Maja certainly hadn’t come to Hogwarts with costume parties in mind, but with a little Transfiguration she had managed to achieve something passable. She’d already had the jacket. And the hat. And it was possible that she had been overly fascinated with Lena Jakobsen as a child, but the woman had kept knives in her high heels, for fuck’s sake, it was hard not to be intrigued.
Coming up with a costume had been relatively quick work, but it had taken her longer than she cared to admit to find the armory. She had asked directions from a rather inebriated portrait; she wasn’t sure if it was the fault of the portrait (and the painted alcohol it had been imbibing) or the constantly moving stairs, but she had somehow ended up in the dungeons twice, where she had been leered at by an ugly ghost (also twice; however, she thought, he was unlikely to do any leering in the near future). She was quite sure she was in the right place now, though; the raucous laughter bellowing from the door was a giveaway, as was the young man in the sparkly fairy wings peering anxiously around the hallway.
He seemed to recognize her, but she didn’t recognize him. At least, she was pretty sure they hadn’t met – it was a little hard to tell under all the glitter. “That’s right,” she said. “And you are…?”