Woes Within the Walls Closed Finished

"That noise is always here," came a voice from behind Aurelia, gravelly yet carrying a girlish lilt. The unexpected sound broke the silence of the dimly lit, abandoned bathroom. A rickety stall door stood closed but groaned ominously as if forewarning what came next.

A sharp bang reverberated through the room, as if the Hufflepuff needed yet another scare, the door flew open, kicked violently outward by a booted foot. The perpetrator revealed herself—a small, wiry girl perched atop the toilet lid like some mischievous crow. Beth's frame was slight, frail even, and she couldn't have stood taller than 4'8". Yet her posture was anything but delicate, as she sat with knees bent and legs spread, utterly indifferent to the fact she was wearing a skirt. Mud smeared her knees, though she made no effort to hide them.

Beth's dark brown eyes, sharp and probing, studied Aurelia with an unsettling intensity. A stray raven-black strand of hair fell across her face, which she puffed away with a practiced motion. The faint glow from the grime-covered window barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to notice the scattered mess around the girl: a crumpled pile of used matches, ash smudges, and what might once have been a Potions textbook. Its pages had been ruthlessly torn out, some refolded into curious shapes, others burned entirely. It was an insult to any librarian.

The girl sniffed loudly, wiping her reddened nose on the sleeve of her Slytherin robes, a gesture as unapologetic as the rest of her demeanor. Hopping down from her perch, she landed lightly on the grimy floor, now standing just in front of Aurelia. Though she was much shorter, her stance carried an air of cocky confidence, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"If you're planning to make this your bunking spot," she began, her tone casual but tinged with condescension, "you better get used to it. The ghosts mess with you more if you’re all jumpy like that." Her head tilted to one side as her gaze flicked up and down, taking in Aurelia’s Hufflepuff robes with thinly veiled amusement.

"Never thought I'd see a Hufflepuff trying to bunk here, though," she added with a smirk, the words laced with as much teasing incredulity as cockney air. "Did you get lost on your way to the greenhouse or something?"

The mud on her knees cracked and flaked with every small movement, but Beth seemed as indifferent to her dishevelled state as she was to the grime of the bathroom itself. There was something feral about her presence—an untamed energy that didn’t quite match the green-and-silver badge pinned to her robes. She wasn’t the type of Slytherin one would expect: no polished airs, no biting sophistication. Instead, she was scrappy, rough around the edges, like a street cat too stubborn to be tamed.

DECEMBER 1 | TIME: 15:50 | INTERACTING WITH: @Beth Merryweather

Aurelia Valentine flinched from the resounding bang of a cubicle door being kicked open, her hand instinctively flying towards her wand tucked between her messy bun. Her brown eyes widened when she saw the spectacle in front of her.

A Slytherin girl, First Year like her, stood before her; her Slytherin robes are crinkled like they hadn't gotten the chance to meet a hot iron since the beginning of its creation. The girl’s knees were caked with dry mud, and her confident gestures and behaviour didn’t match the stereotypical Slytherin that it should embody. Stereotypes, of course, are a shallow idea to base a person with; her nose wrinkled slightly, involuntarily smoothing down her Hufflepuff robes.

“Bunking spot...?” Aurelia repeated the girl’s words incredulously. The young Hufflepuff witch looked around the abandoned toilets, as if to convey that whoever chose this dirty place as their bunking spot must be mad or bonkers. But then again, this girl is here. This Slytherin girl might've been in that old, dirty cubicle the whole time ever since she entered the abandoned toilets, hiding from that ghost in the Second Floor corridors.

“What made you think that I came from the greenhouse? Is it just because I'm a Hufflepuff?” Aurelia replied haughtily, slinging her leather satchel over her shoulder securely before crossing her arms. The piercing gaze of the Slytherin girl penetrated through her very being, which didn't sit right with her. But still, she gave the girl the benefit of the doubt.

When a reverberating wail echoed within the walls again, accompanied by aggressive vibration of the pipes, Aurelia remembered her reasoning for entering this place where tetanus and infection festered heavily and almost visibly, to her opinion. The young Hufflepuff witch gave the Slytherin girl a quick look over before answering her question. “I came from the Great Hall. There's an event there happening, conjured by prefects. Then I wandered in the Second Floor, where a wretched prankster of a ghost most frequented—which I forgot—then I hid here, once the portraits warned me,” Aurelia huffed in one breath, looking away from the Slytherin girl, now conscious of her puffy and reddened eyes.

OOC: please, mention me so I could be notified of your reply! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Beth Merryweather~~@Aurelia Valentine

Beth stood back, her arms crossed as she watched Aurelia, who was clearly more than a little frazzled. It was a mix of the chaotic surroundings and the way she carried herself—so prim, so proper. To Beth, Aurelia was the embodiment of a goody-two-shoes. That pristine leather satchel she clung to like a lifeline said it all. It was spotless, polished, and probably organized down to the last quill. Beth’s own bag, in stark contrast, looked like it had been through a war. It sagged under the weight of loose parchments, cracked potion vials, and mysterious stains that told stories she wasn’t about to explain.

Beth leaned forward, balancing on her toes with the grace of someone who knew how to be just the right amount of annoying. She bent at the waist, peering up at Aurelia, her cheeky cheshire cat grin spreading wide as she relished the sight of the other girl squirming under her gaze. She tilted her head, letting her hair fall just so, a casual confidence radiating from her every move.

"I’m just pulling your leg," Beth said with a sly chuckle, reaching out to tug the hem of Aurelia’s perfectly pressed robes. The gesture was light, teasing, but enough to make someone step back just a fraction. Beth straightened up again, planting her hands firmly on her hips as if she owned the moment. Her head cocked to the side, her gaze assessing, like she was deciding whether or not to push further. "No need to get so het up."

She would’ve left it at that, satisfied with the little jabs, but then Beth noticed something she hadn’t before. Aurelia’s eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, told a story that stopped Beth in her tracks. The smirk vanished from her face, replaced by something more curious, though her tone remained sharp. A quick tut escaped her lips, and before she knew it, she was marching right up to Aurelia, her steps loud and purposeful, almost aggressive.

To anyone watching, it might have seemed like Beth was about to throw a punch, but instead, she stopped just short of Aurelia’s face, her sharp eyes analyzing every tear-streaked freckle. Her hand moved instinctively, ready to grab Aurelia by the chin and turn her face toward her, but she froze mid-action. Beth glanced down at her own hands, coated in dried mud and who-knows-what from her earlier misadventures.

"Ugh, fine," she muttered under her breath, reaching instead for her wand, a discrete moment of reluctant thoughtfulness for the Hufflepuff. With a quick flick, she tapped it gently against Aurelia’s cheek, guiding her head to the side. "That," Beth said, her tone firm and clinical as she pointed to the tear-streaked skin, "is exactly why the ghosts pick on you." There was no warmth in her voice, no attempt at comfort. If anything, it was as though she were stating an undeniable truth, one that Aurelia was just going to have to live with.

Satisfied with her inspection, Beth turned on her heel and made her way to the sink. She hopped up onto the edge with an ease born of practice, her legs swinging carelessly beneath her as she twirled her wand between her fingers. Her sharp eyes flicked from Aurelia to the polished wood of her wand, scrutinizing its balance and feel, as though the scene she’d just caused was nothing out of the ordinary.

"So," she said finally, her tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather, "what’s got you all blubbery, then?"

OOC: Super sorry!!! Not used to these forums yet, please let me know if I do anything else wrong xoxo

DECEMBER 1 | TIME: 15:50 | INTERACTING WITH: @Beth Merryweather

Aurelia Valentine is beyond bewildered. Silence enveloped them in the mossy abandoned toilets as the Slytherin girl gave her a scrutinising look. First of all, the Hufflepuff witch didn't like it when someone—a stranger, no less—occupied her personal space. Aurelia didn't fancy to be touched, scrutinised, or even looked at. The prospect of this girl already concocting a perception, an impression of her, disturbed Aurelia deeply.

Aurelia detests the prospect of being perceived. This is why she didn't try to make friends with anyone in her House. It was a form of narcissism, a sort of self-importance that made her repel everyone and also made her hate herself.

Her eyes never left the Slytherin girl, especially when the girl hopped on one of the grimiest sinks she had never believed to be capable of being filthy. Her nose crinkled slightly; the Hufflepuff witch half-expected the sink to give in to her weight, but thankfully, it didn't. Thankfully? She should hope that the sink will crumble beneath the girl's weight and see what happens with her confidence. Aurelia internalised the extreme dislike she felt for the girl, her eyes also observing the girl's expression. Unfortunately, it didn't give anything, unless you'd count the behaviour she was exhibiting. This girl chatter on like they were all chummy.

“For your information, that ghost picked on everyone. It just so happens that I also frequented the Second Floor corridors because of the club meetings I attend every day,” Aurelia replied contemptuously, taking a step back to maintain a reasonable distance between them and not letting the Slytherin girl walk up to her confidently like she did earlier. Watch her do it, and she'll meet the business end of her black walnut wand. “Besides, me being all blubbery—the way you put it, honestly, not true at all—is none of your business. I don't know your name, plus we are not friends.”

Aurelia eyed her warily.

OOC: You're good! You write so well; you caught Aurelia’s description more definitively!

Beth Merryweather~~@Aurelia Valentine

Beth raised her eyebrows, a sly smirk creeping back onto her face as she twirled her wand lazily between her fingers, the polished wood slipping easily through her practiced hands. She let the silence stretch, long enough to border on awkward but never tipping over the edge, clearly unfazed by Aurelia’s cold tone and sharp words. In fact, she seemed to savor the tension, like it was some kind of game.

Her head tilted to the side, and her dark eyes sparkled with that unmistakable glint of mischief as she took Aurelia in, top to bottom, as though trying to unravel her with just a look. “You know what, sure,” Beth began, her voice light but threaded with a teasing edge. “Maybe the ghosts pick on everyone. That’s fair. But they don’t stick to everyone, do they? Oh no, they’ve got a nose for people who…” She paused, tapping the tip of her wand against her chin in mock thought “… let’s say, radiate a certain vibe. And you, ” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “are practically glowing with it.”

The words hung in the air, playful yet pointed, as Beth hopped down from the sink with practiced ease, landing lightly on her feet. She didn’t stop moving, as though standing still was physically impossible. Wand in hand, she made her way to the grime-encrusted window, its panes fogged with what looked like centuries of neglect. With the tip of her wand, she began scraping idly at the mysterious gunk, half-focused on the task and half on the conversation.

It wasn’t entirely clear if Beth’s restless energy was deliberate or just part of her nature, but if one thing was obvious, it was that she thrived on chaos—thrived on not caring, on shocking people, on pushing buttons. And if her movements and demeanor hinted at a deeper reason for her antics, Beth wasn’t about to acknowledge it. Hogwarts might have a potion for every ailment, but diagnosing ADHD probably wasn’t on their syllabus.

“Not friends?” Beth repeated, the words slipping out in her cockney accent, rough and casual. Her lips twitched into another smirk. “You don't seem like you’ve got many of those, though, do you?” The way she said it was almost disarming, as if it wasn’t cruel, just a blunt observation. Well, game knew game and Beth was in the same boat, except for the complete opposite personality problem. She met Aurelia’s gaze then, her expression teetering between sharp and teasing. A chuckle bubbled out before she added, “If you wanted my name, you could’ve just asked for it, Blubs.”

The nickname rolled off her tongue effortlessly, unapologetic and entirely Beth. She stepped forward then, extending a hand that was unapologetically smeared with mud and some unidentifiable stain, clearly expecting Aurelia to take it. “Beth Merryweather,” she declared proudly. “First-year Slytherin.” Her tone was light, but there was a hint of defiance in the way she said it, as if daring Aurelia to make something of it.

Before Aurelia could respond, Beth leaned in slightly, her smirk widening as she lowered her voice, mimicking Aurelia’s prim and proper accent with an exaggerated flourish. “How do you do?” she asked, the words dripping with playful mockery. And then, as if the joke was entirely for her own amusement, Beth pulled back, her hand still outstretched.

DECEMBER 1st | TIME: 15:54 | INTERACTING WITH: @Beth Merryweather

Aurelia Valentine took a step back when Beth hopped down from the grimy sink, the Slytherin witch resorting to scraping the moss and muck that collected over the window panes with her polished wand. This girl clearly has a serious short attention span; even while she distractedly rakes the dirt from the window panes, she was also tilting idly, back and forth, with the balls of her feet. Aurelia's eyes squinted, predominantly processing the girl's words. Certain vibe? What does that even mean?

“Whatever do you mean by that?” Aurelia asked; her voice sounded high-pitched more than she would like. “I do not give off a certain vibe. You're just blabbering for the sake of it.” Aurelia continued haughtily, her chin held up high, emitting an air of self-importance as she crossed her arms. If the Hufflepuff witch was intrigued by the sparkle of her brown eyes and the teasing grin that decorated the girl's lips, she didn't show it.

However, as the Slytherin witch was distracted on scraping the moss and grime—in Aurelia's honest opinion, dirtying herself with whatever bacteria that homes the abandoned toilets—the Hufflepuff witch glanced at the cubicle where the girl appeared in. A broken pile of used matches littered the mossy, wet floors; smudges of ash decorated the grimy, wooden walls of the cubicle; and a worn Magical Drafts and Potions textbook. It was torn from its binding and its pages are folded to indescribable origami shapes. Aurelia turned to the Slytherin girl with a quirk of an eyebrow. What has she been doing in that cubicle?Aurelia store her books neatly in her dormitory room and here is this girl, tearing books to bits.

“Not friends? You don't seem like you’ve got many of those, though, do you?” The Slytherin witch had said with a smirk, which made Aurelia huff in indignation. Before she could even reply, the girl made another remark and called her Blubs. The Hufflepuff's face crinkled in revulsion of the nickname. This is probably why Aurelia distances herself from other people, as they construct nonsense such as this. Another wail reverberated within the walls and the pipes, from whoever that came from, perhaps a ghost.

Her foot instinctively stepped back as the girl stepped forward, the steps resounding through the walls along with droplets from the filthy sinks. Her eyes widened when she extended an equally grimy hand—no different from these abandoned toilets, perhaps—and declared her name proudly. Beth Merryweather, the Slytherin girl's name was. Aurelia eyed down Beth's extended hand with a slight sense of abhorrence, her nose crinkling faintly. But she felt her face heating up, as no one extended their hand to her before, except for the adults that her mum introduced to her; those people are also her mum's friends or co-worker.

This is only just decency, Aurelia thought, her face flushed. Mum did not raise an uncivil and disrespectful child.

“Aurelia,” Aurelia took Beth's extended hand hesitantly, trying to keep a straight face as she felt the texture of crusted mud in the Slytherin witch's palm as she shook it firmly and importantly. “Aurelia Valentine. Now, for clarification, I have so many friends. They are probably searching for me right now around the castle. Secondly, I will burn your house down if you call me Blubs again. I don't want it long-term. Not that I'm saying that this is going to be long-term; of course, I don't suggest that. We are not friends; of course, this is necessary to be laid down on the table. This is for being civilised and accepting terms that both of us are no different than any other students and should embody house unity. See, I'm in Hufflepuff and you're from Slytherin, this is already good publicity for unity. Again, I'm not suggesting that we're friends—” Aurelia blabbered on. On how she said that in one breath, no one knows. This is probably because of fear of being interrupted and underestimated. Of course, Aurelia fabricated a thing or two—about having friends—but Beth Merryweather does not have to know that.

Beth let out a loud laugh, one that bounced off the grimy, cracked tiles and echoed through the dilapidated room. The sound startled a nearby spider into retreating deeper into its web, as though even it couldn’t handle the sheer audacity of her amusement. She leaned back, clutching her stomach like Aurelia’s words had physically winded her, shaking her head as if to say, You’ve absolutely made my day, Valentine. When she finally straightened up, her smirk had shifted into something almost playful, though the gleam in her dark eyes betrayed a lingering mischief that promised trouble.

“Right, unity,” she repeated, still catching her breath as she twirled her wand absently between her fingers. The word dripped from her tongue as if it were laced with honey and vinegar. “Lovely little concept, that. Makes you sound like you’re organising a school-wide bake sale. Very Hufflepuff of you.” She arched a brow for emphasis, her voice thick with sarcasm, before she added, with an appraising look that flickered over Aurelia, “And friends? Course. Loads of them. Deeefinitely out there scouring the castle as we speak. Probably tearing up the Great Hall, knocking over suits of armour, maybe even enlisting Peeves for backup. You’re clearly the talk of the school.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned lazily against the sink, her posture the very picture of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. Aurelia’s reaction, stiff and indignant, only seemed to fuel Beth’s energy. She was utterly, obscenely intrigued by the girl. Prim, proper types usually bored Beth out of her skull, but there was something about Aurelia’s haughty defensiveness that caught her attention. It wasn’t just the uptight airs—no, there was bite behind the polished exterior. And that bite? That made Aurelia fun.

She dared to shake Beth's hand for Christ sake, and Beth couldn't even tell you where its been.

Beth’s gaze wandered to the cubicle Aurelia had been so pointedly eyeing earlier. Her smirk deepened as she lazily gestured toward the carnage of burnt matches and mangled book pages littering the floor. “In case you’re wondering,” she said dryly, “yes, I’ve already been told that’s a 'disgrace to magical literature'. The thing is…” She paused, flicking her wand toward the mess as if it were all part of some grand artistic statement. “Disgrace happens to be highly entertaining. You should give it a go sometime."

She sniffed, a small, deliberate noise as she straightened just enough to flick a piece of moss from her sleeve, her expression a mask of faux sophistication. Her tone shifted to mock politeness, dripping with an insincerity so thick it was almost impressive. “But please, don’t let me interrupt. Do go on. Tell me more about how you’re definitely not blubbery and are absolutely the most popular girl in school. It’s riveting, honestly. I’m on the edge of my seat.”

She let the silence stretch just long enough to make it clear she was revelling in every second of this exchange. Then, with the kind of casual drawl that only someone as cheeky as Beth could muster, she added, “And, just so we’re clear, Valentine, you’re more than welcome to storm off whenever you like. Honestly, wouldn’t blame you. But judging by the fact you’re still here, I reckon it’s one of two things. Either you love the smell of mildew and stale piss, or…” She tilted her head, her smirk tilting with it, as though she were letting Aurelia in on some great inside joke. “You just can’t resist the charm.”

OOC: Thank you so much for telling me how to embed images!! Now my posts can almost be as cute as yours<3

DECEMBER 1 | TIME: 15:56 | INTERACTING WITH: @Beth Merryweather

Aurelia Valentine eventually stopped blabbering when Beth Merryweather almost doubled over as she chortled heartily, the sound reverberating blaringly than the wails of the ghost that resided within the pipes. The Hufflepuff witch quirked an eyebrow, unappreciative of the interruption as she tapped her foot on the mossy floor impatiently.

“I don't appreciate the sarcasm, thank you very much,” Aurelia retorted with a scoff, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. The Hufflepuff witch made a point of rubbing her palm on her skirt—the one she shook Beth's hand with— to remove the crusty mud or whatever dirt she left in her palm, hopefully. She didn't dare to ask Beth on wherever her hands had been, because whatever information withheld wouldn't kill you. In this case, knowing where the Slytherin girl's hands had been would definitely kill Aurelia. Even if she dip that hand in the grimy toilet, played with the murkiest toilet water, it's okay as long as Aurelia didn't know or she'd projectile vomit, she swears to Merlin.

Aurelia had never seen someone with a wicked sense of humour or a twisted set of mind like her. She seems like the type of person who doesn't give a hippogriff dung about other's perception of her, whether it's good or bad. The Hufflepuff witch eyed her warily as she crossed her arms, observing the Slytherin girl's expressions and behaviour. Beth is clearly laid-back; probably produced by a very permissive upbringing and household. If her mother saw Aurelia act like this, she would've smacked that cockney accent and unmannered bearings out of her system.

When Beth gestured at the mangled copy of the Magical Drafts and Potions with her wand, making a remark about how disgrace is entertaining, Aurelia only quirked an eyebrow. Just like their opposing personalities, they are also entitled with their opposing opinions. This Hufflepuff witch clearly encompasses self-importance, therefore embarrassing oneself is out of these filthy, grimy windows. Aurelia upholds her reputation very dearly; being seen as disgraceful or embarrassment will damage her ego and pride. Such a shallow thing to be worried about, and yet, she does.

Aurelia only sighed exasperatedly when Beth continued her sarcastic comments. Her eyebrows creased when she mentioned that she probably couldn't resist the charm. The charm of what? The charm of being in the middle of clear infestation? The charm of tetanus, the charm of dying of an incurable sickness, choking in your death bed? Where is the charm? She even stayed away from the Great Lake as its murky waters is downright questionable. This Slytherin girl is right, why is she even staying here? The Hufflepuff witch didn't remember any open cuts or wounds, but in a place like this, infection is a risk!

“You know what? You're right. I'd rather die in a more explicable death than risk my life here,” Aurelia replied haughtily, her chin tilted high as if she was awarded with a Special Services trophy. She whirled around, her footsteps making a clacking sound as she headed towards the door. Even this door is grimy. She grimaced. “I'll see you around, Merryweather. If ever you need a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, I'm willing to lend you my copy as long as you promise to take good care of it.” Aurelia looked back, gauging her expression before reaching for the door.

OOC: I recommend searching for beautiful dividers! I got mine from Tumblr. I would gladly help you search but I don't know your preference. It would reduce unnecessary manual embedding multiple images for dividers. Just owl me if you have more questions!

Beth clicked her tongue at the dramatic whirl and the sharp clacking of footsteps echoing against the grimy floor as Aurelia made her hasty exit. A smirk tugged at her lips as she rolled her big brown doe eyes, watching the retreating figure with a mixture of mild amusement and maybe a flash of exasperation, though Beth would ardently deny it if pointed out. Her attention shifted briefly to the ashen remains of her thoroughly mangled Magical Drafts and Potions. With a nonchalant shrug, she scooped up the pitiful scraps and shoved them into her even sadder-looking satchel. The poor bag had clearly seen better days.

Maybe it'll rise from the ashes like some sort of.... phoenix-book, she amused herself with the thought, though she wasn’t holding her breath. The other, more likely option was that she simply didn’t care enough to bother with it—sentimental value only went so far when dealing with, in Beth's opinion, old person jibber-jabber.

Though it didn’t take an A* in potions—or even a passing grade, frankly—to figure out why Aurelia had bolted so quickly. Some people just weren’t built for grime and chaos, and the pristine Hufflepuff was definitely one of them.

"Act as bloody haughty as you like," Beth called after her, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. She reached up to fix her perpetually messy ponytail, tugging at the elastic until it tightened. It only looked marginally neater, but Beth didn’t care. "But you're not scared anymore, are you? Not blubbering, Blubs."

She shot the nickname at Aurelia with a smirk, a knowing look in her eyes. Though, the wink she added wasn’t mocking this time—it was subtle, almost conspiratorial like she was saying, I knew you’d be fine.

Beth watched Aurelia pause briefly at the door, probably grimacing at the grime-covered handle. She could only imagine her words had landed and with that thought, she turned her attention back to the sad, scorched remains of her book, already plotting the next time she could push Aurelia’s buttons. After all, it wasn’t every day Beth found a distraction from the ghosts, too.