Tapestry Hunt PV Pamela Graham

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Speech -- Thoughts

Pam was bored. And cold.

She sighed, leaning back against the couch she had chosen, pulling her quilt tighter around her. She needed to do something which was not homework. There were about three new books she had brought from home after the holidays, but she did not want to start it just yet. After all, it would need to last her till August. She wondered what she was going to do once she finished reading all the books back home.

She was glad to be back though. In the four months she had been here, she had started to develop a fondness for this place and the people here. Well, most of them anyway.

Her holidays had been pretty good, Christmas at home was always....happy. And there had been a LOT of baking. Minus the part where her father had frowned about her lack of enthusiasm at Herbology and History of Magic, and nearly got a heart attack after hearing what she had scored in it, christmas had been nice. She had returned with a promise to keep him more.....updated about her....life.

Pam pushed her thoughts away and pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her blanket snugly around her, planning to take a nap, until one of her friends found her. And so she sat in silence, listening to the sounds in the common room. Minus the useless chatter (which was quite boring), there was a lot to listen to. Someone was eating something, someone was clearly doing homework, someone was...feeding their cat? Pam was proud of this side of her, with her eyes shut, her ears rarely missed stuff, although her brain often couldn't register what it was. And with her eyes open, well, she noticed things well too.

Pam's attention was drawn to some weird sound she had never heard before and she sat up, startled, glancing around the room. Her eyes snatched on an all-too-familiar pink haired boy, tiptoeing out of the common room. Or attempting to at least.

Pam snorted unceremoniously, Please what is he doing. She made up her mind quickly and stood up, following the boy out of the room. She was never one to back out from potential trouble. Or fun. Later on though, it occurred to her that she may not really be welcome, sneaking after him. "Well, only if I get caught."

Get caught, she did.

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Interacting with: @Mamori Anezaki

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CORRIDORS
2025-01-10
@Pamela Graham

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When wandering the castle during these precarious pre-curfew minutes, there were exactly three things one needed to watch out for. First, obviously, were the patrolling professors and prefects. Second were the moving staircases that seemed to have a personal vendetta against anyone trying to use them, especially in these dim evening corridors. And third — perhaps most annoyingly — were the castle's supposedly inanimate residents: the occasionally-not-so-lazy gargoyles, the paintings that treated gossip like a competitive sport, the marble busts that turned to track you like some medieval surveillance system, and the ghosts that floated around like they were perpetually lost on their way to the afterlife. The first two were obvious enough to anyone with half a brain cell to rub together. The third one, though — that was where things got properly annoying. At least being a first-year came with one saving grace: you were small enough to duck below most paintings and marble busts, which helped avoid drawing their attention. Not that these centuries-old gossips could actually do anything themselves, but their endless eagerness to report suspicious activities to any passing staff member made them a proper nuisance. Most of them were so ancient they probably couldn't tell a student from a house-elf, but better safe than sorry. The ghosts, however, were an entirely different headache. Unlike their artistically confined cousins, these silvery nuisances could float freely in any direction, making it impossible to simply duck below their line of sight. And since they actually retained enough basic logic and thinking capacity, getting spotted meant wasting precious sneaking time trying to convince them that yes, you had very important business to attend to, and no, you weren't interested in hearing about their 500th deathday party planning committee. The Fat Friar was manageable enough — you could probably convince him your pre-curfew wandering was somehow charitable. But Peeves? That was like rolling a critical fail in life. The poltergeist was essentially a supercharged version of Novalie Moon — there was definitely a brain in there somewhere, but good luck trying to communicate with it in any reasonable way. If you ran into Peeves at this hour, you might as well write off your evening and dignity in one go. Speaking of ghosts — there was currently one hovering right in front of him on the third floor. Because of course there was. In Mamori's opinion, Hogwarts really had more unidentified flying ghosts than it had proper signage. Apart from the well-known ones, most just looked like identical copies of each other in old-fashioned clothes. This particular specimen, dressed in what appeared to be some sort of medieval nobleman's attire, was among the anonymous majority. To his surprise, this ghost seemed neither chatty nor interested in playing hall monitor. It just floated there with an expression that suggested it had just attended its own funeral, staring at Mamori with unblinking eyes before slowly raising an arm to point behind him. So Mamori, with puzzled curiosity, followed the ghost's pointing finger while maintaining his undignified crouch. And there, because the universe apparently had a particularly twisted sense of humor, stood Pamela Graham. "Merlin's most embarrassing dancing pants, Morgana's midnight mistake, and Godric's rusty sword collection," Mamori whispered-shouted, managing to keep his volume in check even as his vocabulary revealed just how thoroughly startled he was. Then the questions came tumbling out rapid-fire: "What are you doing here? Are you following me? And how are you so quiet about it — is this some kind of ambush?" First Ruth, now Pam. What was this, the practical portion of some secret ninja training program at Hogwarts? At this rate, they might as well discontinue the Invisibility Cloak market entirely. "Has my dazzling presence somehow offended your sensibilities to the point where you've decided to eliminate me through stealth tactics?" He pressed a hand to his chest, putting on his best wounded expression — only to realize, oh bloody hell, his heart was actually trying to break some sort of speed record under his palm. And thank Merlin it had been Pam and not a prefect. If he'd turned around to find a prefect's badge gleaming in the darkness, his heart would have probably attempted to escape through his throat, leaving said prefect to awkwardly explain to the new nurse how they'd found an unconscious first-year in the corridors just before curfew. Looking back to where the helpful ghost had been, Mamori found nothing but empty air. Typical. Here and gone like a student's motivation during History of Magic. No matter — despite this unexpected addition to his evening adventures, he intended to proceed with his mission. He turned back to Pamela, expression shifting to something marginally more serious. "I'm currently engaged in a very important covert operation," he declared with all the gravity of someone announcing a ministry decree. "You have two choices: become my accomplice in this endeavor, sharing in both glory and potential detention, or return to whence you came, speaking of this encounter to no one." Of course, the glory-to-detention ratio would probably heavily favor the latter, but Pam didn't need to know that particular detail.

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Speech -- Thoughts

Pam realised three things as she followed the pink headed boy down the dark corridors. One, she was better at keeping silent than she would have expected. Two, hiding from the portraits and ghosts was difficult and time-consuming. And third, Mamori Anezaki was not good at noticing his surroundings.

She said this because she tripped over invisible in the dark corners approximately four times before he caught her. Correction, the ghost caught her for him. The portraits and ghosts were always major snitches. Atleast with the portraits, you could convince them that you were a kitchen elf. Pam had to admit she had done that a few times. It was both saddening and impressive that she was actually short enough to be considered an elf. Like, her father was tall, where did all those genes go?

And then there were the ghosts. Pam missed the time when she thought they didn't exist or couldn't be seen. She had never really had the time to think about whether she had actually believed in the existence of ghosts before she discovered they do exist and so the question of belief was gone.

Now, after the ghost revealed her to Mamori and disappeared into thin air like all all ghosts always do, like, thank you for nothing, she flashed the boy her best smile, attempting to look as innocent as possible. However his next words made her giggle, Morgana what now? His phrase reminded her of the 'Merlin' TV show she had watched about a year ago.

The boy was always sassy and Pam truly enjoyed the way he talked. Although, she frequently wondered if he literally ever understood that he did it. She retorted with a grin, "Didn't you practically demand to be followed when u 'sneaked' out of the common room earlier?" She did an exaggerated impression of his earlier behaviour, "Also, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have waited for some random ghost to point me out to you." She shook her head in mock seriousness, "You should really be more aware of your surroundings. Where are we going anyway?"

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Interacting with: @Mamori Anezaki

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CORRIDORS
2025-01-10
@Pamela Graham

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"I beg your absolute pardon, but I have no idea what you're talking about," Mamori huffed, straightening up from his still-crouched position to meet Pamela's gaze. "My sneaking tactics are clearly perfection incarnate, seeing as you're the only one who's managed to spot me so far." He made a show of dusting off his robes with wounded dignity, every bit the eleven-year-old who considered his stealth skills to be absolutely top-tier. Not everyone had the opportunity to attend some secret ninja training classes like some people apparently did. Her next statement, however, proved remarkably promising. No tedious interrogation about his motivations, no lengthy sermon about proper student conduct — just a straightforward "where are we going?" How delightfully practical. If it had been anyone else (especially a certain bushy-haired chess prodigy) they'd probably still be standing there debating the ethics of pre-curfew wandering until the evening's potential was thoroughly squandered. "Fifth floor," Mamori replied with a deliberately mysterious air. "Where a room of untold treasures awaits. We just need to find the entrance first." He kept the details intentionally vague — the book had been quite clear about the room adapting to the first person's desires, and he wasn't about to risk someone else dashing through that door before him. All his careful planning would be wasted if the room turned into, say, a giant library or whatever else Pam might wish for. Though technically, he wasn't really lying. Given his intimate knowledge of his own preferences, the room would either manifest as a chamber overflowing with valuable artifacts or a premium broomstick showroom. There really wasn't much room for a third option. Without further elaboration, he gestured for her to follow, leading them through a careful dance of ducking under portraits, freezing at suspicious corner shadows, and generally doing their best impression of particularly stealthy house-elves. Years of experience (or more accurately, four months of rigorous trial and error) had taught him that taking the moving staircases straight up from the third floor was essentially painting a target on their backs. No, the trick was to take the long way around — much harder to look suspicious when you appeared to be hopelessly lost. After all, who would suspect someone of breaking rules when they looked like they couldn't tell their dormitory from the dungeons? And so, after what felt like an eternity of tactical corridor navigation, they were approaching... ah yes, almost... nearly the fifth floor. Pausing at a particularly shadowy corner, Mamori turned to face Pam with what he hoped was a suitably mysterious expression. "We're almost at our destination. Tell me, fellow wanderer —" he paused mid-sentence, suddenly feeling the weight of the day bearing down on him. Merlin, he was too tired for this level of theatrics. "— you know what, never mind. How well do you know the fifth floor? Because the number of times we'll end up walking in circles really depends on your answer."

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Speech -- Thoughts

Pam rolled her eyes at the pink-haired boy, grinning. Her father had always said that Pam was good at adapting to her surroundings and Pam was finally beginning to see what exactly he had meant. Because Mamori Anezaki brought out a childish side of her she didn't really know existed. Although she wasn't sure if her father had been talking about the fact that Pam was always overcome with a desire to be an immature disaster when it came to Mamori.

Well as long as she didn't completely give in to her impulses everything would be okay, right?
(Here's a hint: Pam was never good at controlling her tongue)

Which was why she piped up, her words coming out more flippant than normal as she said, "Look at you, so sure of yourself. If your sneaking skills were truly 'perfection incarnate' as you put it, I wouldn't have been able to follow you either. Not to mention that I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have spotted me at all." She shook her head, "It's disappointing, being caught out by a ghost." she shrugged, "Although, considering that I wasn't exactly attempting to hide from you, it was probably more disappointing for you huh?"

His next words made her groan. What's with all the poetry? "Have you ever answered a question directly? You're lucky I don't hate riddles." Although, as Pam started to properly think back on his statement, it proved to be far easier than all the sudoku and jumbled words her father had put her through. "Do you mean the Room of Requirement?" Pam hoped she was correct, because if she wasn't and the boy asked her what that was....well Pam wanted to avoid a conversation in that direction.

Howver, despite her earlier comments, Mamori was surprisingly good at sneaking about. Pam would need to learn it from him someday. For now, they headed up towards the fifth floor taking pretty much every staircase except the direct one, from the third floor. "How do you know so much on sneaking about?" Pam whispered to him. She wasn't a stranger to being sneaky, but from her experience, one would need EXCELLENT knowledge of the area to be even a little good at sneaking. And they had been here for barely 4 months.

Yeah, he probably doesn't spend as much time as me in the library and plotting how to sneak into the Restricted Section...

She snapped out of her thoughts at Mamori's question and raised an eyebrow, "Transfiguration." She replied, not really bothering to elaborate, "I've never really bothered to search for the Room of Requirement." As she said that, something occurred to her, "On that note, why are we looking for it?"

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Interacting with: @Mamori Anezaki

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CORRIDORS
2025-01-10
@Pamela Graham

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First years really were full of surprises. Since when did everyone know about the Room of Requirement? Had there been some sort of secret society meeting he wasn't informed about, where everyone traded notes on the castle's hidden spaces over tea and biscuits? How thoughtfully inclusive of them. Mamori briefly considered launching into one of his trademark extended monologues in response to Pamela's rather verbose commentary, but no — time was of the essence, and besides, attempting to out-sass someone in whispers just sounded pathetic. So he simply pressed on, gracefully ignoring most of her observations and quips. Though he did pause at her question about his sneaking expertise, especially since they'd finally reached the fifth floor. It seemed only fair to throw her a bone at this point. "Trade secrets, I'm afraid," he whispered, checking around the corner. "Already landed myself a Comet 180 with these skills." He tactfully omitted the fact that said broom was definitely pre-loved, as the upper years would say. "Consider this a free trial, future sneaking expeditions will come with a consultation fee." Not that he'd admit it, but spending two to three hours each day wandering the castle post-homework had certainly helped perfect his techniques. What else was he supposed to do with his evenings? Actually read more books? Perish the thought. Pam's knowledge of the fifth floor, while unsurprising, still drew a slight sigh of disappointment. "So we're equally clueless then. Brilliant." he signed, checking his pocket watch. Ten minutes until curfew. Not ideal, but workable. If his unexpected companion couldn't provide any useful intel, she might as well help with the legwork. "We're looking for a tapestry with Barnabas the Barmy and some trolls in tutus. You take the Transfiguration wing, I'll go right. Meet back here in five minutes, found or not. Good luck." He gave her a quick wave before heading right, hoping his chosen direction would prove more fruitful.

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Speech -- Thoughts

Now, it would have been terribly embarrassing if Pam did not know what the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was. Thankfully for her, she did. However the latter....."What on earth is Tutus?" she muttered, turning to walk off in the opposite direction, "He means the trolls that are shown in the tapestry right? I've never heard of people explicitly mention trolls while talking about the painting. Ugh, I should do more research on it." She shook her head, Nice thoughts, nice thoughts. Hopefully, Mamori had been talking about only the tapestry and not two different things. Oh boy, I'm in for a dance.

She made her way down the dark corridors, choosing to stick to the shadows while checking out the framed paintings. She did her best to be quiet, she did not want to get caught halfway through their expedition. Trolls....trolls....trolls.... her eyes scanned over the portraits quickly, as she walked by them.

And tripped over her feet.

She yelped, sprawling onto the floor and some mutterings were heard. Darn it, which portraits did I wake up this time? "Who's there?" She heard a groggy male voice speak up, and remained still, praying that she wouldn't get caught, until she heard one of the people in the portraits rearrange themselves to go to sleep. Silence reigned again, and Pam decided to take her chances. All hail the darkness. she thought, carefully getting to her feet, ensuring no-one saw her. But seriously, why do we need portraits with their own brains? So inconvenient.

Her cheeks were feeling warm with embarrassment, and Pam was suddenly glad Mamori hadn't been there to see her momentary decline in dignity. The boy would probably not let her hear the end of it. Pam frowned as she reached the end of the Transfiguration wing, with no sight of the painting in question. Hopefully Mamori's had better luck? She turned back to return the way she had come.

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Interacting with: @Mamori Anezaki