From the Ashes

Who: Bob and Mikey, way too many littles, and eventually a Gerard
When: Tuesday afternoon, December 22nd
Where: A secondary kitchen in the lower levels
What: Adventures in baking!

Tying one of the musty-smelling aprons he'd found in a drawer around his waist, Bob tried to work out how the hell Brian had talked him into doing this... insane experiment. Activity. Thing. Bob was pretty sure it had involved Brian talking about keeping the holidays fun for the lower years while plying Bob with firewhiskey. Sneaky bastard.

Oh well, at least Brian had been able to discover this room down the hall from the main kitchens. It was, apparently, a holdover from the archaic times yore when all young witches were required to take a home economics course as a part of their education. Neither Bob nor Brian had been aware of that little tidbit of history before, which was probably a good thing. Apparently the course and room had been so forgotten to memory that not even the occupiers had managed to find the dusty little classroom. "Right, you lot. First things first. All of you must know basic cleaning charms, right? Grab an apron from the bottom left drawers in your stations and start cleaning," he told the students who were milling about the room.

A curly-topped third year started to groan loudly, though he quickly ceased when Bob's eyes snapped onto him. "I wouldn't complain if I were you. Either we clean this room and use it, or we use the main castle kitchens and risk angering the trasgus—as well as the rest of the school if any of you happen to do something to endanger the survival of dinner," Bob told him. The kid muttered an apology and quickly pulled on an apron.

Seriously. This was not in Bob's job description.