Today’s the day. Or more accurately, tonight’s the night for something epic. Karilyna and I are sitting at the far end of the Thunderbird table, nearest the double doors. I’m trying to force some of my beef stew down, but I’m too full of nerves, too excited to eat. Finally I give up; I can’t wait any longer and push my bowl away from me.

“C’mon, let’s go,” I say to my partner in crime. With a final glance to make sure our blonde target isn’t looking our way—no, she’s chatting with her cluster of friends—we leave for the kitchens. Once there, we slip unnoticed into a large cupboard area and lay out our supplies. Out of the bag of my mom’s with the Undetectable Expansion Charm on it, I produce Karilyna’s art supplies—tubes of paint and a dozen paintbrushes. We pick out the seven largest, organizing all the materials so they’ll be ready to go tonight. The colors disappear back into my bag, seven colors perfect for a rainbow.

I got the idea several days earlier. Miss Doe-Eyes and I had just met a group of third year Thunderbirds and after they left she made a joke about one of them--a blonde-haired girl named Iris. Pretty much just about Iris being the goddess of rainbows. And that's when the fabulous notion of coloring her robes rainbow-colored came up. So we've been planning for about a week, and now, here we are, about to stir up some mischief.

Until midnight when the third years have Astronomy we've got absolutely nothing to do, so we make our way to the Quidditch Pitch, tossing an old Quaffle back and forth from our beat-up, dusty school brooms. I mean, I do have my own broom, but I'm not supposed to have it here and I'm not quite ready to share that bit of information just yet. By the time the sun has disappeared behind the horizon, we're back in our Dormitory. We fake sleep until the other girls are snoring, a precaution so people think we were dozing while things went down. I don't own a watch, so Karilyna comes and taps me at midnight. Scooping up the enchanted bag and my wand, we tip-toe to the 3rd years' room. That's the brilliance of this plan--we won't be breaking a single rule. We're not taking anything and we'll still be in our Dormitory (just not our room). As far as I'm concerned, there's not a single rule about painting someone's robes.

Pressing my ear to their door, I confirm that the room is empty. Once inside our wands illuminate with Lumos, one of the few spells we know. We make our way around the room, trying to figure out which bed is Iris'. Karilyna's the one to spot the nameplate on the trunk. I'm prepared to dig through a mess, but two pairs of Ilvermorny's distasteful blue and cherry robes lie neatly on top. Dragging them out and onto the floor, I set out our materials. With my wand in my off-hand and a paintbrush in the other, I give a nod to my partner and smear a streak of red across the top.

|| Roleplaying as approved dNPC Karilyna Kawahara ||

I can’t hide the grin on my face as I follow Phyllis into a strange dormitory. Overwhelmed, I glance around at the clothes littered messily over the floor. How were we supposed to find Iris’ trunk? Honestly, I hadn’t really gotten to know the blonde third year. She seemed like one of those older girls that were stuck-up and had already formed their own groups. But then, I was “only a first year”, so what did I know?

Phyllis takes my paints out of her magically concealing handbag, gripping her wand in the other. Why she even had such a bag, I would never know. My pranking partner nods to me, mischief sparkling in her eyes. As my friend paints a long streak of red onto the first cloak, I reach for the orange paints and a thick, bristly paintbrush.

“So, what do you know about Iris?” Now that I think about it, I have seen Iris around. She does seem to have some connections, but always looks a little lonely. Perfect target. I swish up and down the robe with long, orange strokes. It’s a little messy, but oh well. I’m not a professional artist, and from the looks of it, neither is Phyllis. I glance at my analog watch as the minutes tick by. When, at long last, Phyllis and I finish turning the first robe into a brilliant spectrum, we lay it out and start on the next one.

Fortunately, our next robe takes much less time—we’re running out of time, as the third years will come back from Astronomy soon. We paint up and down the robe, each long stroke taking us closer to perfection. Finally, painstaking minutes later, we finish. The ugly cherry-blue colors of the robe are covered in a rainbow. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and stand up, happy with our work. “Looks good,” I say, smiling at Phyllis. “How are we going to hide them?”

We work efficiently on the paint job. It’s almost as though we read each other’s minds, as though we’ve pre-determined who paints what, which we haven’t. Sure, it’s not the Mona Lisa, but we don’t have any hiccups.

“Eh, not much. I mean, I’ve seen her around with her group of friends, but that’s about it,” I say in answer to Karilyna’s question. I finish smearing the last bit of violet on the first robe’s hem. We quickly get working on the second, which we finish in double time. I screw that caps back on the paint pots, tie a piece of cloth around the brushes so they don’t make a mess, and toss the materials in my bag.

I think over Karilyna’s question. The stuff we used was this fantastic Muggle invention of fast-drying paint, so the robes aren’t wet. Also, with any luck enough of the paint soaked in so it won’t just peel off. “I think since they’re dry we should put them back in the trunk.” And so we do just that and apart from the color change you can hardly tell the difference. Hey, we’re actually being nice—our trunks are a spewing disaster of robes, socks, and textbooks.

My brown eyes glance at the hand’s of my friend’s watch. 12:52. It’s about time for us to blow this popsicle stand, but I have an irresistible idea. Digging past the robes, I produce an ink pot, a spare quill, and a bit of parchment. In handwriting I purposefully make nothing like my own, I write:


At the end I doodle a little rain cloud. “Hey, Miss Doe-Eyes, you got a signature? Like my raincloud. Just to make it ours while staying anonymous.” I let her do that. The second she’s done, I put the writing utensils back and discard the note in a very noticeable spot atop Iris’ robes, closing the trunk.

With one last sweep of the room with my wand’s light and after I scrub away a mess of green, we leave the room rid of even a scrap of evidence.

I carefully fold up a robe and place it nicely into the trunk at Phyllis’ response. Once I pat them down, just like we left them, I straighten. Satisfied with our work, I help my friend screw the lids back onto the various jars of paint.

As Phyllis grabs a scrap of parchment, I look over her shoulder as she scribbles out a short message in huge loopy lettering. Definitely not her typical handwriting. I choke back a laugh as she finishes her note by alluding to Iris’ name. I’m left wondering about the cloud she draws at the end of the note when she speaks up.

“Hey, Miss Doe-Eyes, you got a signature? Like my raincloud. Just to make it ours while staying anonymous.” Phyllis speaks up. So that’s what her raincloud is. After a quick moment of thought, I answer. “Maybe a sun for me? I like yellow and look innocent…” I trail off, wondering about the verity of that statement. Am I even innocent? “So yeah, a sun. And also, it’ll be funny if our signatures are polar opposites,” I snicker as I realize the difference between our signatures.

And Miss Doe Eyes? That’s my nickname? I need to rethink this. And then I know. If I’m going to be Miss Doe Eyes, Phyllis has to be Freaky Psycho. Or Psycho-not-Psycho. I laugh as I voice my thoughts. “If I’m Miss Doe-Eyes, then you’re gonna be Psycho-not-Psycho, or Psycho.”

I sling Phyllis’ concealing bag over my shoulder as I bend down to pick a splotch of dried red paint off the floor. The sneakiest people leave no evidence. As we turn to leave the room, I glance over my shoulder. Perfect. There’s not a hair out of place as we tiptoe out to the common room. Just as we’re striding leisurely back to our dormitory, a not-so-orderly line of third years enter the room, just arrived from their midnight astronomy class.
Giggling, we walk all the way back to our dorm as quickly as possible and collapse on our beds in twin heaps of giggles. I don’t know about Miss Psycho, but I certainly can’t fall asleep. I cross over to Phyllis’ bed and plop down and we talk and laugh through the night. The biggest question? How will Iris take our prank?

We make it back to our beds just in time for the flood of giggles to break loose. Operation Rainbow was a success—I mean, we passed the third years in the Common Room, but we were just slipping up the stairs so they probably didn’t even see us. The second I hit my blankets I can tell I’m in for a sleepless night. The morning can’t possibly come soon enough. Sure, Iris won’t likely actually wear her pranked robes, but she’ll definitely have noticed by then so her expression should be reward enough. Unless she’s crying. But she’s a Thunderbird for Merlin’s sake so she should be able to take a practical joke.

It appears Miss Doe-Eyes can’t catch a wink either, so she comes over to my bed. She’s looking plenty cheerful, which is great. It means I’ve found myself a pranking partner who won’t back out of a bit of harmless fun. And she’s my friend too, so either way I wouldn’t mind much.

“Psycho-Not-Psycho,” I repeat the nickname she gave me in a hoarse whisper. I have to shove my pillow over my face to muffle a snort. Regaining my composure, I grin at her, trying (and failing) to be quiet so I don’t wake up the other girls. At least they’re deep sleepers.

“You know what I just realized? Rain plus sun equals a rainbow,” and then I have to hide my face again. Hilarious that our ‘signatures’ fed perfectly into the joke. Merlin’s beard, am I extra giggly tonight. I suppose it might have to do with the numbers 1:14 on my friend’s watch.

The night slips away and before we know it, we’re heading down to breakfast, perhaps a little worse for wear but miraculously peppy, spurred on by anticipation of what will happen any minute now. After a quick trip to the bathrooms to wash off our multi-colored hands, we sit rather close to where Iris and her crew usually land, some of the first in the room. Not that that’s unusual—we’re both early risers. My heart is pounding in excitement and gaze fixes on the entrance. Any minute now, Iris will walk through those doors.

Iris was shocked, there wasn't even a word to describe she was feeling. She wore an old, two sizes too small robe. One sleeve was crumpled and torn, looking as a rabid dog had got to it. Large holes from over-use were dotted across the hem of her almost-robe. The sleeves were tight on her arms and the whole outfit seemed out-of-the-ordinary. Wondering why yet? Last night some scheming artists decided to pull a 'fun' prank on her.

I woke up in a tired fashion, late night astronomy had kept me up until well past midnight. I stood up and rummaged through my bag. I yanked my hand away to see a faint blue splotch on my hand. I pulled up at whatever left that mark and saw my clothes had been wreaked. I quickly looked about her room and saw a note upside down beside her trunk.
"Iris— I hope you like the adjustments to your robes.
P.S. If you’re confused go study Greek mythology."
My prized cloaks were wreaked with bright strips of rainbow colors. Someone had painted large rainbow on them. They were going to pay for this. The only thing indicating who did this was a rain-cloud and a sun. How dorky.

She had tried everything she could to get the paint out. It faded some, but the colors were still bright and obnoxious. She washed it again and again. Tonight she would find a way to clean it without ruining her robes. Or she could just ask her parents for more robes.

Of course she knew why they had chosen a rainbow. What was the point though? She endured comments on that all her life. Who could even had done this? People may think that she was 'nice' but she had her stubborn streak. And she wasn't afraid to go against the rules; just as long as she didn't get in trouble. Hopefully they wouldn't realize how shocked she was. Katrina strode into the hall to her regular spot. She attempted to leave her face as placid as she could. No point in giving the painters any glee. She impatiently waited for her friend Aliza to arrive.

Interacting as approved dNPC Iris Fields

@Thora Larkston playing Karilyna Kawahara @Bridget Collins playing Phylicia Stanwood

I'm just finishing my second piece of toast when *BAM* (okay, nothing actually exploded, although it would've been cool if it did). There she is. The woman of the hour, except she doesn't count as a woman yet. And I mean honestly, I'm kinda depressed that she didn't wear the robes. No, instead she's got on the saddest piece of rubbish I've ever seen, also known as some super beat-up robes. What'd she do, hug a thorn bush? Huh, I would've thought she'd wear whatever robes she had on last night, and there's no way she wore those. Maybe the pair she wore were really dirty and she couldn't use them again today. Or she lost them somehow on the short walk back from Astronomy (somehow), or in Phyllis terms the hour of boredom during which I stare at a bunch of black and pretend to listen to what the Professor is saying about the tiny light things. Anyways, perhaps she didn't even have to wear robes and the pathetic thing she's wearing was stuffed to the very bottom of her trunk or something.

I wish she'd at least give some sort of facial expression other than this impassive face that also has these eyes to go with it that look totally triggered. I, for one, would totally play along with a prank like this, but maybe that's a cool thing only Super Phyllis does.

Karilyna's done with her breakfast and I've crammed the last bit of toast in my mouth. We could stay and eavesdrop on Iris' imminent rant to her friends (unless they already did that in their dorm room) but we don't want to look suspicious. I've been told I look naturally look sketchy anyways. It's not like we were trying to start some all-out prank war--she's just some random third year who's name gave us an idea so targeting her was a been-there-done-that sorta deal and now we'll go mess with someone else. Believe me, otherwise I would've made a joke or two about it and totally made it obvious it was us.

So with a nod of agreement, we ditch the Great Hall, heading to out Common Room for a quick game of Gobstones in the half hour we have before History of Magic, the set of which one of the older students let us borrow. And even though that class is even suckier than all the other boring ones (a list that included pretty much all of them), I won't be dying of boredom today. And also, I will never, ever be able to look at rainbows the same.