S.N.O.G copied thread

Colin shook his head as Prat tried to play some kind of prank on Harvey. Poor lad. Colin was sure his necktie was done up so tight not enough blood would get to his brain to even realise he was in trouble! Colin laughed softly. What was this even about dancing!? Really Prat! "A must for all S.N.O.G. nights, eh Prat?" Colin raised an eyebrow. "Aye, that makes sense!" Colin wondered he was up to. Hm. Maybe he fancied the firstie?

Colin shrugged.

Matt finally got out a response to his greeting. "Great McCoire just fantastic thanks for asking." Poor lad. Colin shrugged. His voice was strained. "You sure, mate? Do we need to get to hospital already? You sound like you've downed some U-No-Poo! Nasty stuff that!""Great McCoire just fantastic thanks for asking."

Colin's eyes scanned the gathering. Matthew seemed to be focused on Aamon. Prat was just being Prat. He wasn't sure what Harvey's issue was, if it wasn't suffocation by neck tie. Colin's focus returned to Aamon. Something interesting was going on between and Matt. His eyes narrowed. A curious scent wafted towards his nose. A scent he was very familiar with, having spent quite a few afternoons last year digging around in the rubbish bins behind the Hog's Head, looking for partially full bottles of --- certain liquids. A couple times, he even found a full bottle!

Nasty stuff as a rule. Tasting like goblin piss, but sometimes even a forgetfulness charm wouldn't quite do the trick.

He wondered why Matt would offer Aamon his own bottle of water. He smirked. Water --- right! Clearly he was playing some kind of game of his own! “I don’t drink other people’s water. It could be poisoned,” Aamon said. Colin smirked. The kid knew his stuff. Colin reckoned from that moment, that Aamon would be alright.

"Right you are lad! Always best to avoid the water. Good lesson for Matty. He looks constipated. But! You never know what ye're gonna find in your flask. Could be some illegal potion or something!" Colin smirked again. He'd learned that lesson, and was still struggling with the after effects of being hooked on the thick dark liquid. Good stuff though!

“Not that I think you’d poison it! I mean, you could, but—” Aamon blurted out. Colin wondered if the lad had meant not to say the obvious. Aamon seemed to be trying to sort something out in his mind. It was like watching a kid playing chess. Each time a piece destroyed another, he had to reassess his next forty moves.

“This is water, right?” Aamon asked.

Colin snorted.

His hand tried desperately to cover his growing laughter.

"Mate. I doubt he's trying to poison you! A Muggleborn wouldn't even have a clue! A Pureblood like Matt wouldn't make it so obvious!" Colin shook his head. He thought back to the rager. Yeah. Whenever you try to put something in someone's drink, you didn't just announce the fact. You had to be discrete! Of course, Colin knew he was the farthest thing from discrete! Still, no one had put a bowl of spiked punch, a curious line of fine sand and Colin McCoire together in the same place at the same time!

Date: February 1st 2025

Aamon was curious in an unsettling way that Matthew had to admit threw him through a sort of loop. Most purebloods were predictable for their hate was so blatant it clouded judgement, thus made them easy to manipulate. In fact it was barely even considered manipulation given their instincts actively sought to deny his claims and prove him wrong. That was how it was supposed to happen, that had been his experience with near enough every one so far. So when his trick failed to work on the boy who blurted out thee most unbalancing statement possible he was left to freefall into the unknown completely losing himself so far that he didn't even hear Colin's words.

Twisted mischief fell flat on it's face given the prospect that the boy genuinely seemed to have some belief that Matthew was trying to poison him. Not that it took long for him to stumble a denial of the accusation, hiding behind the shroud of his family but still the fact remained that he had thought such a thing of him. In a fraction of a second all his anger, all the negativity he had been stewing for weeks began to contort and twist his stomach in knots as he came face to face with the realisation of what he had once again become.

Hadn't this been the exact reason why his first year had been spent so miserably alone, why he and Archer had practically murdered each other on sight every time they crossed paths and prevented them from the friendship they now had begun. Once again the bile of anger and hate had corrupted his heart and blurred his vision and this time it wasn't just a screaming match. This time as unbelievably ridiculous as it seemed to him he had clearly become someone that seemed capable of actual harm.

The anger didn't simply dissipate he still felt it writhing deep within his chest but now all the pain and rage he felt seemed unnatural and sickly like a poison warping his mind, creating a version of himself he didn't want to be. Had he really seemed capable of poisoning someone? More to the point, had someone not stopped his fury, would he have been? The moment happened so fast and reality crashed down all around him as he instinctively found himself holding his mother's ring twisting the amber around his finger as he contemplated the boys words.

Not only had the boy felt worried that Matthew was going to attack him but he now seemed quiet and small despite his stature, robbed of the freedom and fun the event was meant to inspire. The whole event had been ulterior motives for all involved but he never realised how much his own would cause such fallout. Mind fractalizing he was only brought back in when the boy eyes him suspiciously and inspecting the flask asked him about the contents. Holy hell the kid really did think he was trying to poison him, he was genuinely worried.

Matthew's head became very heavy as he dropped it no longer wanting to face Aamon in the eye. "No, it's not. It's cider like adult apple juice. I wasn't trying to poison you I can't believe you'd actually think that I'm not some evil person, at least I don't think I am."- The words stuck in his throat as he looked over at the chest that waited expectantly at the foot of his bed. What had he been thinking, what had he been doing this entire month. His anger at first had been justified but now this was just ridiculous. Looking up at the boy bashfully he found himself rambling out an apology, "I'm sorry I just thought it would be funny to trick you I swear it's not poisoned I wouldn't do that, I mean here look."

Raising the flask to his mouth he took a larger swig than originally intended but as he felt the burn run down his throat he couldn't help but find solace in the rough bitter of the apple. Matthew wasn't exactly an experienced drinker but in Glasgow it wasn't exactly uncommon for the drinking age to be significantly less than what was legal and cider was a common start. Still as the fire ran down his throat he felt reprimanded and wondered what his mother would have said in this moment but as the thought settled his anger re-emerged for that was the very reason for its birth. Perhaps not all the answers would lie in her destroyed journal but Colin had robbed him of the chance when he flooded that toilet and he simply couldn't let that go, not fully.

As if on queue the obnoxious dog felt the need to comment rather than letting him prove his demonstration. There was so much heat prickling under his skin he barely knew how to function but just as he was about to burst Colin's words had him spluttering out the last twinges of amber liquid and actually laughing at the boy. "Sorry what did you just say Colin? Pureblood like me? I'm a muggleborn you utter clotpole, we've lived together for like a year now." The genuine bafflement suspended his anger adrift floating above him untethered from his physical form but despite the ridiculousness of the idiot he found his eyes drawn back to Aamon a kinder expression falling this time, slightly akin to guilt, "I'm afraid I've grown quite used to dealing with idiot purebloods like him I forget that not all of you are the same." There was a pain behind his eyes that bore a deeper well than a child of twelve should know and despite the attempt to lock it away it was clear that pain held the spark of aggression towards Colin.

Much was apparently the theme of tonight Saunders appeared out of nowhere and Matthew found himself thoroughly embarrassed that he had to witness this. By tomorrow the whole school would be calling him the pureblood poisoner. Of course having already caught him in a mental breakdown Saunders knew more than most about the boys instability but he couldn't worry of that right now. Napier was a great kid and at present he was doing good to calm the situation down to which Matthew was very grateful. Trying not to die from mortification at the entire events so far he just offered Saunders a small wave. How one could go from furious to baffled to ashamed to mortified in mere seconds needed to be studied professionally but for now he would just have to handle the fallout. For the record, this is exactly why Matthew didn't want this in their room!

For all the awkward makings that comprised the lanky stature of Keiran’s being, he was at least an individual with a healthy appetite. Mostly. If you consider the regular stringent compulsion to crack into something sweet and crunchy at the ass-crack of dusk being triggered by the simple act of deep thinking healthy, then yes, Keiran was a healthy growing teenager. Relatively so, too- his roommate’s stomach could be heard despite the towers of expectations and steps and reluctance in the form of weathered parchment between them as it, too, grumbled in response to Keiran’s digestive musings.

“I’m hungry.” Social algebra was never Keiran’s forte. It’d be a waste of time to comment on how Draven had coughed to cover up the sound- t the conversation would just make the two of them more hungry, anyway. Like a feral rat, Keiran Kith summoned his last remaining dopamine stores to focus his thoughts on one thing: Food. If they had any hope of finishing the nighter, they’d need sustenance - a mission of great gravity. Implications. All that. When finally every string in his mind had been tugged raw, an idea arose. “Yer hungry.”

“SNOG.” Closed eyes twitched as his pupils attempted to etch the poster’s details into his eyelids. In the dark, stood abruptly in the middle of his dorm room, at last - Keiran could see a way forward. Onward. “..’ncorage youse bring yer wands…an….eager spirit. Open passion. Whatever the feck.”

“I’m goin’-“ To food. “-M’be back in a wee bet.” With food.

The trek to the next dorm over was arduous. Armoured in his black PJS with white lining, Keiran had brought only the clothes on his back and a paper bag - Stealthwear. With the assurance that he had long since his first year mastered the art of invisibility, Kith glided into the room behind another student like a touch-averse barnacle, a parasite moving parallel to its host until it arrived at its destination to feed. Liquorice wands, chocolate rochers and choco-balls - - the base of the bag deforming under the weight of Keiran’s sins was exhilarating. It was almost satiating, the adrenaline. It scratched all the little voices that screamed for sustenance and ignited more that hollered for, well, just that - more.

Feverently, Keiran’s fingers flew to his waist to tuck his blouse into his trousers, the paper bag pinched between his lips. Handfuls of sherbert lemons and stringmints were shovelled into his pockets, one after another, the rest left to slide intrepidly down inside his shirt with near reckless abandon -

Kei caught a glimpse of himself in his reflection against the mahogany—a grim, feverish sight.

All for a good cause. Besides, the other boys seemed busy enough. Slacking. Tittering nonsense about nonsense about nonsense.

That said, he may need to slow down. Take a minute.

Yeah. Merlin. What was he doing?

@ Draven Mirador

Aamon sat stiffly, still digesting the whole situation with the cider, his brain looping over it like a stuck record. He had barely started processing Matt’s reaction before Colin came barreling into the conversation with his careless confidence.

"Mate. I doubt he's trying to poison you! A Muggleborn wouldn't even have a clue! A Pureblood like Matt wouldn't make it so obvious!"

Aamon blinked.

Wait.

Wait, what?

He had no idea what Colin was trying to say or suggest regarding Matt's blood status. He had called him both a pureblood and a muggleborn in the same breath.

Aamon's head turned toward Colin, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Matt’s… not a pureblood,” he said slowly, the words coming out more like a question than a statement.

Aamon hesitated, suddenly unsure if he had completely misread the situation. “I—I thought he wasn’t?” His gaze flickered toward Matt uncertainly, searching for confirmation.

His whole perception of Matt shifted in real time, and it must have been painfully obvious because his face went through about five different expressions before landing on deeply confused.

“I—I mean he sounds like—” he gestured vaguely, struggling for words. He sounded like a snake, a poorly dressed one in his night clothes or maybe underwear. He was not even wearing a button down which was weird but Colin was not even wearing a shirt, and then the midget (goblin) was basically ready to the public eye on casual fridays “I-I mean, he acts like—" he stammered as he struggled to explain himself. "He just didn't have a family name I knew and I thought Merlin’s beard, why is he in Slytherin?”

Aamon immediately regretted saying that.

Because, of course, that was the wrong thing to say.

Aamon flinched. “Okay, nope, bad question. Ignore that. That was—that was not what I meant.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, grimacing. “I mean, like, you’re—uh—clever and devious and you clearly enjoy tormenting me, so actually, yeah, no, I totally get why you’re in Slytherin now, never mind, forget I asked—” He wanted to shrink to something small enough that he could just scurry under the door or between the floorboards so that he could hide.

He was spiraling.

"I just don't remember your name and I'm super sorry about that," he rambled an apology as if calling Matthew a muggleborn or anything but a pureblood was a sin on bar with murder and coveting your king's favorite concubine or something seriously religius like that.

He forced himself to stop talking and instead focused on the real question plaguing him:

Why had he thought Matt was a muggleborn?

It wasn’t like Aamon cared—or at least, he was pretty sure he didn’t. His parents had drilled a lot of rules into him, and blood status was certainly one of them. But they were different in that there was a public persona and a private persona. In public, they loved muggleborns, muggles and all the weird little half-beings that seemed to infiltrate magical society these past decades. Still, he had assumed Matt was a pureblood simply because… because he did not know his name. Such a moment of unearned hubris. It didn't even fit he realized, Matt carried himself like a pureblood. Like he belonged. Like he expected people to look at him and know he was someone important. He was so much better at it than Aamon was.

Aamon didn’t know what to do with that realization.

And then there was Matt. Apologizing.

That was probably the most unsettling part. Aamon had braced himself for sarcasm, for smugness, for some sort of cruel joke. But instead, Matt was rambling, looking genuinely uncomfortable, rubbing at some old ring on his hand like he was grounding himself. He looked… almost guilty.

It took him a moment to even realize that Matthew was admitting to being a muggleborn. He looked over at Colin incredulously, by Morgana's brassier how did he not know this about his roomate? "So, which are you?" Aamon's head still spinning as he tried to tether himself to some logical path. "Muggleborn?" He asked as he sought some sort of confirmation. Once confirmed, Aamon would reply simply with "neat."

Aamon hesitated, glancing between him and the cider flask still sitting between them.

Oh.

Oh, he actually feels bad about it.

Aamon’s shoulders slowly untensed. The sting of being tested still lingered, but something about Matt’s expression made it less frustrating. This wasn’t just some random prank to him. There was something else going on—something Aamon wasn’t sure he had the pieces to understand yet.

“…Okay,” he said after a long pause, still watching Matt carefully. “I mean, I get it. You thought it’d be funny, but—” he exhaled, shaking his head. “Expecting water and getting room temperature juice would have been unexpected and maybe a bit silly," he chuckled slightly, thinking normal juice and not the alcoholic kind.

"I just—like to know what I am dealing with. People are not real helpful," he sighed thinking about the 'help' he had gotten from Finnegan. "I didn't even know that Slytherin took anything but purebloods," he admitted bashfully. Although it was rather obvious that wasn't the case, there was a part goblin in the room with them and they were not serving the group. He felt a bit uncomfortable as that notion crossed his mind. "I got no issue or opinion about muggleborns really," his hands up at waist level with his palms facing Matthew. "Mostly because I have not met many," he admitted with a shrug. "And I guess I am just sorry about jumping to conclusions, making assumptions... expecting the worst. I don’t drink things that aren’t mine. Ever. My family—” He caught himself before he said they’d kill me if I did, which was probably not the best thing to say right now. “It’s just a rule. I don’t break it. Has nothing to do with you.”

His voice had softened slightly.

This was no long con, it was on Aamon's part embarrassment and genuine regret—but on a positive note they were acknowledging one another.

Still, the guilt lingered. Matt was really weird about this whole thing, and Aamon had never been good at handling other people’s emotions—especially when they involved him.

So, in an effort to clear the tension, he did something very stupid.

He grabbed the flask and, without hesitation, took a mighty gulp. The sort that could be likened to shotgunning a can of beer if he had added an air vent to the other end, which he had not. It was the power of suction.

It was apple cider. Just like the kind he would ask the house elves to bring home from the orchard. It burned. It had gone sour. He made a face, a twisted grimace as he came to the incorrect realization. "Ugh, that was not just unexpected cider," he coughed. "It had gone sour," he complained as the burn trailed down his throat into his belly. He gave Matt a pointed look, as if to say see? It’s fine, before shoving the flask back at him.

And then it hit him.

His stomach warmed. Not unpleasantly, but in a way that made him immediately realize he’d made a grave mistake.

His eyes widened.

“…Wait.”

He turned to Colin so fast it was almost comical. “Colin. This is just cider, right?”

The world tilted.

Aamon froze.

"I don't think the French are very interested in poisons or spin the bottle," a new voice said. It was Saunders. One of his eyebrows was raised. "They're, well, more interested in playing pétanque." Colin blinked. He wasn't quite sure where to begin or even how to approach this turn in the conversation.

"I--- I reckon." He nodded slowly. "I mean. Most French are Muggles, so it stands to reason they'd be interested in playing in pee tanks. It --- It makes sense, actually. I reckon it's all because of how Muggles like bathe in poo." Colin shook his head. He thought back to that curious conversation he had with Avery and Claire in the hospital wing. "You know, he began; "Muggles have sixty different kinds of poo they use in the bath! It's true! They call it 'sham poo'. Don't ask me why; I mean, is it really fake poo or what? Muggles are just so weird that way, so yeah, it's not a surprise at all that they'd play in pee tanks."

Colin watched with mild amusement as some boy started shoving sweets down his shirt. But his attention was soon drawn back to Aamon. He seemed concerned about something. He was on about Matt. Colin's brows knit together. Matt's not a Pureblood? "He's not?" Colin asked. "I mean. He never told me one way or the other. I just figured he was Pureblood cos he doesn't talk about playing in a pee tank or bathing in poo or about being exchanged for a different baby in the toilet."

Colin shook his head. "Like! I know you've not done Muggle Studies, Aamon, but I've got loads of Muggleborn friends! Honestly, when you start taking that class, get yerself a couple Muggleborn friends! They can really help make sense of the utterly confusing world of Muggledom! Like take hand boxes, right? It makes no sense! Muggles always walk around whilst staring into hand boxes. Don't ask my why, but I've seen em do it! I think it's because they're all blind and they need hand boxes to see where they're going. I reckon they're like omnioculars. But Monica showed me a Muggle hand box. And, whoa. That was mind blowing! But nah. I'd be surprised if Matt weren't Muggleborn, lad. He's never once mentioned anything about his hand box."

"I didn't even know that Slytherin took anything but purebloods," Aamon said. Colin was actually rather surprised to learn that. He listened thoughtfully as Aamon continued. Both the first years seem to have gotten worked up over the whole issue. Colin thought it queer. One just never knew did one! He'd never even put much thought into being a Pureblood himself. Until he got shipped off to the Pyrenees for the LeDames Winter Ball. Yeugh! But here was a Pureblood and, apparently, a Muggleborn getting all weird about it.

Aamon's motions were quick! One second he was on about blood status and the next, he swiped Matt's flask! The tinkly sound of fluid sloshing around inside played about Colin's ears as the scent of alcohol did his nose!

"AAMON!" he called out, but the firstie had already taken a gulp of the stuff! Colin let out a gasp. "Ach! Aamon, ye're such a danger noodle!" He laughed merrily as Aamon began to feel the effects of whatever horrible stuff was in the flask. Aamon's eyes widened. Oh dear. "Oh crap. You shouldn't have drunk --- well, not that much of it!" Colin slipped his wand from its sheath strapped to his right arm.

"Accio flask," he said with a deft motion of his left hand. He caught the flask in his right, slipping his wand back into its sheath. Colin didn't know the implications of phrase 'cheap date', but Aamon seemed to be one. He gave Colin a goofy look.

"Colin. This is just cider, right?” Aamon asked.

Colin held the flask up to his nose. He sniffed delicately at it, his mouth open ever so slightly. His eyes darted back and forth as he took in the complex of aromas. He'd done well enough with alchemy, but there were some things a wolf just knew. "Made of apples. Scrumpy maybe," he said softly. "Well, mainly apples anyway. Saighdear?" There were some other scents in that bottle of Matt's. Colin narrowed his eyes. "More like scumble, maybe?" he asked himself. There was definitely an off quality to it. "Deffo off," he confirmed. "Hm! Saighdear! 'S deffo cider, mate! A bit off. Not enough to kill you. I reckon we can get you up to hospital wing in time if you start puking blood. Oh, and by the way, if you need to barf, aim for Matt." Colin swirled the flask a bit before setting down at his side. "Don't worry Aamon! There's not enough alcohol in there to be set on fire!"

MOD NOTE: @Matthew Campbell --- I've got yer flask! There's definitely something off in that flask!

Open to Interaction

Perhaps Harvey should have left his opinion on the seating arrangement unvoiced as the it earned him a stare or two. But seriously, sitting on the floor was for children. Yes, he was only eleven, yet weren't they here to be groomed into adults? Pillows on the floor. What was next? Ghost stories. He simply shrugged to himself as he dismissed his worry and returned his gaze to the others.

The boy that introduced himself as Prat would be the first to answer him. Harvey's brow would raise as the idea of dancing was offered. His beady little eyes followed Prat's gaze towards this Matt. The expression on his face indicated no desire to do so as he stared Harvey down. Was this really something that young boys from the magical world did? What purpose would it serve to dance with your housemates? His gaze drifted back towards Prat as he urged Harvey on. If this is what it took to get his foot in the door... The goblin had taken a step towards Matt when it finally registered. The playful tone to his voice, the ridiculous request. Teasing.

Harvey's first instinct was anger and Prat would surely see a flash of it if he was paying any attention. Yet that would slip away as quickly as it came as a smile crossed Harvey's lips. The tip of his long finger would tap his nose twice. A silent gesture for Prat...I see you. It was apparent that Harvey was amongst likeminded people. A little manipulation just for the sake of it. Something the goblin enjoyed himself from time to time just to remind himself that he could. "Perhaps you could show me a step or two?" Harvey held his hand out towards Prat daring the other boy to eat his words, but just then a dominating presence would appear.

Harvey did his best to keep his balance as some shirtless upperclassmen batted him on the shoulder. Just the kind of typical male attitude he had never grasped onto. Why would you strike someone you didn't even know? Why would you strike someone you did know? Harvey straightened his tie again and gently pressed against his hair to make sure all was in order. "Aren't we a bit old for cushion forts?" The boy whispered under his breath, but reluctantly lowered himself to the ground. "Shouldn't you be fully dressed?" Harvey did nothing to hide his disapproval as the chaotic energy of Colin was a turn off. He should have been more patient and kept a neutral tone as he knew nothing about this boy or what benefit of his friendship may bring, but that couldn't be helped now.

Harvey did his best to settle in and reset after the first round of interactions. His gaze would drift to Aamon as the boy seemed suspicious of shared drink. Harvey didn't blame the other. Not that he really feared being poisoned as he had not attended Hogwarts long enough to learn that lesson, but it was rather unhygienic. "No glasses?" Again Harvey's tone dripped with disapproval. What kind of gentlemanly gather was this? At least there was one other boy (Saunders) that offered some kind of formal greeting. "Nice to meet you as well. Name's Harvey. Please join us. We are sitting on pillows in various states of undress. Apparently there is some kind of lesson to be learned here?"

Harvey made hard eye contact with the rest as he took a daring stance with his words. Another ingredient tossed in to the bubbling cauldron. Why not give it a good stir? Yet the conversation would shift as blood status was introduced. Always a spicy subject in their world and seemingly more so in the Slytherin house. "You're rambling." Harvey directed towards Aamon. "Surely there are other qualities house Slytherin look for besides you knowing their family name?" His own family would surely not rings bells amongst the pureblooded high class, but Barrows would be on their list one day. He'd make sure of that. However, before Harvey could go any further, Aamon would begin to chug the cider in some attempt to smooth things over. Surely that would go over well...

Interactions: @Nabi Park | @Astra Norrick | @Keiran Kith Mentions:

Date: February 1st Location: Boys dorms

Outfit: x

- S.N.O.G -

The houses of Hogwarts were, as a rule, decently close. Cass certainly wouldn't claim to know every Slytherin in the place, but if some Slytherin was having a fight with a Gryffindor over which house was better they would certainly jump in stop the fight like their prefect duties told them to do of course. The common room was always full with people chatting, lounging around and sometimes even studying (ew) and gossip travelled fast. This particular gossip seemed quite eager to hide from them, which was a real shame. They hadn't changed as a person, they had just got hired (or whatever the word for being made prefect was)! Everyone acted happy for them but all of a sudden no one was telling them when they were going to slice all the chair legs in half so that it collapsed when people sat down. Did they think Cass was going to give them detention? They had avoided it like the plague so far, and certainly had no intentions of ever doing so would be fair and just with punishments if the need ever arose. In fact, they had received more detentions than they had given out.

But back to the very important topic at hand. There was something going on in the boys dorms. Cass wasn't entirely sure what it was, but if they thought they were hosting an event without them then they would be very much mistaken. Dressed in their lovely fluffy green Slytherin pyjamas, they had set out from their dorm on a mission they were not going to be distracted from, no matter what life threw at them. Hold on. Was that Nabi? Their amazing awesome broom racing teammate from earlier who always walked everywhere without smiling at anything like a sad serious statue? And why was she holding a book? Was she unaware of this amazing event that Cass was at least 60% sure that was happening? "Nabi!" they called out and ran after her "You're going the wrong way! It's in the boys dorms! And what are you doing with a book? It's not class". They hadn't known that the girl was directionally challenged. No matter. Cass would guide her!

"Wait, we can go together! Don't worry, I know where it is. Probably. How big can the boys dorms be?" they grabbed her by the wrist, not hard but enough to forcefully take her along on this adventure of theirs and continue their journey. Or at least they tried to. They got about three steps before spotting another girl in the common room. She was at Skyfall! Probably. They didn't exactly chat much before hopping on brooms and trying to knock each other out of the sky with their cauldron hats on, but they were pretty sure her name was... Okay, they were pretty sure she had a name. They just weren't particularly knowledgeable about what it was. "Its you!" they said delightedly "This is Nabi. She's super cool as well, and great at broom racing. Nabi this is... I'm not sure actually but shes great at totally legal broom sports!". Was mystery name forgotten girl going to be coming too? She was now at least.

OOC NOTE: PARAGRAPH COMING LATER AFTER I HEAR BACK FROM ASTRA

With their new accomplices in tow, they made their way there by following a trail of dudes to the mysterious and unknown boys dorms. Cass probably was not technically allowed in either the boys or the girls dorms, but who cared? Rules would not stop them from having fun today, no thank you. Their feet led them towards a particular dorm, set up like a weird indoor campsite with mattresses on the floor. Much stranger, there was a sign on the door saying gentleman only. Signs were not enough to stop Cass. They just took it off and put it face down on the floor. There. Now if they were asked why they were here, they could claim innocence. Also it was just funny to remove signs. Continuing into the room, they remarked to their companions that "That's a terrible name". The snack table however, was not terrible at all. Cass very much approved of the selection.

Before they attacked the snack table though, Cass had to stealthily find a place for them and their two new friends to sit. The mattresses were not okay, they were already short enough without sitting on the floor. The windowsill however, was calling them. "Come on" they said "Lets go claim this windowsill as our windowsill of judgement". Once they had arrived at their new couch, they would let their captives free and ploink their but down to sit. There were quite a few boys that they recognised, a decent half of the assembled group. Because they were undercover however, it would clearly defeat the point to just walk up to them and say hi. The candy however, was still there and taunting them. "I am going to fetch snacks. Please don't leave or kill anybody or do anything stupid unless I get to be a part of it" they said to the others.

Blocking their lovely snacks however, was a tall sad looking boy who was trying to smuggle some out. Cass had done it enough themselves enough to recognise it when they saw it. "Wow, you are tall. And your candy is gonna fall out if you try to carry it like that" they said as a lovely first introduction. Talking could come later however, because their mouth was begging to be filled with sherbet lemons. They picked up like five and stuffed their face full. "I'm a dude by the way. In case you were wondering" they said, trying to put on a deep, manly voice with far too much candy in their mouth.

Action: Entering with a train of unwilling sacrifices, removing the sign and placing it face down on the floor then claiming a windowsill to sit at and then raiding the candy

Date: February 1st 2025

“I—I mean he sounds like—”...“I-I mean, he acts like—"..."He just didn't have a family name I knew and I thought Merlin’s beard, why is he in Slytherin?” Why, why did Matthew give him the benefit of the doubt for even a second. What the hell did that mean, he sounded like a perfectly normal person from the area he was raised, sure it was a little rougher but he was just a human being. Was that what was so wrong with his actions too because what he actually treated people like people not on some antiquated bullshit about their blood. Then the final punch to the gut was questioning his place, the boy claimed he didn't know Slytherin accepted anything but purebloods but that just reinforced the stupidity of it all. There was nothing wrong with him and he deserved to be here. Right? The thought stripped him bear, there was no point in justifying his existence to these people, they would never see him for anything other than his differences.

Clearly his indignation met his face as the boy immediately flinched and started backpedalling as if his life depended on it. Yet unlike before Matt's anger didn't fester like a disease he just felt hollow, a kind of emptiness that had isolated him his entire first year. While the other made sure to imply all of the societally polite Matthew devolved into that dark internal place and only found himself feeling guilty for the actions he had performed so despite his entire mind warring with the necessity to he had apologised.

Confirming himself as a muggleborn with a shameful nod, nothing like the pride he usually wore for such things he felt himself grow small and quiet in the other boys presence. Though not one to ever leave a solid impression Aamon's next ramble turned the tides once more. Truly the boy was an enigma; "And I guess I am just sorry about jumping to conclusions, making assumptions... expecting the worst. I don’t drink things that aren’t mine. Ever. My family—” Dad would have been annoyed, when he learned about the purity beliefs of the school he had thrown a fit and Sean had made him enter his studio to channel the anger productively. But once he had calmed down and let his emotion bleed onto the canvas he had apologised and told Matthew that no matter how we feel an apology was an opportunity for forgiveness. "Holding onto emotion will hurt you as much as them, sometimes we need to forgive in order to help move forward."

His father's voice playing in his mind did wonders for him as it always had. Aamon's beliefs were flawed and far more destructive than he understood, but just like Matthew he was a product of his environment and if that childhood involved having to be on constant alert for poison maybe he was worse off enough as is. With his eyes still finding it hard to take in the boy he focused his attention on the fluffy flooring until the boys apology reached its finale, "I got no issue or opinion about muggleborns really, mostly because I have not met many and I guess I am just sorry about jumping to conclusions, making assumptions... expecting the worst. I don’t drink things that aren’t mine. Ever. My family—” Despite cutting himself off at the end the apology seemed genuine and while there was a chance this was simply his social political schooling masking his indifference the softness his voice took on seemed harmless.

Stumbling for the right words, wishing to make his father proud of his choice, he spoke equally as softly as he responded, "It's ok you didn't know any better, I can forgive you if you can me-" The warm moment however was cut off when his flask was stolen from his hand and the shrill howl of Colin screamed the boys name next to him. Matthew found himself rearing his head instinctively only to watch the boy take a brilliantly large gulp of the cider. The warm amber liquid glugging down as a wildness overtook the boy, betraying his typical lack of spontaneity. Still Matthew couldn't help but smirk with a hint of pride and a whole lot of happiness at the gesture. It was something akin to an olive branch proving that he had forgone his accusations and decided to trust him slightly, at least Matthew would take it as such.

Before he could display such joy the boys face contorted and he looked stunned frozen to the spot as he once again questioned the content of the flask. Matthew personally thought it tasted fine, sure his palette wasn't quite as refined as these two and his standards explicably less but other than the slight hint of lavender it tasted perfectly drinkable to him. Unable to get a word in as Colin summoned the flask to himself and used those keen senses, perhaps the only sense he had, to declare the drink to be off in someway. There was no way, nothing could have possibly gotten to them. But someone could have, mind instantly racing frantically he thought back to the night of the rager when he had discovered his letters to be stolen, letters that would have been under his pillow just in front of where the cider was stored. Surely the culprit hadn't tampered with it?

Matthew froze dead as the faint trace of lavender danced in the back of his throat and he remembered the smell being everywhere when the room had flooded, some of the water couldn't have gotten into the cider could it have. Or was something else entirely going on. Was poisoning truly something people had to worry about at Hogwarts if so that should be clearly stated on the syllabus, well actually he suppose it was they literally brewed antidotes for it commonly in Potions but that was hypothetical. Right?!? Then Colin's mocking tone filled his ears and he realised that he had been over exaggerating massively spouting rubbish about ending up in the hospital wing. With a defiant glare he spoke to both boys striking authority in his voice, "The cider is fine! Other than a slight lavender infusion probably from the mess YOU caused Colin it's just a bit old. I haven't now and haven't ever poisoned someone and I don't plan on starting! Now don't you have a lesson to lead professor or are you as mindless about everything as you are about muggles."

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MODERATION NOTES

As @Cass Ito ripped the sign off of the door they would notice a thick slimy substance along the lining of the paper that coated their hands as they tore down the sign sticking instantly to the palm of their skin. The 'Gentleman Only' sign had been pranked with a healthy amount of superglue and wizard tight, the magic adhesive tape, both of which found themself binding around Cass' hand and arm sticking the sign to their fuzzy pyjama sleeve as they entered.

With @Colin McCoire's heightened werewolf sense of smell they could smell the light floral lavender in the cider that didn't belong, but reminded Colin of the overpouring aroma of the water during the rager that had spilled into their own common room. There also seemed to be another smell ruminating from the flask, unfamiliar like the scent of a different person. Having bunked with Matthew the entire year he could smell the conjuration was clearly his own but there seemed to be traces of someone else's scent on the glass. A foreign entity he couldn't put his finger on.

@Aamon Athanatos and Matthew Campbell began feeling the effects of the warm liquid that resided in their stomachs a warmth that flushed, their faces reddening their cheeks to a bright rosy but despite the liquids sightly off taste they seemed to remain unharmed. A little more gleeful than they had felt previously taking some of the discomfort out of their situation they were free to continue their evening.

As the evening began filling in with more and more Slytherin's the nights events were ready to begin, each snake took a seat perched on the cushions and blankets, or beds for those too noble to take the floor. Having infiltrated the party @Cass Ito, @Nabi Park & @Astra Norrick had found themselves a cosy little window alcove to dwell in anticipation of the events. The lights beginning to dim controlled by @Prat Pass a bright spotlight overtook the central bed that the auditorium had been curved towards marking Colin's stage for all to see. What wisdom would come no one truly knew but it was sure to be a laughable performance either way.

AEIOUSA𝔭rat noticed the brief flash of anger in Harvey's eyes, which was quickly overtaken by a smug smile. He knew that look; it was the same one he often carried when someone tried to bait him into a duel of wits or brawn. The boy's offer to dance was clearly a challenge wrapped in the guise of a friendly gesture, and in a very unrare moment, Prat's own competitive spirit flare up. He had as good dancing skills as you'd expect from someone raised into such pureblood culture. As the Slytherin held out his hand, Prat's thoughts raced. He could see the gears turning in Harvey's mind, he was probably expecting Prat to either fluster or retreat. But Prat was made of stronger stuff. He took a deep breath, his hand hovering just above Harvey's, ready to double down on his own words and show Harvey he couldn't just call out his bluff if he didn't intend to follow through.

Just as he was about to accept his ofer, another presence filled the air, it was none other than Colin, the slytherin broom racer/ball of enery. Prat's eyes widened slightly as he took in Colin's approach and attire. He had seen the boy around school, but they had never really crossed paths where the two could've mingled closesly. The sudden appearance was both surprising and tad bit sad, Prat had lost his chance to mess with Harvery.

Soon enough as the other's mingled Prat's gaze flicked over to another newcomer, a young slytherin, very neatly put together, surely another Pureblood. The eagerness in the first-year's eyes was unmistakable, Prat recognized, or at best assumed he was a first year. Prat took a moment to size him up from afar, before extending him a handshake, firm but not overpowering. He was definitely a first-year; the way he held himself and the sort of innocence that clung to them. "Prat Pass, and you? I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet." he introduced himself, trying to keep his voice steady. Inside, he felt a mix of amusement and annoyance at the constant need for introductions and reassurances, everyone should just know each other's names automatically.

The introduction strangely reminded him of the apple cider in his hands. Which made Prat's grip on his flask tighten slightly. He had yet to take a sip, using it more as a prop than anything else. The alcohol was a symbol of trust, to drink something given by a snake or yet anyone was quite the trial. Something he hadn't quite worked up the nerve or the foolishness to partake in. While he trusted Matt, he wasn't sure if he trusted him enough to drink anything prepared away from his own eyes.

Prat's eyes darted towards the collection of Aamon, Colin and Matthew as their words hung heavy in the air. He felt the tension coil around them, thick and unyielding. Slytherin's were commonly stoic, yet acceptance and belonging were important for everyone, no matter what they were, and now here Matt was, being questioned about the very essence of his identity. It was absurd, really. The idea that someone could be judged solely by their family name and blood was a concept Prat had long ago dismissed as archaic, or one he had never quite found time to discuss in detail. He knew people in life close to him who did not agree with such views and was more than happy to side with them. His grandfather's ideology of pure-blood superiority still resided in his mind from time to time, but he was yet to choose his own path, one that didn't value such concepts.

Before Prat could even form the words to interject and defend his friend, the storm of words between Matthew and Aamon began to abate. He watched as the tension between them dissipated into something softer, something that resembled understanding. As the moment passed Matt and Aamon took a swig from the flask. "Matt, are you good?" he asked, his voice low and filled with genuine concern. "Don't let what Aamon said get to you. He's just... well, he's himself." Prat tried to offer a reassuring smile, hoping to lighten the mood. In his heart, he knew that words once said couldn't be taken back. He patted Matthew on the back, silently willing him to believe that he truly belonged, regardless of what anyone else might say.

As the tension between Matthew and Aamon began to dissolve, Prat contemplated taking a swig from his own flask, one he was still holding off on doing so. The mention of snogging had Prat's mind wandering for a brief moment to the various tales he'd had over the years, but he quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. He knew Colin was there for a lecture on snogging, silently observing the room as he hoped that his friend's lecture would serve as a much-needed distraction from the heavy topic of blood purity that had just began in the dorms.

Prat took a step back and began to dim the lights in the room, The atmosphere grew more intimate, and the music swelled just enough to serve as a gentle backdrop to Colin's supposedly impromptu lecture. As he waited for the Slytherin Wolf to speak.The room grew quieter, all eyes on the silver haired lad as Prat expected him to spin tales of romance and passion, weaving a narrative that was both humorous and surprisingly insightful. Prat's thoughts turned to his own romantic endeavors, or rather, the lack thereof. He had always been more focused on his studies and his friends, but as he looked around thinking about various upcoming events, he wondered if perhaps it was time to explore that part of himself.

For now, though, he was content to stay in the dorms and witness Colin's work of art, or whatever spiel he was about to put out. This would either be super insightful or majorly disturbing, and he would be equally glad to see either routes.