And even the birds have stopped singing...
For when all the world's malice is endured by these handfuls of teenagers, the hush of sorrow settles in.
Carly Wren Davies is her parents' boxing bag and the very reason they need one in the first place...
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THE ENTICING SCENT of imminent heat is already infiltrating the students' senses. Arrangements for the long-awaited school holidays are in full bloom at the castle. The final hand-ins are being submitted, and professors are becoming increasingly unwilling to offer important lectures. Rather, the students are encouraged to experiment and practice what they have learned over the school term.
Students as well as Professors are sprinting through the hallways, from the Great Hall to vary-ing classrooms; from Ravenclaw to Hufflepuff, hunting for misplaced goods.
Carly too occupies her time by preparing for her leave. She digs through a mass of clothing that threatens to swallow her entire bed. Warily, she picks out every single purple item, in search of one specific piece, and stacks them on top of a second pile. During her search, however, she has not touched a single piece of clothing that belongs to herself.
Her roommates, three Hufflepuff girls with whom Carly does not converse much (not that it bothers them), regrettably, do not appear to care on whose bed they spread their belongings. For some inexplicable reason, all Hufflepuff goodwill seems to dissipate when it comes to Carly. She is not asked for permission, nor is she offered any aid.
Carly often takes this to heart and wonders what she has done wrong this time. But she never addresses it. And while she does not necessarily mind the girls using her space, she cannot possibly find her meager possessions beneath all those strange items burying them.
Carly spins, a plea for consideration on her lips. But as soon as her gaze falls onto her roommates, they slide out the door, giggling about something that was said before. The timber snaps into the lock only burst open anew just mere seconds later.
Pansy stumbles inside, her face pinched as she flicks her gaze away from the girls who have scurried past her. "Wow." Her eyes bulge as she surveys the laundry mound. "I had no idea you were so into fashion." Pansy approaches Carly's bedside table and places a mug of steaming tea on it.
Sighing, the Hufflepuff squeezes onto an empty portion of the mattress. "It's not my things, Pansy. I certainly do not own that much."
Pansy frowns.
"All that," her hand indicates the clothing, "belongs to the girls. They needed a little extra space."
"And you're not bothered by that?" wonders Pansy. "They're practically taking up your entire space, Carls."
Carly shakes her head from side to side but instantly adds, "Normally, it indeed does not bother me. Unfortunately, it makes packing a tad more difficult."
"Mmm," Pansy taps her chin in thought. She rounds the bed, studying the strangers' be-longings before whipping out her wand. In a flash, the window shoots open, and all the garments take flight and blast away into the Courtyard.
Carly's jaw scrapes the floor as she stares after the pieces. "Pansy!" she exclaims.
"What?" Pansy spins her wand through her fingers prior to tucking it into her boot and joining Carly on the mattress. "If you don't stick up for yourself, I suppose I'll have to," she shrugs.
