- Messages
- 542
- OOC First Name
- Claire
- Wand
- Straight 12 1/2 Inch Sturdy Vine Wand with Hippogriff Feather Core
- Age
- 8/2027
Despite having spent the Christmas holidays with her loathsome twin cousins, Stella's two weeks off had passed quicker than she could blink. Her Father had been caught up in legal affairs regarding his latest film, and she needed to see him like her lungs needed air. It was ridiculously hard to get kicked out of this place. Save attempted murder, which was a performance Stella had no intention of replicating, there was little the Hufflepuff could do to earn herself anything more serious than a lunchtime detention (or a trip to the school counsellor).
Wracking her brain for new ideas, Stella traipsed down the third floor corridor with an air of resignation. If only she'd been brave enough to do something really drastic, she could have been home by now and long since resumed the career she'd been born to pursue. All of this silly wand waving was giving her a headache. A part of her was still inclined to believe there had been some terrible mistake; she couldn't be a witch - she just wasn't good enough at magic.
At that moment, a cluster of notorious bullies rounded the corner and began heading Stella's way. Quickly she dove through a door to the right and heaved the heavy wood shut behind her with a clunk. She barely noticed she was in the trophy room until the thudding of her heart slowed to its usual pace. Once she was certain the bullies had passed, Stella stepped away from the door and into the space of the room. Most of the plaques and trophies were in cabinets, but some were set out on purple clothed tables for the light to catch. As she passed the rows of glittering silver cups, a plan was beginning to take shape. Stella dropped her satchel to the stone floor and rooted around in it, producing several coloured marker pens and popping off the lids. They weren't commonly seen around the Wizarding school, but perhaps being raised as a muggle had its redemptions after all. Trophies awarded to the ancestors of Stella's bullies were first to be redecorated. A particularly large goblet now sported the words 'S***head of the Century' in bright red ink. Another said 'Smallest D**k of the Year Award'. After a while she moved onto the trophies whose winners she did not recognize, far beyond caring that she might be vandalising the pride and joy of respectable Witches and Wizards. She was so absorbed in her handiwork that she hadn't even realised she was no longer alone.
Wracking her brain for new ideas, Stella traipsed down the third floor corridor with an air of resignation. If only she'd been brave enough to do something really drastic, she could have been home by now and long since resumed the career she'd been born to pursue. All of this silly wand waving was giving her a headache. A part of her was still inclined to believe there had been some terrible mistake; she couldn't be a witch - she just wasn't good enough at magic.
At that moment, a cluster of notorious bullies rounded the corner and began heading Stella's way. Quickly she dove through a door to the right and heaved the heavy wood shut behind her with a clunk. She barely noticed she was in the trophy room until the thudding of her heart slowed to its usual pace. Once she was certain the bullies had passed, Stella stepped away from the door and into the space of the room. Most of the plaques and trophies were in cabinets, but some were set out on purple clothed tables for the light to catch. As she passed the rows of glittering silver cups, a plan was beginning to take shape. Stella dropped her satchel to the stone floor and rooted around in it, producing several coloured marker pens and popping off the lids. They weren't commonly seen around the Wizarding school, but perhaps being raised as a muggle had its redemptions after all. Trophies awarded to the ancestors of Stella's bullies were first to be redecorated. A particularly large goblet now sported the words 'S***head of the Century' in bright red ink. Another said 'Smallest D**k of the Year Award'. After a while she moved onto the trophies whose winners she did not recognize, far beyond caring that she might be vandalising the pride and joy of respectable Witches and Wizards. She was so absorbed in her handiwork that she hadn't even realised she was no longer alone.