Who: Michael Corner, Terry Boot, any other Ravenclaw who wants in. What: Shooting the breeze with some mates (and enemies). Oh and Michael poisons tomorrow's meat serving for the Purebloods. Where: Ravenclaw Commons. When: October 24th, 1997. After Dinner. Rating: PG-13. Status: Open.
Michael's stomach rumbled a little in his gut, his unsatisfying day of meals letting itself be known- as if Michael didn't know that already. He ignored it. So they were feeding the Purebloods well, were they? Well well. Michael hoped they ate all they could get. He'd warn the few Purebloods he cared about in due time tomorrow- say, five minutes before dinner? But the rest could learn a little lesson in humility. Eat too much, and you will get a stomach ache. And massive nausea. Vomiting. All sorts of maladies. Maybe even hives.
The raven-haired boy tickled the pear in the portrait near the kitchen door, and then slipped inside. He could feel the itch in his pocket of a small vial. Here was the catch. Michael Corner didn't look like Michael Corner. It was a damned good thing that girls often drew longish hair. Long hair often meant split ends, or damaged strands. It broke off. It landed on backs. It stuck to robes and sweaters. It stuck to Pansy Parkinson. This wasn't rocket science.
Michael worked it- intensely. This was the second time he'd been a woman since the school's opening for the year, and somehow this one had far more purpose to it. He felt the tickle of time on his mind- he knew he only had so long until the Polyjuice wore off, particularly since it wasn't a full-burnt dose. He had to be quick. He popped a grape off a fresh bundle and tilted her head at it, then suckled it. Michael looked about as unimpressed and bored as possible. He even sighed heavily as he ventured over to a large series of raw beef that would be spitted and slow-cooked in the hours to come. Perfect. Michale pulled out the little bottle and hid it in his small, well-manicured palm.
The House Elves eyed the girl with a mixture of curiosity and terror. With a poignant stare and sneer from her, most returned to work. Michael fake-jerked at the rest, who clanged pans in surprise and hurriedly moved about. Michael moved quickly. He opened the vial and poured some of the thick liquid into his hand. Then he touched the meat with a cursory, curious sort of way, inspecting it with a bitten lip and sultry glance. "Elf." Michael finally demanded in a near-impersonation of Pansy (actually he sounded more like Daphne), "Reserve this one for myself." And he patted it with her demure fingers, potion and all. The Elf bowed deeply and cringed away.
Michael!Pansy smiled with all the evil, demure malice married to glee that he could and turned around to leave the Kitchens. Once out, s/he quickly ventured towards the North Tower to await the change in private, where he'd stashed a spare uniform. Once changed, he ventured back to the Ravenclaw Commons to meet Terry and Anthony. He frowned a little- Lisa, he was now fairly certain, was avoiding her. He'd heard that she was in the hospital wing secondhand, too late to visit her. He was irritated- why didn't she let him know herself? It felt like she was keeping secrets from him on top of it now. He hadn't known about the detention, though if he hadn't been so hung up on his plot, he might have noticed. Still... send a memo.