More trouble...
Nicky never saw herself as a coward but she couldn't help shivering a little when she crept up to the headmaster's office in the late hours of the night. She had enjoyed her little prank with Addie the last time and she wanted to repeat it, even though Addie wouldn't be with her this time, seeing that they drifted apart quite a bit with Nicky so engrossed in her studies and duelling practice that she never got to hang out with her old friends anymore. That was part of the reason she wanted to do this. She had almost forgotten how to have actual fun and needed to feel that kind of joy again. And she had an absolutely magnificent prank up her sleeve. She levitated a bucket of vanilla cream that she had brought with her to the ceiling and hung it above the headmaster's office door. Now the first person to come in or out would be doused in the sweet white substance.
With a satisfied smile, Nicky took a step back from the door, admiring her work, and tiptoed away from the office. She had to get to the dormitory as fast as possible because she was not supposed to be out after curfew and it was already very late. She imagined how she would tell Addie and the rest about this and grinned. This was going to be so much fun. It's a pity she couldn't stay and watch to see who fell into her little trap.
With a satisfied smile, Nicky took a step back from the door, admiring her work, and tiptoed away from the office. She had to get to the dormitory as fast as possible because she was not supposed to be out after curfew and it was already very late. She imagined how she would tell Addie and the rest about this and grinned. This was going to be so much fun. It's a pity she couldn't stay and watch to see who fell into her little trap.
Nicky
More trouble...
@Elsa Veronica Bennett
Oh you really do need to work on your methods. Indeed, the door left now ajar would keep the bucket of stale, room temperature, likely souring cream aloft. Balance, a door frame, etcetera. There was only one issue to consider: how in Pendle Hill did she think she was getting out of this room? The doors open inward, the topmost edge of the door almost ten feet above the ground considering part giants also traversed these thresholds. How was that bucket being held up? How was it ever put in place if she was on the outside of the room?
The answer was, she was not. It would be in defiance of the laws of physics and a reflection of *pardon* shit-poor luck on the part of the girl. So how did she leave the office if not through the door. He would cringe- she took a step through the door. A victim of her own prank, he made no attempt to 'save' the deviant damsel from the mess of her own making. The sour milk that would pour from the burdened bucket that she had procured from who-knows where? A house elves closet or the stables he speculated.
He had stopped moving from the moment she entered. He preferred the gloominess of night and the safety that the darkness afforded him. So he did not make his presence known, but she was also not hiding. He was just sitting there, in the Headmaster's chair, behind his desk. He had stopped rifling through the drawers long enough to watch this show play out before him. To sit there in wonder, no fascination over the inanity of it all. "Why didn't you prank yourself someplace a bit closer to a wash room?"
Oh you really do need to work on your methods. Indeed, the door left now ajar would keep the bucket of stale, room temperature, likely souring cream aloft. Balance, a door frame, etcetera. There was only one issue to consider: how in Pendle Hill did she think she was getting out of this room? The doors open inward, the topmost edge of the door almost ten feet above the ground considering part giants also traversed these thresholds. How was that bucket being held up? How was it ever put in place if she was on the outside of the room?
The answer was, she was not. It would be in defiance of the laws of physics and a reflection of *pardon* shit-poor luck on the part of the girl. So how did she leave the office if not through the door. He would cringe- she took a step through the door. A victim of her own prank, he made no attempt to 'save' the deviant damsel from the mess of her own making. The sour milk that would pour from the burdened bucket that she had procured from who-knows where? A house elves closet or the stables he speculated.
He had stopped moving from the moment she entered. He preferred the gloominess of night and the safety that the darkness afforded him. So he did not make his presence known, but she was also not hiding. He was just sitting there, in the Headmaster's chair, behind his desk. He had stopped rifling through the drawers long enough to watch this show play out before him. To sit there in wonder, no fascination over the inanity of it all. "Why didn't you prank yourself someplace a bit closer to a wash room?"
Aamon