to her schoolwork and Quidditch performance did not leave much room for any real friends./p
p align="left" A few moments later, an ample distraction came to turn any unwanted attention away from Anne. Headmaster Barnum rose, and with a wave of his wand, he magicked away the tables. The Headmaster's skinny, slightly mousy appearance was deceiving, for this man was a master of the classes of illusion and enchantment. He was renowned for it in many circles, and Anne was fascinated by the slight flair for the dramatic the man had. She had always been attentive to his words, respecting the air of mystery that clung to him like cobwebs. /p
p align="left"The Sorting commenced thereafter. It was a short one, with a particularly small incoming Year. However, there was a noticeable disturbance throughout the ceremony. Anne noticed almost immediately that whenever a surname that was well-known and respected in the magical community was announced, it was greeted with full applause. There were several surnames, however, that were known to be traditionally common in Muggle communities. The cheering following these names was weakened as if at least a third of the students had dropped out. Anne's eyes narrowed, and as soon as any student with a name such as her own was announced, she could be observed to be cheering twice as loud as normal. Several of the teachers picked up on the incident as well, and Anne was fairly sure she caught a glimpse of Professor Barnum and her husband murmuring sonorous charms so that the cheering of the teachers was magnified. /p
p align="left"By the time that Zabel, Francine had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Headmaster Barnum had summoned the tables again out of thin air. Gasps filled the room from the First year students who had not been there to see it the first time, and Anne felt a little smile play with her lips. The Headmaster gave a quick speech, and then with a flourish of his wand, the platters before the students all became filled with enough food to feed a small army. Chatter rose to mingle with the cozy sounds of clattering forks and knives, and Anne felt herself visibly relax. Maybe she wasn't exactly a part of it, but this was the part of Hogwarts that she loved. Moments like these, where so many students just existed together, made it feel like home. /p
p align="left"Of course, the day chose that moment to turn for the worse. /p
p align="left"Anne had only just begun to pour a goblet of pumpkin juice when she first noticed the disturbance, coming from one end of the Slytherin table. Three boys, Fourth Year students, Anne guessed, were using their wands to send little chunks of candied carrots flying to hit a pair of Muggle-born twins across the aisle. Anne set down her goblet, preparing to rise to call the students out. Before she had managed to extricate herself from the table, however, one of the twins had turned and fixed the Fourth Years with a smirk. Anne hastened her efforts to reach the students, but it was much too late. An entire bowl of steak and kidney pudding flew across the aisle to splatter the three students and anyone in the immediate vicinity. For a moment, all conversation fell silent, and there was a moment of hollow space. /p
p align="left"And then, the shouting began. /p
p align="left"Wands flew out, and Anne fumbled to keep her own in her hand as she desperately scanned the room, trying to see where she was most needed. Anne's ears were overloaded with a tangle of layering spells, most of which sent various trays and plates of food zooming through the air. At first, Anne struggled to appeal to the casters of the spells, but there were far too many. She cursed under her breath as she began to nonverbally cast as many shield charms as she physically could. Invisible barriers sprung up between the attackers and their intended victims, and they effectively stopped the food from flying any further. Unfortunately, this mostly resulted in whatever was being thrown being propelled back towards the attacker, spreading still more food everywhere. /p
p align="left"A plate of treacle tart whizzed past Anne's head, and she narrowly dodged it only to be met with a full tureen of chowder. The soup drenched her and a pair of First Years from head to toe, and a shocked gasp left the lips of the children behind her. Anne winced and quickly darted back, gripping them by the hands and pulling them under the table. "Stay here until it's over," she instructed the shell-shocked girls before sliding out from underneath again, leaving them gaping at her retreating form. /p
p align="left"Anne fought to move forward, doing as much damage control as she possibly could. Dodging food became completely impossible at this point. What might have been an entire ham narrowly missed Anne's head, shoving her hair out of her bun and getting the soaked curls everywhere. Several pastries were hurled at Anne and smashed into her shoulder, her arm, and her chest, smearing all down the front of her robes. A bowl of lukewarm porridge dumped over her head, and the Head Girl fought to wipe it out of her eyes as she forged forward. All she could do, at the moment, was vanish whatever flying food she could hit. Luckily, Anne had fairly decent aim, and she managed to completely remove several large platters of turkey, ham, and chicken from the air before they could actually hurt someone. Through all of the fighting, she could barely tell who was who, until she stumbled into a form slightly taller than her. Anne whirled around with her wand out, ready to stun the perpetrator if need be./p
p align="left"Instead, she found herself coming face-to-face with a thoroughly flustered Phillip Carlyle. /p
p align="left"He looked absolutely ridiculous, with what must have been half of a pudding plastered to his hair and the side of his face. What Anne guessed was chocolate syrup dripped down the side of his face, and what had been his pristine, brand-new robes were covered with mashed potatoes and pumpkin juice. There was a determination in his eyes that was rather comical, seeing as his normally perfect hair was in a cowlick that looked like something from a cartoon. However, as he raised her wand at her, she did not find it hard to believe that he might stun her. /p
p align="left""Carlyle!" she called, over all the noise. "Stop, it's Anne Wheeler!" He froze for a moment, blinking, and Anne remembered that she probably looked equally ridiculous. But then, relief spread over his food-covered features. /p
p align="left""Thank Merlin," he exclaimed, gripping her by the arm and yanking her to the side to avoid a flying sponge cake. "Are you the one who's been vanishing things?" /p
p align="left""Yes," she called, tugging her arm free from his grip immediately. She did not have time to be flustered by the sudden, unwanted contact. "This needs to stop, now, before it gets out of hand!"/p
p align="left""I think it's a bit late for that, as I just saw Headmaster Barnum quite literally pie Professor Barnum in the face." /p
p align="left""Are you certain-" /p
p align="left""I would testify to it before Wizengamot." /p
p align="left"Anne gritted her teeth and glared at nothing in particular. "Maybe if we can get to Professor Lutz, then-" /p
p align="left"Behind them, there was a massive boom, and Anne cried out. Carylye was touching her again, pulling her to the ground with him. She landed sprawled rather uncomfortably on his solid chest, and quickly Anne moved to haul herself off of him. As if that was not enough, a bowl of tuna salad shot by them, effectively covering the both of them in creamy goop. /p
p align="left""Sorry, sorry," Carlyle panted, looking up at her with blue eyes that were as wide as the saucer that broke against the wall behind them. /p
p align="left""What was-" /p
p align="left"Just then, a rancid smell filled the hall, and Anne clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. Carlyle did the same, not before Anne caught a glimpse of a gag. /p
p align="left""Dugbob," Carlyle's muffled voice reached her ears as the disgusted coughing of many students filled the hall. Anne felt her level of frustration skyrocket. /p
p align="left""Dungbombs?" she spat. "For the love of all things holy, who the-" /p
p align="left"Another boom, and this time Anne was ready. She ducked her head under the nearest table, but Carlyle was not quick enough. Mud flew through the air, hitting him square in the face. Immediately, the Head Boy turned and began to cough, attempting to get out whatever he could from his mouth. Anne stood, trying to locate where the Dungbombs were being set off. The smell was crippling, but she kept a hand clapped over her mouth as she struggled to make her way forward, leaving Carlyle behind. Another detonated, and Anne felt the mud splatter her, too. But she managed to keep it out of her eyes, and that was all that she needed. She pushed her way forward, and through the cloud of brown smoke, she spotted the Fifth Year who was detonating them crouching over another one. /p
p align="left""emEvanesco/em!" Anne shouted, taking aim at the bomb. The boom still set off, but only a little bit more filth flew through the air like projectiles. The rest vanished, along with the bomb, and Anne aimed a silent 'emPetrificus totalus!/em' at the single figure she could see in the center of all of the smoke. She heard a crack that meant that the charm had met the intended target, and then, in the haze of the smoke and the break in the fight, Carlyle climbed onto the Slytherin table, almost slipping in the spill of soup on top of it. Anne pointed her wand at him, murmuring a breathless "emSonorous/em."/p
p align="left"And then, above everything, Carlyle's voice boomed, "The next student to use food as a projectile will personally volunteer to work in the kitchens for two weeks, after they clean all of this up!" /p
p align="left"The hall was silent, and Anne let out a soft groan as she leaned against the table at his feet. No noise could be heard except for the labored breath of the students and the dripping of food off of robes. Carlyle let out a massive breath of relief as Anne rubbed her temples and stared at the growing pile of porridge and tuna fish chunks at her feet. /p
p align="left"Anne was fairly certain she would not be forgetting her first day as Head Girl anytime soon. /p
p align="left"Things had started out fine. Perfect, even, which is probably why the universe decided to deal Anne the disastrous scenario that followed. On the train, she had arrived early enough to meet all of the prefects, and so she had begun to divide the job of monitoring the various cars among everyone. By the time everybody was there, there was a set plan on how they were going to approach it, and it was being carried out perfectly. Phillip Carlyle, the Head Boy, had arrived about ten minutes into the planning. This had been slightly concerning for Anne, who had only communicated with her partner in stiff, unsure letters of congratulations over the summer. Neither seemed able to find the right words all summer. She supposed it was natural, seeing as they had never interacted before. The two of them had classes together, yes, being two of the brightest students in the school. But with advanced classes focused heavily on independent study and neither knew the other well enough to pair up for the few projects they were assigned. /p
p align="left"That was the least of her worries, though she tried not to think about it. The Carlyle family had a reputation, and it was not one that painted a hopeful picture of Phillip's respect for a Muggle-born. The past few years had seen a palpable increase in the tension between Muggle-borns and Pureblooded wizards as You-Know-Who grew more and more powerful. Not all Purebloods held the supremacist attitude towards Muggles, of course. But the Carlyles were one of the most notorious families for this attitude and had been for generations, and Phillip Carlyle was the only heir to this legacy of hatred in a time when such superiority was thriving. The thought of what might happen while they were forced to work side-by-side had caused her more sleepless nights than she cared to admit. /p
p align="left"However, Phillip's arrival on the train had brought no ominous thunder or sudden chill, so that had been a plus. /p
p align="left"Really, Phillip was nothing but supportive of the orders Anne had given. He assumed the role of enforcing her plans rather than trying to make his own, which Anne discovered when she heard him instructing some of the new Fifth Year Prefects./p
p align="left""She's the one running the show right now," he had informed them, and there was no malice or sarcasm in his voice as he said it. "That's good for you, because she's going to give you a little part of the plan to work with. If you do your job well, then everyone else will be able to do theirs, and we'll be able to get this train to the station without burning it down."/p
p align="left"The two Fifth Year girls he had been speaking to had burst into giggles at that, but Anne had found herself feeling just the slightest bit flattered. She had considered going over to greet him, maybe thank him in a professional manner, but it was at that moment that a Third Year boy burst into the compartment, saying, "Umm... So, we were just sitting there, right, and then the seat started smoking, and we don't know how it happened, but there's a small hole burned in-"/p
p align="left""How small is 'small?'"/p
p align="left""I dunno, I mean, most of the seat is gone, but-" /p
p align="left"Neither had spoken to the other after that, for as the Prefects began to do their jobs, various situations arose that demanded each of their separate attentions. This was a development that Anne did not mind, and she was happy to keep busy on the ride to the castle. By the time that the Hogwarts Express had pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Anne had successfully handled a game of Exploding Snap gone wrong, a misfired charm that caused the snack trolley to overturn, and a mess made of a pair of robes during a game of Gobstones. As she watched the students leave the Express, Anne was aware of the fact that her face was flushed and her curls were escaping her buns in wisps. But she also felt proud, like she was beginning to live up to the shiny badge pinned to the front of her worn Ravenclaw robes that were a few inches too short. /p
p align="left"It did irk her slightly that Phillip Carlyle looked as unruffled as ever from where he stood across from her, making sure that all of the students made their way out. /p
p align="left"After that, things were a blur. Anne and the Carlyle boy were tasked with making sure that students knew where to assume their seats since Professor Lutz was unable to do so while she was tending to the First Years. After the majority of the students were seated, Anne made her way to the Head Table to ask any of the professors what they should be doing next./p
p align="left""Excuse me," she called to the nearest teacher, the blonde Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Professor Barnum glanced over at Anne with a kind eyebrow raised. "Is there anything else that we can do, Professor?" Anne queried, hopeful. She needed something to busy herself with, or else she was fairly sure her energy would fall flat. /p
p align="left"Professor Barnum hummed softly, appearing to think. "Erm... I don't think so, no," she replied, smiling apologetically as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "But I am sure that Phineas said something about the Sorting starting soon. You two have done more than enough for now, I think, so you can go enjoy the festivities with the rest of us."/p
p align="left"Anne nodded, offering the professor a polite smile that hid her disappointment. "Thank you, Ma'am," she murmured, inclining her head respectfully. She was fairly sure that she felt Professor Barnum's motherly gaze upon her back as she weaved between students on the way back to the Ravenclaw side of the Great Hall./p
p align="left"As Anne left the table, she saw that Carlyle had already taken this advice. He was seated in the middle of a group of affluent Slytherin students, and he was laughing at something the brunette girl across from him had said. It did not set in until that moment that Anne did not have anyone to sit with now that W.D. had graduated./p
p align="left"Her brother was working in the Three Broomsticks in order to support them, and Anne knew about the second job that he was hiding. She had noticed the owls coming at odd hours of the night to their tiny flat in Hogsmeade, and she had even managed to sneak one out of the trash, from which she deduced that he was doing some translation of Runes for scholars in Albania. Anne's heart ached that her brother, a brilliant Runes translator who could have found a prestigious job anywhere in the world, was slaving away at a pub for her sake every day. When she graduated, Anne was determined to pick up and leave to start a new life with W.D. They would go somewhere, anywhere, and Anne would get a job researching advanced potions until she was accepted by some major Quidditch team. But until then, Anne no longer had anyone to sit with. /p
p align="left"She took a spot at the very end of the Ravenclaw table where no one else sat, fiddling with the napkin on the table absently. She could feel eyes on her, now that she was Head Girl... And she knew those eyes came along with whispers. They did not linger too long, as people had better things to talk about, but she still looked down at the hem of her threadbare sleeve to avoid seeing the brief glances. Anne had never been particularly popular. People knew she was brilliant, they knew that she was one of the best Chasers that Hogwarts had seen for decades, maybe even a century. But for as many acquaintances as Anne had, her dedication to her schoolwork and Quidditch performance did not leave much room for any real friends./p
p align="left" A few moments later, an ample distraction came to turn any unwanted attention away from Anne. Headmaster Barnum rose, and with a wave of his wand, he magicked away the tables. The Headmaster's skinny, slightly mousy appearance was deceiving, for this man was a master of the classes of illusion and enchantment. He was renowned for it in many circles, and Anne was fascinated by the slight flair for the dramatic the man had. She had always been attentive to his words, respecting the air of mystery that clung to him like cobwebs. /p
p align="left"The Sorting commenced thereafter. It was a short one, with a particularly small incoming Year. However, there was a noticeable disturbance throughout the ceremony. Anne noticed almost immediately that whenever a surname that was well-known and respected in the magical community was announced, it was greeted with full applause. There were several surnames, however, that were known to be traditionally common in Muggle communities. The cheering following these names was weakened as if at least a third of the students had dropped out. Anne's eyes narrowed, and as soon as any student with a name such as her own was announced, she could be observed to be cheering twice as loud as normal. Several of the teachers picked up on the incident as well, and Anne was fairly sure she caught a glimpse of Professor Barnum and her husband murmuring sonorous charms so that the cheering of the teachers was magnified. /p
p align="left"By the time that Zabel, Francine had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Headmaster Barnum had summoned the tables again out of thin air. Gasps filled the room from the First year students who had not been there to see it the first time, and Anne felt a little smile play with her lips. The Headmaster gave a quick speech, and then with a flourish of his wand, the platters before the students all became filled with enough food to feed a small army. Chatter rose to mingle with the cozy sounds of clattering forks and knives, and Anne felt herself visibly relax. Maybe she wasn't exactly a part of it, but this was the part of Hogwarts that she loved. Moments like these, where so many students just existed together, made it feel like home. /p
p align="left"Of course, the day chose that moment to turn for the worse. /p
p align="left"Anne had only just begun to pour a goblet of pumpkin juice when she first noticed the disturbance, coming from one end of the Slytherin table. Three boys, Fourth Year students, Anne guessed, were using their wands to send little chunks of candied carrots flying to hit a pair of Muggle-born twins across the aisle. Anne set down her goblet, preparing to rise to call the students out. Before she had managed to extricate herself from the table, however, one of the twins had turned and fixed the Fourth Years with a smirk. Anne hastened her efforts to reach the students, but it was much too late. An entire bowl of steak and kidney pudding flew across the aisle to splatter the three students and anyone in the immediate vicinity. For a moment, all conversation fell silent, and there was a moment of hollow space. /p
p align="left"And then, the shouting began. /p
p align="left"Wands flew out, and Anne fumbled to keep her own in her hand as she desperately scanned the room, trying to see where she was most needed. Anne's ears were overloaded with a tangle of layering spells, most of which sent various trays and plates of food zooming through the air. At first, Anne struggled to appeal to the casters of the spells, but there were far too many. She cursed under her breath as she began to nonverbally cast as many shield charms as she physically could. Invisible barriers sprung up between the attackers and their intended victims, and they effectively stopped the food from flying any further. Unfortunately, this mostly resulted in whatever was being thrown being propelled back towards the attacker, spreading still more food everywhere. /p
p align="left"A plate of treacle tart whizzed past Anne's head, and she narrowly dodged it only to be met with a full tureen of chowder. The soup drenched her and a pair of First Years from head to toe, and a shocked gasp left the lips of the children behind her. Anne winced and quickly darted back, gripping them by the hands and pulling them under the table. "Stay here until it's over," she instructed the shell-shocked girls before sliding out from underneath again, leaving them gaping at her retreating form. /p
p align="left"Anne fought to move forward, doing as much damage control as she possibly could. Dodging food became completely impossible at this point. What might have been an entire ham narrowly missed Anne's head, shoving her hair out of her bun and getting the soaked curls everywhere. Several pastries were hurled at Anne and smashed into her shoulder, her arm, and her chest, smearing all down the front of her robes. A bowl of lukewarm porridge dumped over her head, and the Head Girl fought to wipe it out of her eyes as she forged forward. All she could do, at the moment, was vanish whatever flying food she could hit. Luckily, Anne had fairly decent aim, and she managed to completely remove several large platters of turkey, ham, and chicken from the air before they could actually hurt someone. Through all of the fighting, she could barely tell who was who, until she stumbled into a form slightly taller than her. Anne whirled around with her wand out, ready to stun the perpetrator if need be./p
p align="left"Instead, she found herself coming face-to-face with a thoroughly flustered Phillip Carlyle. /p
p align="left"He looked absolutely ridiculous, with what must have been half of a pudding plastered to his hair and the side of his face. What Anne guessed was chocolate syrup dripped down the side of his face, and what had been his pristine, brand-new robes were covered with mashed potatoes and pumpkin juice. There was a determination in his eyes that was rather comical, seeing as his normally perfect hair was in a cowlick that looked like something from a cartoon. However, as he raised her wand at her, she did not find it hard to believe that he might stun her. /p
p align="left""Carlyle!" she called, over all the noise. "Stop, it's Anne Wheeler!" He froze for a moment, blinking, and Anne remembered that she probably looked equally ridiculous. But then, relief spread over his food-covered features. /p
p align="left""Thank Merlin," he exclaimed, gripping her by the arm and yanking her to the side to avoid a flying sponge cake. "Are you the one who's been vanishing things?" /p
p align="left""Yes," she called, tugging her arm free from his grip immediately. She did not have time to be flustered by the sudden, unwanted contact. "This needs to stop, now, before it gets out of hand!"/p
p align="left""I think it's a bit late for that, as I just saw Headmaster Barnum quite literally pie Professor Barnum in the face." /p
p align="left""Are you certain-" /p
p align="left""I would testify to it before Wizengamot." /p
p align="left"Anne gritted her teeth and glared at nothing in particular. "Maybe if we can get to Professor Lutz, then-" /p
p align="left"Behind them, there was a massive boom, and Anne cried out. Carylye was touching her again, pulling her to the ground with him. She landed sprawled rather uncomfortably on his solid chest, and quickly Anne moved to haul herself off of him. As if that was not enough, a bowl of tuna salad shot by them, effectively covering the both of them in creamy goop. /p
p align="left""Sorry, sorry," Carlyle panted, looking up at her with blue eyes that were as wide as the saucer that broke against the wall behind them. /p
p align="left""What was-" /p
p align="left"Just then, a rancid smell filled the hall, and Anne clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. Carlyle did the same, not before Anne caught a glimpse of a gag. /p
p align="left""Dugbob," Carlyle's muffled voice reached her ears as the disgusted coughing of many students filled the hall. Anne felt her level of frustration skyrocket. /p
p align="left""Dungbombs?" she spat. "For the love of all things holy, who the-" /p
p align="left"Another boom, and this time Anne was ready. She ducked her head under the nearest table, but Carlyle was not quick enough. Mud flew through the air, hitting him square in the face. Immediately, the Head Boy turned and began to cough, attempting to get out whatever he could from his mouth. Anne stood, trying to locate where the Dungbombs were being set off. The smell was crippling, but she kept a hand clapped over her mouth as she struggled to make her way forward, leaving Carlyle behind. Another detonated, and Anne felt the mud splatter her, too. But she managed to keep it out of her eyes, and that was all that she needed. She pushed her way forward, and through the cloud of brown smoke, she spotted the Fifth Year who was detonating them crouching over another one. /p
p align="left""emEvanesco/em!" Anne shouted, taking aim at the bomb. The boom still set off, but only a little bit more filth flew through the air like projectiles. The rest vanished, along with the bomb, and Anne aimed a silent 'emPetrificus totalus!/em' at the single figure she could see in the center of all of the smoke. She heard a crack that meant that the charm had met the intended target, and then, in the haze of the smoke and the break in the fight, Carlyle climbed onto the Slytherin table, almost slipping in the spill of soup on top of it. Anne pointed her wand at him, murmuring a breathless "emSonorous/em."/p
p align="left"And then, above everything, Carlyle's voice boomed, "The next student to use food as a projectile will personally volunteer to work in the kitchens for two weeks, after they clean all of this up!" /p
p align="left"The hall was silent, and Anne let out a soft groan as she leaned against the table at his feet. No noise could be heard except for the labored breath of the students and the dripping of food off of robes. Carlyle let out a massive breath of relief as Anne rubbed her temples and stared at the growing pile of porridge and tuna fish chunks at her feet. /p
p align="left"Anne was fairly certain she would not be forgetting her first day as Head Girl anytime soon. /p