From the Ashes

Who: Spencer and William
When: Mid-morning, December 28th
Where: The library
What: Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff

Movement caught the corner of William's eye, and he turned automatically toward the motion without thinking. The source of the distraction turned out to be Pearce-Parson, a third-year Slytherin (the worst year for that House, or so William had come to be convinced, although it was a close race), who, as William watched, stuffed something - a note? a list? Merlin forbid, a page from a book? - inside the library wall before plugging the gap. The boy looked over his shoulder as he fitted the stone into place, clearly nervous about his subterfuge being discovered, but he was looking in the wrong direction.

William took a step forward to reprimand him, and stopped again, abruptly dizzy. There was something in the way the light fell on that side of the room...too bright, perhaps, the shadows shorter, not quite right. It didn't make any sense, and when William blinked and shook his head to clear it, he opened his eyes to find everything as normal and Pearce-Parson gone.

He took the remaining steps over to the wall and smoothed his hand over the cool stones. This was the spot, he was certain of it. This was the shape of the stone, but when William pried at it with his fingertips, it wasn't even slightly loose. Nor did he remember it being so, or any of the other stones, although he couldn't say he made a habit of checking. Even so, he'd thought he would have noticed.

He tapped his wand around the edges of the stone, chipping at the masonry until it was loose enough to slide free of the wall, mortar crumbling to dust over his shoes and the carpet. Nothing. There was nothing there. No scrap of parchment, not the slightest sign of disturbance beyond what William had caused. He frowned, and looked around again. No sign of Pearce-Parson. William hadn't even known he was here in the library. He must have slipped in while William had been looking for a treatise on magical applications of woad. Strange, that.

Who: Nate, Gerard, William, Jon
When: New Year's Eve
Where: Out on the grounds
What: The hunt

It was freezing outside. Scotland in the dark time between December and January, of course it was. William had a heavy woolen cloak and a warming charm in his winter boots, but even that wasn't enough to cut the cold seeping through his many layers of clothing. He wasn't planning on staying out here long, at least. No more than an hour or two.

Bob's warnings had been frustratingly paradoxical. It would be best to quarantine him away from the students in case anything went wrong, but too dangerous for him to leave the grounds. William had decided on a walk around the outer wall of the castle, footfalls crunching quietly in the snow. It was peaceful out here, and he knew enough charms to avoid frostbite. The moon hung pregnant, full and round in the night sky. He could pick out an abundance of constellations from here, and wished briefly that he'd invited Mikey along for the walk.

It would have been too dangerous, though, if anything went wrong, and too cold, besides. Knowing Mikey, he would have agreed in the spirit of friendship, when he could have been curled up with Spencer in front of a roaring hearth. The potion Gabe had promised to attempt wouldn't be ready for another half-day, at least, so for now William was on his own, walking the grounds outside the castle.

Who: William, Spencer, Mikey
When: Weds 30th Dec
Where: Somewhere about the castle
What: Hey, aren't you usually a little bigger?

Mikey was done with Wednesday.

Two hours ago he had gotten conscientiously out of bed in perfect time for his 9am lesson, trundled all the way through the corridors, tripped on a doorway, splashed coffee on his notes, then found the classroom empty and the only child nearby insisting it was Sunday.

It had been strange, but not necessarily a problem. And really he'd been quite happy to give one glance to the deserted corridors, take the Ravenclaw at her word, and then go back to bed. Getting days mixed up was something he was totally capable of.

No, the real problem was that he'd woken up an hour or so later to an owl from one of his first years wondering why their lesson had been cancelled with no notice. And now, when he left his room, it seemed to definitely be Wednesday. There were children bustling about the hallways, swinging book bags and chatting loudly, and the clock on the second floor was pointing authoritatively to Mittwoch.

Which meant he'd obviously been the victim of a neatly executed prank and his first years - and possibly others - were holed up in a common room somewhere laughing at him.

He sighed, and turned down a less busy corridor to try and concentrate on a suitable punishment. His fingers dragged against the wall and then suddenly he was blinking into sunlight strangely bright for the time of day and his head felt heavy, like he'd been sleeping for too long.