Finished Colours in Flux PV Novalie Moon

Skipping Flying class - a rare decision for Novalie, who usually never missed it - she spent the last two hours in the abandoned bathroom. Today’s class was only covering Quidditch history, and with no actual flying, she figured she could miss it without regret. Who even liked history anyway?

So, the Ravenclaw girl stood in front of the cracked, grimy mirror, her gaze fixed intensely on her own reflection as she concentrated on changing her hair color. Over a month had passed since she’d arrived at Hogwarts and though she’d made progress, she still struggled to shift her hair to the vibrant shades she envisioned. Recently, Novalie had managed natural colors - blonde, brunette - but more colorful hues like blue and pink remained just out of reach.
Halloween was approaching and Novalie, unable to afford a full costume, had written to her brothers for inspiration. One had suggested she try a character from his favorite video game: a girl with a simple mask and pastel pink hair. Novalie had already crafted the mask, but the hair color… now that was proving tricky.

The girl sighed as she checked her reflection again. Only the tips of her long red hair had turned the desired pink - a sick ombre effect, not gonna lie - but not what she’d envisioned. Maybe if she started with a bright blonde base, she could-

The door suddenly swung open, startling Novalie from her thoughts. Before she could turn, someone burst into the bathroom and collided with her, nearly dropping something they held.

“Whoa—sorry!”, the boy exclaimed, catching himself.

Novalie blinked before noticing his hair: it was exactly the kind of pink she’d been trying to achieve! She recognized him vaguely, too - he stood out with that hair color, though they didn’t seem to share any classes. What a bummer..

Without minding the potion in his hand and what it was for, she assumed immediately that he had to be a Metamorphmagus, just like her!
How hadn’t the redhead thought to find him sooner and ask for tips? Those books she’d been reading about focus and whatnot weren't helpful at all, seeing a real example on the other hand was exactly what she needed!
And here he was, effortlessly rocking the pink she’d been struggling for.

“Perfect timing!”, she said, grabbing his arm to pull him over to the mirror.
She lifted a strand of her own hair, showing him the fading pink at the tips.
“See? I can’t get it to go past this part! I was thinking…”

Novalie focused, turning her hair a pale blonde, then watched as her tips slowly shaded back to pink. With hopeful eyes, she looked up at him, not even knowing his name yet.

“Right? So, how do I do it?”

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ABANDONED TOILETS
2024-10-14
@Novalie Moon

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For a moment, Mamori stood frozen, caught off guard by the sudden grip on his arm and the enthusiastic pull toward the mirror. He blinked in confusion as the girl started talking about... parts? His eyes followed her gesture to her hair, not quite processing what she was trying to show him. The bathroom's dim lighting didn't help, and he was more preoccupied with making sure no one else would walk in on him. Then, right before his eyes, her hair transformed from red to blonde, with pink tips appearing like watercolors bleeding into paper. Mamori's jaw dropped slightly. It took his brain several seconds to catch up with what he was seeing — this wasn't a spell or a potion, this was... actual metamorphic ability? Then the realization of what she was asking hit Mamori just as his grip on the potion tube grew even tighter. Oh. Oh. She thought he was like her. A Metamorphmagus. But why? His mind raced to catch up — he hadn't done anything special, hadn't changed his appearance at all, so why would she think... Then it clicked. The pink hair. His pink hair. The hair he'd rushed here to fix because it was fading. Wait — this girl… As Mamori’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, it finally registered who she was. Novalie Moon from Ravenclaw — he'd seen her in passing, though he'd never noticed anything unusual about her hair before. And now, right in front of him, she was changing colors as easily as breathing. The irony of the situation was almost laughable — here he was, rushing to touch up his artificial hair color, only to run into someone who could actually change their appearance at will. And of course, she had to find him right when his dye job was starting to fail. Realizing he should probably say something before she started thinking he really could shift colors at will, Mamori cleared his throat, still piecing together his response. “I, uh, hate to disappoint, but... this isn’t exactly natural,” he admitted, blinking twice as he held up the small tube of pink liquid. He gave it a quick shake in front of her, the potion swirling as if to emphasize his point, then shook it once more for good measure. “Just a handy bottle of dye to keep up appearances.” He then glanced at her in the mirror again, watching as her pink tips bled delicately into the rest of her hair. That fading effect? It had a charm even the best potions couldn’t replicate. In fact, it was real, not a cosmetic trick — an untamed, raw kind of color. The sight stirred something in him, a curiosity he hadn’t felt before. He’d never met someone his age who could just… change on a whim. No potions, no Colorvaria spell. For a split second, he found himself wondering: what would it be like to wake up and choose his hair color with nothing more than a thought? “So, how long have you been doing this?” he asked, his gaze flicking to meet hers, genuine interest glimmering behind his usual playfulness. “Is it something you can just do, or is it more like a spell you’ve got to think about?” And then an idea hit him, the kind that brought an instant spark to his eyes. If he got to be friends with her — really knew her — maybe he could skip the hassle of dyes entirely. Novalie could change her hair color so easily; surely she could do the same for him? No more fussing with potions or planning touch-ups — just a quick word to Novalie, and voilà, new color. The sheer convenience, an instant fix to his own troubles… he’d be foolish to pass that up. Mamori’s demeanor then shifted to something even friendlier, and he gestured to her hair with a fresh enthusiasm. “You know, you’re already close to getting it fully pink. The color’s practically there! Maybe start with the roots instead of the tips? And yeah, definitely go lighter first — blonde would do. Sometimes with potions, I have to go in layers to make sure it all sticks.” He grinned, realizing he’d probably never be this invested in someone else’s hair, but here he was.

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“Oh.”
Novalie’s shoulders slumped slightly at his admission that he couldn’t change his appearance like she could. Her eyes drifted to the tube in his hand, realizing now that his pink hair was simply dyed, not a product of any magic.
So much for finding someone who could actually help her…

The girl sighed, turning back to her reflection.
It's okay, she would manage! There just had to be a way to make her hair fully pink instead of just the ends.
For a brief moment, she even considered snatching the dye from his hand and doing it the normal way. It’d be easier at this rate, wouldn’t it? And he seemed nice enough - surely he wouldn’t mind?
Novalie glanced at him again, noting how good the pink looked on him. Why was he even carrying around that tube? He’d done a great job already.

Her thoughts were interrupted when he asked a question, pulling her out of her own musings. He wanted to know how long she’d been able to change her appearance and whether she had to think of a spell to do it or not.
The Ravenclaw shook her head, “No, not really. I’ve only recently started to control it somehow. Before, it just… happened? My look would change with my emotions, mostly. If I felt something, like, really strongly, my appearance would shift.”
She glanced back at the tips of her long hair, surprised it hadn’t turned gray in frustration by now, honestly - a color it often took when she was feeling really exasperated.
At least she had a little more control now.
“Now, I just focus hard on picturing myself with a certain look, you know?”

When he then seemed to become a little bit friendlier, Novalie couldn’t help but feel a momentary flash of familiarity - like those strange people who used to knock on her apartment door, trying to convince her mother to switch internet providers or join some religious gathering. They’d wear the same friendly, intent look. But this boy wasn’t trying to sell her anything yet, in fact, his advice actually sounded helpful. Maybe, instead of picturing her hair pink all at once, she should imagine the color flowing from the roots to the tips. That just might work…

But as he brought up his dye again, Novalie couldn’t shake the thought that using that might simply be the easiest solution as for now. Her hair was blonde already, which would make the pink pop without worrying about layers and complicated stuff. Less effort all around, right?

“You know what, I want to try something.”, she said, grinning as she swiftly took the dye from his hand without intending to be mean, “I’ll see what happens if I put this on my hair, okay?”

Not only would she finally achieve her pink hair, but she’d get to experiment with what happened if she used her ability afterward - would the pink stay or vanish?

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ABANDONED TOILETS
2024-10-14
@Novalie Moon

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Mamori tilted his head with interest as the Ravenclaw described her hair-changing abilities. The idea of appearance shifting with emotions was oddly fascinating — he found himself wondering what shade frustration looked like, and whether embarrassment came in pink or red. Though before he could ask, she had already casually snatched the tube of dye from his hand. The friendly expression dropped from Mamori's face as his eyes widened at Novalie's sudden movement. "Oi, HOLD ON!" He plucked the tube back from her grasp, urgency breaking through his usual composure, barely masking his growing impatience. "That’s what I brought to use now, and these," he gestured to his roots, where his natural color had started to show, "aren't going to fix themselves!" Mamori's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, mentally adding 'personal boundaries' to the growing list of skills this kid seemed to lack. Realizing he might have sounded a bit rough, he cleared his throat, offering a quick, “Sorry if that came off harsh.” A hint of a smile softened his expression. "You know, most people at least share their Chocolate Frogs before borrowing my stuff." He glanced meaningfully at her currently blonde hair. "Besides, wouldn't it be more impressive to master that talent of yours without needing dye just to test it? Think about it — anyone can use dye, but how many people can just..." With a playful flick of his fingers, he mimed a spell, "...think themselves pink? If changing your own hair is a challenge now, how are you going to manage changing other people's hair color in the future?" He then let out a small sigh, running a hand through his two-toned hair, feeling the beginnings of a compromise forming in his mind. Perhaps there was a way they could both get what they wanted — he just needed to give her something worthwhile, something to make this feel like a fair trade. After all, she was obviously curious, and he wasn’t against helping... as long as he didn’t end up with half-dyed hair by the end of it. "Hey, how about this — let’s make a deal. You help me touch up my roots first since I was here on a mission, and then I'll share what's left for your experiment? I've got some experience with this stuff, so trust me, a bit of guidance will save you a lot of cleanup." Just then a second solution formed in his mind, one that had nothing to do with his usual problem-solving approach. But the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became. He found himself saying, "Or... five Galleons and it's yours right now." The words felt strange coming out of his mouth. Just a month and a half ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about money — not when his parents had always made sure he had everything he needed and more. Yet here he was, trying to profit off his own predicament. Something about being at Hogwarts had awakened a peculiar appetite for extra gold in him — maybe it was that fancy silver arrow his fellow first-year was always polishing in the common room, maybe it was those imported Japanese sweets he'd spotted in another student's trunk that reminded him of home, or perhaps those premium quills with auto-refilling ink he'd seen in the older students' hands. Whatever the reason, that newfound urge seemed enough to make the prospect of walking into afternoon classes with fading dye just a bit more bearable.

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Novalie’s eyes widened as the boy snatched the dye tube back, his friendly demeanor dropping abruptly.
She blinked, a bit taken aback, just as he offered a quick apology. Tilting her head slightly, Novalie studied him, wondering why he was so protective over his dye. He wanted to 'fix' his hair?
The girl still thought it looked great as it was, but seeing how much it mattered to him, she decided not to push the issue. After all, he was also right - it would be more impressive if she could master changing her hair color naturally instead of resorting to 'normal ways'.
“Yeah, I know, I know..”, she sighed, her frustration creeping back as she looked at her reflection.
Her hair was a plain blonde again, the pink tips already faded.
“It’s just so exhausting.”, she murmured, twisting a long strand between her fingers, “I’ve been at it, like, for hours.”

When the boy mentioned changing other people’s hair color someday, she turned to him, her brows furrowing.
She could do that?
Novalie tilted her head yet again - a habit whenever she felt perplexed - wondering why she’d never heard of that ability. Then again, she didn’t know many other Metamorphmagi well, nor did she read a lot of books on that topic. After a few sites, she usually ended up reading the same lines over and over again without actually getting the point. Her attention span was .. something else, that was fur sure.
But the idea of transforming someone else’s appearance… now that was a skill she’d love to master!

“Hey, how about this-”, his voice cut through her thoughts.
So he wanted her to help him?
Her face lit up instantly, a bright smile spreading across her lips.
“Yeah, I can totally help you!”, Novalie eagerly rolled up her sleeves, ready to dive in, when he suddenly offered an alternative: “Or... five Galleons and it’s yours right now.”.

Novalie froze, mid-movement. He.. wanted money?
The Ravenclaw instinctively patted her pockets, but of course, they were empty - she never carried money around. Where would she even get it?
“I don’t have any money.”, she said, meeting his gaze.
Novalie couldn’t help but find it somewhat amusing - for someone so passionate about his hair, he seemed just as quick to part with his dye for the right price. Maybe he was like those salespeople who used to show up at her door. She wondered if he’d grown up with parents who took him out knocking on doors instead of playing outside. Did they perhaps do it as a family activity or something? Getting things sold?

“Anyway!”, the girl exclaimed, regaining her cheerful grin, “What do you want me to do now? Hold your hair a certain way or something?”
She positioned herself behind him, like a hairdresser standing over their client in front of the mirror. Reaching out, she touched his hair gently, her smile widening even further with a sudden realization,
“Ah - I see it now! You’re actually blonde, right?”
She chuckled softly, “Is pink, like, your favorite color or is there another reason you’re always dying it?”

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ABANDONED TOILETS
2024-10-14
@Novalie Moon

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Mamori's stream of hair-dyeing advice trailed off as he watched Novalie's increasingly frustrated attempts in the mirror. Her complaint about it taking hours made him raise an eyebrow — they'd literally just started lunch break. Typical beginner stuff, he figured. Judging from how she described it, this ability was something that came naturally to her anyway, so she'd probably figure it out eventually. "Since it's part of who you are," he said, leaning against the sink with an air of casual expertise, "maybe ease up a bit? Practice little by little — it's not like that impressive ability of yours is going to vanish when you turn eighteen or something." He shrugged, watching her reflection with mild amusement. "Might work better than trying to strong-arm it." Her patting her pockets and declaring she had no money derailed his train of thought. Well, there went five galleons — and potentially a whole lot more, he thought with a twinge of disappointment. Actually... this could still work. A nice little business venture started forming in his head; after all, who wouldn't pay good money for instant hair transformations? Could be a goldmine, especially with all those first and second years desperate to stand out. He'd have to work out the details later, but for now, he had more pressing matters at hand. Before he could even suggest what they should do next, Novalie had already positioned herself behind him, fingers threading through his hair. He wasn't even surprised anymore — it seemed to be her thing, taking initiative without waiting for instructions. "Well, since you're offering..." he grinned at their reflection, uncapping the potion tube. "Careful with that," he said, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket before handling the tube. "This stuff stains everything it touches. And I mean everything — had to scrub my hands for ages last time. Not making that mistake again." "Here, just hold my hair up in sections while I apply it," he instructed, reaching for the first strand. Though he planned to do most of the dyeing himself, he couldn't help turning into a human jukebox anyway. "We'll start from the back — that's where it's fading the worst. See these patches?" He twisted around to show her. "You've got to separate it into layers, kind of like how you'd peel an orange. Otherwise, you'll miss spots and it'll look all weird when it dries. And whatever you do, don't let it drip onto my uniform — my dad would kill me if I ruined another one." He knew perfectly well that a simple cleaning spell would do the trick, but a little extra caution from her wouldn't hurt. Her question about his natural color made him pause mid-instruction. "Yeah, blonde," he muttered, glancing at his reflection where those telltale strands were starting to show through the pink. His eyes flickered to the bathroom door for a moment. Not that anyone ever came in here, but still. "Look, keep that between us, okay?" He tugged at one of the faded strands, nose wrinkling slightly. "It's not exactly top secret or anything, but—" He caught himself, then decided he might as well explain the whole thing. "Started with my mum's birthday gift, actually," he said, running a hand through his fading pink strands. "Just some random hair dye she picked up. But then everyone started going 'oh, you're that pink-haired kid' and well..." He shrugged, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his grin. "Beats being another boring blonde. Seriously, have you seen our year? Did every blonde kid in Britain get their Hogwarts letter or something?" He snorted. "It's like they're running some kind of special promotion — enroll now, get your blonde hair free." He flicked at a particularly bright strand of pink. "At least this way, people remember who I am." Realizing he might've said too much about the whole blonde situation, Mamori quickly switched gears. "Anyway," he said, focusing back on the dyeing process, "been thinking about trying something different next year. So yeah, that Metamorphmagus ability of yours?" He gestured vaguely at her reflection in the mirror. "Might come in handy. That is, if you're willing to help out again."

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At the boy’s reassuring words, Novalie blinked a few times.
He was right - there was time to master this ability, no need to rush. But with Halloween just around the corner, she really, really wanted to perfect the pink hair by then. The rest could wait.

The Ravenclaw listened half-heartedly as he explained how to hold his hair, her focus wavering. Something about sections and whatnot.
“Yeah, yeah, got it!”, she said, lifting random parts in a way that completely disregarded his instructions.
His comment about the dye staining the skin piqued her curiosity however. Maybe she could get a tiny smear on her fingertips and see if changing her skin color would affect it. Maybe the colors would somehow blend? Perhaps.. she could make herself look like a zebra that way?!
Also - would he use a spell to keep his own hands clean while applying the dye later or what was his plan? That seemed like a lot of effort though - being so cautious all the time sounded exhausting.

Novalie tilted her head when he explained why he dyed his hair pink in the first place: to stand out and be remembered, huh? Without it, he felt he’d blend in like any other blonde student it seemed..
“That sounds really sad.”, the girl said bluntly, meeting his eyes in the mirror, “I mean, just being remembered for your hair color. It’s like you don’t have any other qualities worth remembering.”
She released one hand from his hair and patted his shoulder, a sunny grin spreading across her face, “Oh, but don’t worry! I won’t remember you as the pink-haired kid at all! I’ll remember you as…”
Tilting her head to the other side, her green eyes flicked up to the ceiling as she thought for a moment before suddenly looking back at him.
“- the boy who would sell his soul for money!”, she declared proudly, as if she didn't just insult him with that.
But yeah, that felt fitting! Everyone had their quirks and that was okay, right? Novalie hadn't meant it in a rude way whatsoever.

Before anything though, something sparked in her mind, making her eyes light up.
“Oh wait- I’ve got an idea!”
Novalie let go of his hair completely, “What if we just, like, put the dye in your hair and rub it all over like shampoo? That’d work, wouldn’t it? And I don’t mind if my hands get stained - I can do it for you!”
To emphasize her eagerness, she wiggled her fingers, making playful clawing motions as she reached for the bottle yet again, ready to take over.
"You can totally trust me on that!"

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ABANDONED TOILETS
2024-10-14
@Novalie Moon

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Through the mirror's reflection, Mamori watched helplessly as Novalie lifted random sections of his hair, completely disregarding his earlier explanation about the dye. His enthusiasm waned as he realized the futility of it all. There was no point, really ᅳ she clearly seemed to cherry-pick information, hearing only what aligned with whatever idea had captured her imagination at the moment. Then came her comment about his identity crisis, and something in Mamori's usually calm demeanor cracked slightly. Her follow-up about remembering him as "the boy who would sell his soul for money" only twisted the knife further. For someone who smugly considered himself above such petty mortal reactions as anger, this girl... she was proving to be an absolute genius at pushing his buttons. And the most frustrating part? His hair was still essentially being held hostage in her hands. What made it even worse was the likelihood that she probably didn't even mean any harm ᅳ it just seemed to be her natural way of being. Breathe in, breathe out. The mantra cycled through his head, eyes squeezed shut — both to calm his nerves and avoid seeing his own reflection. 天然ボケ floated through his thoughts as he listened to her excited shuffling. Natural airhead indeed — and a terrifying one at that. "Fine, have it your way, Ms. Color-Shift," he muttered in defeat. Since she hadn't bothered asking for his name, he didn't feel particularly compelled to use hers either. Just when he thought the back-and-forth had settled, that same look crossed her face ᅳ the one that meant trouble. "Just rub it all over like shampoo!" The suggestion made him want to clutch his precious dye bottle and bolt. Yet he lingered, watching her. The pattern was becoming clear: she'd barrel through with her own methods, tossing aside any semblance of proper instructions. First would come the "I thought it'd work!" declaration, then that spark of whatever new idea possessed her. Turn her down now? She'd probably corner him again later with another wild scheme. At this point, letting her mess up and learn from it might be the simplest solution. "You can totally trust me on that!" "No, I have exactly zero trust in you," Mamori responded flatly. Nevertheless, he reached for a long scroll of blank parchment, carefully wrapping it around his uniform like an impromptu barber's cape. Better safe than sorry. "But go ahead," he sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable. "Though don't say I didn't warn you — that creative method of yours is going to use up way more dye than necessary. You'll end up with barely a quarter of the tube left instead of half." Mamori glanced between the tube and Novalie's eager face, already picturing the ways this could backfire. A dry laugh almost escaped him as he passed the tube over. Wasn't he usually the one causing others to sigh and shake their heads? But around this girl, he'd somehow fallen into the role of ツッコミ役 the voice of reason? idk there really isn’t an exact equivalent term in english for this to her chaos. 天然ボケは本当に怖い。Natural airheads are truly terrifying

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Ms. Color-Shift?
Novalie’s eyes gleamed with excitement, as if she’d just been handed a glowing compliment from the boy. He was really nice! And that nickname? Sick. She’d have to come up with something equally cool to call him… but what?

Her mind wandered briefly. Didn’t those Korean singers dye their hair a lot too? She remembered a classmate back home who was obsessed with a girl group, covering everything she owned with stickers of them - even her pencil case had one of their faces plastered on it.
But what was their name again..?
Oh, right - Blackpink! That’d suit him perfectly: pink hair and a black soul. But then she remembered her earlier promise not to define him by his hair color.
Well.. that was off the table then.

While the boy said something about trusting her - Novalie was great at tuning out everything but the parts she wanted to hear - she seized the dye with a triumphant grin.
“Too bad we don’t have music in here.”, the Ravenclaw said, pouring some dye onto his hair with zero hesitation, “That’d make this so much more fun!”
Setting the tube on the sink, she ran her fingers through his hair, massaging the dye into the blonde strands. Though her approach was chaotic, her touch was surprisingly gentle and she actually seemed to be doing a decent job of evenly spreading the color.

Still, the silence was a bummer.
Ah - but they could just sing, right?
Unfortunately for her newfound friend, Novalie had no intention of blessing him with a typical singing voice. Oh no. She was a rapper at heart.
Her brothers’ favorite songs often blasted on repeat at home and one in particular sprang to mind in that moment.
With dramatic flair, she began, “His palms are sweaty, arms weak, knees are heavy - there’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti.”
Her rhythm was off and she swapped a few words around, but she didn’t care. Bobbing her head in time (or what she thought was time), the girl worked the dye into his hair with increasing enthusiasm.
“He’s nervous, but on the surface, he looks ready, but he keeps forgetting what he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud-”
Novalie paused, squinting at the mirror as if the next line might magically appear there. Instead of dwelling on it however, she shrugged, skipped ahead and continued somewhere entirely else in the song,
“You better lose yourself, the moment you own it, you better never let it go go, and - uh - you got one shot...”
She tilted her head, blinking at him in confusion, “How does the rest go?”

Her hands were now bright pink, but Novalie was far too wrapped up in her impromptu performance to notice, let alone remember her earlier plan to experiment with her Metamorphmagus abilities.
Various snippets of other songs began playing in her head, making it impossible to focus. Wasn’t rap usually about money or something? Speaking of which...!

“You know what?”, she broke into an even wider grin, turning her sparkling gaze toward him, “I’ll call you Gold Digger!”
To her, it was a flawless compliment - after all, she’d heard it in tons of songs and figured it must mean someone who loved money and worked hard for it. Novalie beamed, clearly proud of her new creation.