Boys' Lavatory

The boy's lavatory was as unassuming as any other public restroom. Located on the fourth floor, with four stalls and four sinks, it was well kept by the school's house-elf staff. To the right upon entry were wooden stalls, their locks simple metal sliders. The toilets within were old-fashioned yet functional, featuring wall-hanging cisterns, chain-pull flushes, and lidded seats carved from sanded oak. On the opposite walls were the sinks, limestone basins scoured clean of calcium, each crowned by a pair of copper knobs (the base of these turned turquoise with corrosion). While there may be a squeaky handle or two, they provided a place to freshen up with pristine water. Stretched above the sinks was a wide mirror. Its glass had grown misty with age around the edges, though the face was swabbed until it shone clear. On the furthest wall was a narrow window, glass mottled so no one could see in nor out, yet translucent enough to let foggy sun filter in. The only other source of light was a single wall sconce, a copper curling structure holding one wax candle. Every time it began to burn low, it was replaced by mysterious means.

The room was perpetually sterilized, plain in design with its dull brick walls and stone tile floor. What brought the loo to life were marks which students left behind. Crude graffiti, initials indicating crushes, and scratches undoing former scribbles littered the stalls. Some scars in the wood commemorated Quidditch wins; others were colorful comments about an opposing House. Clinging to it all was the ever-changing scent of countless colognes from young wizards coming and going.