Pumped Up Kicks | Open

Friday, July 15, 1921
Dinner Time
♫

June had been absolute shit.

It seemed a recurring theme. Every summer, Benji somehow stumbled into a new way to have his head screwed with, and here he was, trying to play the part of normal. The Hufflepuff wasn't about to unpack the nitty gritty in the middle the feast hall - mostly because he'd rather swallow his wand whole. Instead, he did what he always did when things got too hard to face. He smirked. He joked. He teased. He leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t spent the last three weeks oscillating between wanting to punch a wall and wanting to sleep for twelve years.

If anyone asked, he was grand. Lovely. Peachy. A national treasure, as always.

He poked at his mashed potatoes, stirring them lightly with his fork as hazel eyes slowly raised to the person sitting across from him. There was a devilish gleam behind them, one anyone who knew Benji would recognize as him being up to no good.

His knee bounced underneath the table, energy sparking through him.

Benji smiled to himself, keeping his eyes trained on the person across from him. He lifted the spoon, heavy with mash, tilting it back and forth as though he were weighing his options. Maybe it was juvenile for a boy of fifteen. Maybe it was stupid.

But since when did Benji care about being stupid?

Everyone needed a little fun sometimes, right? A little distraction?

He certainly did.

The boy flicked his wrist, sending the mashed potatoes flying across the table in glorious form. It had been too long since he'd played Quidditch, but his aiming skills were still top notch, splatting against his seatmate's forehead.

The boy grinned wider as their eyes locked, a challenge of sorts. He waited, almost like a cat ready to pounce as his spoon hovered over his mushy peas. "Oh no mate," he quipped, his grin never faltering. "Who would do such a thing?"

---

OOC: Hi friends! This thread is open to all to join! Feel free to be the person who got hit with the potatoes or a bystander! Remember third-person past tense and please ask each other before power-playing! Can't wait to fight yall. ;)

The table was unusually rather quiet at dinnertime. Perhaps they were tired from the events of the day. Fred sat there in his rumpled evening attire, light brown hair askew as usual. A half-finished meal sat in front of him. Sitting still and stewing in memories was an odd moment for Fred. Yet here he was, already in the second week of camp, his father apparently having held no interest in seeing him over the summer.

He picked apart his chicken absently as he daydreamed of home, mind filling with ideas of all the things he could be doing. Running through the hills again, being in the countryside he called home again instead of the dank castle. Riding a sheep? Now that would be a good one. But his father definitely wouldn’t appreciate it, being as sheep are actually quite fragile. Maybe a wild Exmoor pony…

Splat! The young boy was abruptly brought out of his sheepy plots by the impact of something gooey on his forehead. What? He lifted his hand to his forehead as whatever it was slid down his face. Fred stuck his tongue out and tasted it curiously. Mashed potatoes? Where had they come from?

As his green eyes locked with the hazel ones of the older boy across from him that glowed with trouble, there was a momentary look of shock on his face. Any previous thoughts immediately disappeared. Did someone just start a food fight? With him? His face quickly broke out into a similar smile to the one across from him and he glanced around, mind alight with mischief. Until his gaze landed on the spoon the other boy held, hovering over a bowl of, look at that, mashed peas. Just right!

“Causing trouble, aye then?” As he said it, Fred leaned across the table, snatching the bowl of mashed peas in front of the other boy then leaped to a standing position on the bench and turned it over on top of his head. He wanted a food fight? Take that for one! “You’re on!”

---

OOC: Permission to snatch the bowl from Amber

Two weeks, that had to be some kind of record. It had only taken two weeks before Mater had sent the girls to the dreaded Summer Camp. Between school and now this Tulip had no idea why she even called it home she was hardly ever there. This time Mater had been in a steaming mood since they'd returned from the train, of course she was part of the reason, numerous owls over the year, failing several classes and her report from DADA being absolutely shocking, not that Mater cared that their teacher was trying to teach them the dark arts, all of that ignoring the fact she had made the honours list once, ironically for DADA, she was sure that was some mistake and the teacher had gotten the wrong Asquith (Rose was convinced of this too). Then on top of her poor grades and attitude Rose had been caught with 9 separate boys, Briar got caught trying to poison house elves and Poppy well, she got caught trying to light the prefects bathroom on fire after one refuse to help her friend when an older boy was mean to them. Then added to this the usual arguments that ensued, usually from Rose about how awful her younger sisters were, every time they mentioned their older sister Clover her mother vanished with a headache. So now the four middle Asquith sisters were at the Summer camp. Rose was forbidden from speaking to boys, Briar was not to touch anyone else's food, anything venomous or poisonous, Poppy had to be 10 foot away from anything flammable. And Tulip she had to keep her mouth shut. That was ridiculous, Tulip had no intention of ever not saying what was on her mind.

Food in the feast hall was a lot plainer than home, the noise level was about the same, and the table manners were significantly better. Tulip was wondering where Briar and Poppy were, she had seen Rose who had refused to sit with her reprobate sisters. Better to be known as a reprobate than a slapper, had been Tulip's retort... under her breath of course.

Tulip poked at her food, mash, really in the middle of summer. If it had to be potatoes at least they could be new, boiled and with a hint of mint. She stabbed it a couple of times hitting giant looking lumps.

"Oh no mate," "Who would do such a thing?"

She heard a familiar voice, Benji a fellow fourth year but a Hufflepuff, Tulip rolled her eyes, throwing food, had it reached that point already? She hoped not. It was too warn to drop badly mashed spuds on each other. Although the temptation to upend numerous bowls of food on that smug Hufflepuff was tempting.

She was about say something when one of the younger Gryffindors suddenly jumped on the table and dumped a bowl of food on Benji's head, part of her wanted to applaud the Gryffindor, but she feared where this would take them all.

"I swear it's like living in a zoo with you lot." She called over at the table the boys sat at. "I know camp is an exceptionally dull punishment but come on chaps, food goes in ones mouth." she drawled at them both. They'd only all get punished for this and she for one didn't want dish duty.

The sound of food hitting Freddie in the face drew Morgan’s attention. Green eyes locked onto the boy’s forehead, which was covered in mashed potatoes. She grinned, her eyes then traveled over to her other friend. When she first met Benji, years ago now, the summer before she entered Hogwarts for the first time, they had met in a situation similar to this one.

They’d had a food fight. And had gotten in loads of trouble for it, too. She didn’t care though.

"Oh no mate. Who would do such a thing?"

She looked over at her fellow Gryffindor, wondering how the boy would respond. Morgan knew she’d be up and shoving a whole chicken in his face if she had been the target, but she wasn’t. So, strangely, the girl sat there until Freddie finally reacted.

“Causing trouble, aye then?”

Morgan smirked, looking back at Benji, her brow raised. But then Freddie stood up on the bench with a bowl of peas he had spent lots of time mashing. He then tripped the entire bowl over Benji’s head.

Morgan giggled, covering her mouth with her hand for a second.

"I swear it's like living in a zoo with you lot. I know camp is an exceptionally dull punishment but come on chaps, food goes in ones mouth."

“Hey, Tulip! Watch out!” Morgan yelled, now to her feet. She had her entire plate in her hands. She used her left hand to grab a handful of her chicken-pea-mash mix she’d created and threw it in the older girl’s direction.

“FOOD FIGHT!” she screamed, already moving on to her next target without knowing if she’d had good aim or not.

---

OOC: Feel free to be her next target, or get hit by mistake!

It was a weird start to summer. The time between school and arriving at the facility, Tilly had spent a boring month in Sweden doing nothing. Literally nothing. There were days spent in the garden, reading stories in a hammock in the woods behind the house, there had been more than a few naps and many days spent cooking.

It was bliss.

After the events of last summer, Bram and Tilly decided on a chill start to the summer vacation. When it came time to leave for the Facility, she was honestly ready for some adventure.

The first couple weeks had been fun, spending time with friends without the trappings of school work and responsibilities was exactly what she needed. Tilly arrived at the dining hall ready for dinner.

Hair braided down her back, a knee length skirt showing off her green leafy scar, a sleeveless emerald green shirt and sandals, she was embracing the warmer weather. Entering the room, she was assaulted with the sights and smells on display. Finding Benji, Tilly joined him at his table just as he flicked mashed potatoes at the boy across the table.

“Benji, really? Can’t I eat something before you start causing trouble?” The answer to that question was no. Her housemate, Fred was the lucky recipient to the mashed potato missile, whether he wanted it or not.

Fred leaned forward, grabbing a bowl of food in front of Benji. “Causing trouble, aye then? You’re on!”

Well shit, Tilly started moving away from Benji, not wanting to be hit by default. Getting food out of her hair was a bitch.

"I swear it's like living in a zoo with you lot. I know camp is an exceptionally dull punishment but come on chaps, food goes in ones mouth." Tilly laughed, at Tulip and was just about to comment when the dulcet tones of Morgan rang through the hall. “FOOD FIGHT!”

And then all hell broke lose. “Morgan, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Was all she got out before a roll bounced off her head. Dry, not messy, she would take it.

Getting up from her place at the table, Tilly bent down to hide under the table, but just before she got fully underneath pumpkin juice was turned over her head by an idiotic Ravenclaw 2nd year.

He would die today.

“DAMNIT THOMAS, You’ll pay for that!” She felt her hand sink into the mushy peas, acting on instinct and adrenaline. Pulling her arm back, she let the green peas fly, hitting Thomas and a few others in nearby seats. Well, sucks to be them.

---

Feel free to be hit by the mushy peas!

Percy had barely sat down before he knew something was brewing.

Benji had That Look...the one Percy had learned to spot from three tables away. Hazel eyes glinting, mischief practically vibrating off him, knee bouncing like he’d swallowed a dozen billywigs. Percy didn’t need Legilimency to know his mate was seconds from trouble. He’d seen Benji pull pranks with that exact expression since they were eleven.

Still, Percy smiled into his pumpkin juice. After the month Benji’d had? The year Percy had had... Maybe a bit of silliness wouldn’t hurt either of them.

But then the mashed potatoes flew.

SPLAT.

Right onto a startled younger Gryffindor’s forehead.

Percy choked on his juice, snorting a laugh so hard it burned his nose. “Benji, what...?”

Before he could finish, the kid launched himself to his feet like a spring-loaded banshee and dumped peas onto Benji’s head.

Percy slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. Oh Merlin. Oh no. Oh yes.

Then Tulip chimed in. Then, Morgan threw food at Tulip. Then someone shouted, “FOOD FIGHT!”

And that was that.

Percy felt the fizz of excitement spark right up his spine. He was supposed to be growing up, figuring himself out, acting more mature or...whatever, but right now? None of that mattered. He was fifteen. It was summer. His friend was covered in peas. The whole hall was exploding into chaos.

He looked at Benji—peas dripping down his curls, an unhinged grin plastered on his face—and something warm twisted in Percy’s chest. Affection. Loyalty. That stupid flutter he kept pretending was indigestion.

“Oh, this is happening,” Percy muttered, standing up so fast his bench scraped against the floor, letting out a loud screech.

He scooped a double handful of mash and gravy, ignoring how cold it felt, and launched it like a catapult toward Thomas (who absolutely deserved it for soaking Tilly in pumpkin juice). It splattered wonderfully. Percy whooped.

Then—because he couldn’t help himself—he grabbed a roll, dipped it in pumpkin juice, and lobbed it at Benji with theatrical precision.

“For luck!” Percy shouted over the chaos, grinning wide.

And just like that, he was in the thick of it—laughing, dodging flying peas, and absolutely, unquestionably at Benji’s side. As always.

“Benji, really? Can’t I eat something before you start causing trouble?”

No.

There was nothing Benji enjoyed more than someone who gave as good as he did. If there was anything the boy admired, it was people who rose to the occasion when challenged. The Gryffindor kid's grin mirrored his own, a moment of stillness falling over the table as all eyes suddenly trained on Fred, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Causing trouble, aye then?”

When wasn't he? He spoon still hovered precariously over the peas, glancing only sideways at Percy with a wry grin when he heard his laugh. Percy knew him well. He had witnessed every one of Benji’s crimes since first year and knew this face meant imminent destruction.

He'd let himself get distracted.

In the split second Benji had turned his smile to Percy, Fred had snatched his peas and ceremoniously dumped them over his head. The boy crowed as he stood up on the bench, signaling that he was game and there was no turning back now.

"I swear it's like living in a zoo with you lot."

Tulip, the forever wet mop was whinging, as though she was the one with potatoes on her face or peas in her hair. He could rectify that for her. As green mush slid from his sandy-brown strands and down his temple and cheeks, he scooped it into his fingers.

Chaos erupted.

“FOOD FIGHT!”

Morgan could always be counted on. They were lucky she wasn't wielding a sack of rocks.

There went her entire plate of food, sailing in Tulip's direction as Benji turned and flung the peas back at Fred. Matilda was already beneath the table, screaming vengeance over her pumpkin juice drowning. Benji took a soaked bread roll to the side of the head so hard he briefly saw Merlin.

“For luck!”

Luck, eh? This was better than he could have hoped for.

The boy shot up from the table, ducking behind Morgan as he and reached blindly across the table for whatever weapon destiny provided. He didn’t even check whose plate it was. Moral high ground had left the station. Benji's hand closed around a mound of bright red jelly - just begging to be utilized.

He grinned. He flung. Directly at Tulip's face.

Food and drink was flying in every direction, screams and hollers indecipherable now amongst the noise. A chocolate pudding sat off to the wayside, and Benji snatched it, throwing half at Percy and the other half at Fred. He bent down quickly to grin at Ging.

"Come out, come out Ging," he nearly sang, his smile widening deviously. "Or I'll drag you out myself and baptize you in chicken gravy."

One of the girls, Tulip, commented about being in a zoo. Fred snickered and one thought did briefly pass through his mind wondering where all the animals were.

When Morgan yelled, all hell broke loose.

Screams and things flying everywhere, Fred was having the time of his life! He snorted as a roll bounced off Matilda’s head.

“Lighten up there! It’s a food fight!” People were supposed to be hit with food in a food fight!

Only a few minutes after the fight had started, the table was now a mess. So were the people at it, for that matter. His hair was pea green now (mixed with a dollop of gravy), almost the same colour as his eyes. Clumps of potatoes and soggy rolls were in various stages clinging to his clothing.

Benji, the one who had initiated the fight, mentioned something about baptizing someone in chicken gravy that sent Fred into an uncontrollable laughing fit at the version in his imagination. The image gave him such a fit of laughter that he was soon bending over and clutching his stomach. Imagine dunking someone into a gigantic bowl of gravy like a drumstick!

BAM! Half a chocolate pudding hit him square in the middle of his skull. Flung straight from the hand of the one he had just been thinking about. That Hufflepuff boy was a great shot! Apparently, standing on a bench during a food fight gave people an easy target. Who would have thought of that? Definitely not Fred!

What next? His green eyes darted around and ideas whipped through his mind for half a second until one translated into action. Duck and roll. Well, try to roll, anyways.

Fred dove onto the table, sliding through the mix of mashed potatoes and peas as if it were a puddle of water in grass (he had slid down many frosted hills in his time). The gravy and spilled pumpkin juice really did help.

Grabbing wildly around, Fred stuffed a few rolls into his mouth and pockets. It was rolling time! He rolled himself across the table wildly, aided by the slick surface. His plan worked perfectly! That is, until something sharp caught his shirt.

Ouch! Who decided to put a fork there? Well, now was as good a time as any to start fighting again!

“Oi, FIRE IN THE HOLE!!”

Fred swung a barrage of rolls at Benji and Percival, then swung around and stuck his hand into a bowl of custard and lobed it in Morgan’s direction.

Shaking with unconfined laughter, the boy flattened himself against the table amid the piles of mashed food. He was certain this was a much better place to be.

Things it seemed had decided to escalate very quickly, in a way that was both hilarious and messy. It seemed the pent up energies shared by pretty much all the Hogwart's students since before Easter break. Things had happened but no one spoke of it, and in fairness what would people say if they did. Tulip hadn't been affected by it, aside from having the Diracrawl she'd found removed from her pocession, which had sucked.

“Hey, Tulip! Watch out!”

Tulip looked up as Morgan launched a handful of something at her years of Quidditch had sharpened her reflexes and the minute she saw something heading in her direction she ducked, what ever the goo in Morgan's hand was narrowly missed her and went soaring behind her slamming into her sister Rose's face. The older Slytherin let out a scream and glared at the mayhem erupting at the table.

"Fucking Gryffindors!" she yelled standing up and trying to wipe off the goo before storming out.

Tulip couldn't help but laugh at this, "Nice shot Morgan!" she called to the younger girl.

Then came the words every teen longed to hear "FOOD FIGHT!" Tulip had no idea where it came from but it was it where they were there was no getting out of this.

"Morgan, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

She heard Tilly exclaim loudly. Oh so it had been Morgan who had called for a food fight, that made a lot of sense. By the sounds of it she wasn't the only one who just wanted to eat her food in peace. Whilst Tulip played duck random flying food, Tilly had the idea to hide under the table until someone poured squash on her.

“DAMNIT THOMAS, You’ll pay for that!”

Tulip was caught in the some of the peas that rebounded off Thomas, "She is absolutly going to kill you Thomas, sleep with one eye open" Tulip warned between giggles.

Before she could do anything else a bread roll hit her in the face catching her in the eye. That smarted, "Oi! Benji you Dipshit" she called.

"Come out, come out Ging," "Or I'll drag you out myself and baptize you in chicken gravy."

Tulip looked at Tilly "Allow me....." she said picking up her tables gravy boat and throwing it and the gravy in it at Benji.

“Morgan, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Green eyes found her redheaded friend and she laughed as she watched the roll bounce off her forehead. She then watched the girl duck under the table. Morgan, who was already moving on to something else, then looked over in Tulip’s direction. The girl wasn’t wearing the concoction she’d thrown at her, however her sister was.

"Nice shot Morgan!"

Morgan grinned, pleased that even though her aim had been off (clearly because of no Quidditch… god she missed Quidditch), she still managed to piss someone off. That was a clear sign that she was doing something right, even though her dad would probably be royally angry at her.

Oh well. He wasn’t there.

Without her father’s eyes on her, or even those damn paintings at Hogwarts that snitched on her all the time, Morgan felt less restricted in what she could do. He wasn’t here. He wouldn’t know. She could let loose.

Benji ducked behind her, and Morgan almost shoved her plate in his face, but didn’t. Instead, she turned just in time to see the bowl of custard coming right at her. She’d spotted his laughter before he vanished.

She didn’t duck, didn’t have time, just turned her head so it was the back of her head that got covered in the stuff. That was gross.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now, Freddie!” Morgan yelled, spotting another plate nearby. She grabbed a handful of – well, she didn’t really know what it was supposed to be, or had been at one time.

No, at this point it was just goo. As she turned to look for the younger boy who had successfully hit her with the dessert, she didn’t see him because he was practically buried by the food on the table. So she turned her attention back to Matilda. She’d get Frederick back later.

“Oh, Tilly!” Morgan called out in a sing-song voice, moving towards the table she’d seen her friend hide under.

Things had devolved rather quickly. Peas were flying, rolls were being lobbed like grenades in a war, chocolate pudding was now being worn by Fred and Percy. Tilly tossed a few chunks here and there, but hadn’t gotten fully into the fight… yet.

"Come out, come out Ging," Benji sang. "Or I'll drag you out myself and baptize you in chicken gravy." Oh the hell he would. She loved Benji, but she wouldn’t hesitate to murder him in his sleep. Or in her sleep. In her dreams. Yep, she would murder him in her dreams.

Which was a lot less dramatic. Oh well.

“Benji Roseann, I will not hesitate to…” She lost her train of thought as Fred went sailing by on the table like a baseball player sliding into home. Less food fight, more food bath.

“Oi, FIRE IN THE HOLE!!”

The rolls were being tossed at multiple targets now, all the while Tilly laughed. Thankfully, Tulip had her back and decided that Benji needed a gravy shower, "Allow me....." was all she said before tossing it at Benji.

The smile on her face wouldn’t leave, even with mashed potatoes and diced carrots sticking to her hair. Tilly peeked out from under the table, looking for something to toss, when a glint caught her eye. They had tipped over in the mayhem, but would be perfect to help the others shower off. Grabbing the two bottles of butterbeer, Tilly popped the tops and plugged the hole with her thumbs.

“Oh, Tilly!” She heard Morgan say in a sing-song voice. A wicked smile took over the Lion’s face as she started shaking her hands vigorously, she could feel the pressure building under her thumbs, and at just the right moment she pulled them away spraying Tulip, Benji, Fred, Morgan, Percy and a few innocent bi-standers in foamy butterbeer. A fair amount sprayed her as well, but in all the chaos she didn’t care.

“Here, have a shower, you’re all so dirty!” She laughed, spraying her friends down more with the sticky drink.

Food was flying so fast and furiously that all Benji could do was grin in triumph.

No, he wasn't one of the younger years anymore, but a distraction like this from the noise in his head was exactly what the Hufflepuff had needed. Later, he'd go find his girlfriend for a snog, and distract himself another way.

It was glorious to see really, the chaos, the mess, the excitement on everyone's face. That kid Fred was flying across the table like he was skidding into home base, Morgan had custard dripping down her head and -

The gravy was warm, covering his hair and dripping down his back into his shirt. His mouth fell open as he caught Tulip's eye, surprised that for once the girl actually joined in on something fun. "Now you're in for it!" he called, scooping up a handful of pie - he wasn't sure what kind - and rushing to smush it directly into her face.

Matilda had somehow found her inner rebel.

“Here, have a shower, you’re all so dirty!”

It was the last spray he was going to be able to tolerate. The butterbeer sprayed everywhere, covering every surface in sticky sweetness, and the boy could feel his own shirt gluing itself to him. Luckily just in time as one of the the volunteers had come rushing into the hall.

"Oi, snitches are about! Leg it!" Without waiting for anyone else, the boy dove out of the way of a flying sausage, flinging the last bit of pie on his hand in Fred's direction and rushed for the door to make his getaway.

Percy didn’t even know what he was anymore.

He was definitely mostly pudding. And mashed potato. And something warm and sticky that smelled suspiciously like butterbeer. His hair was slicked back with gravy, and he could feel custard dripping down the back of his collar. He blinked hard, trying to clear chocolate pudding out of his eyelashes just in time to see Fred sliding across the table like a deranged toboggan.

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!!”

Rolls were coming in hot.

One smacked into Percy’s shoulder, another exploded near Benji’s ear, and Percy just lost it — doubled over laughing as he grabbed a fistful of peas and lobbed them blindly toward Thomas.

If they hit the Ravenclaw. Probably.

Worth it.

Then the butterbeer happened.

Sweet, fizzy, and suddenly everywhere.

Percy sputtered, staggering back as his soaked shirt clung to him like a second skin. He wiped his face with his sleeve and finally caught sight of Benji— dripping in gravy, eyes bright, absolutely unhinged with laughter.

Merlin.

Percy didn’t even think about it. He stepped closer, grabbed the collar of Benji’s sticky shirt, and grinned.

“Worth it,” he said, breathless and warm and grinning like an idiot.

Then—

“Oi, snitches are about! Leg it!”

Volunteers.

Authorities.

The Fun Police.

Panic and delight shot through Percy at the same time. He grabbed a butter-slick bench for balance, then lunged after Benji, not even bothering to wipe the pudding off his face.

He snatched one last handful of mash and, because tradition mattered, flung it at Fred on Benji’s way out.

“For the memories!” Percy yelled over the chaos.

He ran, boots skidding on spilled gravy, heart pounding, laughter still shaking through his chest as he chased after Benji toward the doors.

Sticky. Breathless. Alive.

And for the first time in what felt like a while, not thinking about much of anything at all.

Just running beside his friend.

Morgan’s eyes caught Tilly’s, and the younger of the two grinned. Matilda had a couple bottles of butterbeer and she was shaking them, with her fingers in the necks. She was going to spray them. Morgan loved butterbeer, so she wasn’t too bothered. She was already a mess, so how much worse would getting sprayed by the fizzy drink be?

Laughing, Morgan held her hands up in her face, but also licked her lips to get any that hit her mouth off. Why waste it, afterall?

“Here, have a shower, you’re all so dirty!”

“Oh, you –”

"Oi, snitches are about! Leg it!"

Benji’s voice cut Morgan off. Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched him take off, Percy close behind him. Flashes of her dad’s disappointed expression filled her brain – when she knocked out that older kid with a bag of rocks her first year, or when one of her housemates tried to make her fly because she told him to.

That second one was the worst because she’d gotten hurt. But for that split second that she was in the air, it was the best decision she ever made. It was just too bad that her friend didn’t have much control over his magic, and ended up first hitting her on the ceiling before dropping her to the floor.

Maddox would hear about this, she wasn’t stupid. But really? Morgan hadn’t hurt anyone, and she hadn’t been hurt. From the stories she heard about her mum and dad when they were students, she was sure they would have joined in when they were younger. Well, her dad would have. Her mum would have… probably looked on with disdain.

A pang as she thought about her mum who had died two years ago. But she quickly pushed those thoughts away. Her hair was sticky, her shirt was sticking to her, and she was sure she smelt like a mess.

Morgan quickly grabbed the two people closest in proximity to her – Tilly and Freddie. “Run!” she screamed, and pulled them with her as she ran as fast as she could after the boys.

powerplays approved

Fred’s huge grin would have widened if possible as a few of the rolls he had thrown hit their mark.

He snickered again as the custard he had thrown at Morgan hit her in the back of the head.

“Gotcha! Ha! You got got!” He announced as Morgan responded with her own yell. When she didn’t throw anything back, Fred assumed his, well, “hiding spot” had worked well enough. Super! His triumphant yell, however, was soon interrupted by Tilly’s voice.

Did she mention a shower? Fred hated showers!

“I don’t need a sh-” His protest was interrupted by a stream of cold butterbeer drenching him and the rest of the students in the area. The sticky liquid freed most of the food clumps that were pasted to him. He stuck his tongue out and tentatively tasted the pea-mash-and-butterbeer mixture that was now melting off him. Not bad!

The boy’s hair stuck up in strange directions. He was completely unaware of this fact, but he would likely not have cared at all. The adrenaline from the fight still ran through him as fiercely as when the fight started.

When Benji’s voice broke through the chaos yelling about snitches, Fred immediately leaped off the table. His feet landed in a puddle of the butterbeer and he had to grab the bench to stop himself from skidding facefirst into the floor. Yikes! This was slippery! His green eyes darted around, looking for whoever these snitches were.

Cherry filling suddenly filled his mouth. Someone had thrown a pie at him? Who was it? They were going to get it back at them! Fred wiped the pie out of his eyes and glanced around trying to see who was guilty of the action, but it was too chaotic to tell.

Fred felt a sharp tug on his arm. He squinted through the haze of people scrambling around to get away. Morgan’s face appeared in his vision, pulling him and Tilly towards the exit.

“Why’re we leaving? I bet we can take em! I bet we’re more than the whole lot of em!” Fred rambled on as he trotted by Morgan’s side, a mixture of gravy, custard, and butterbeer dripping from his clothes onto the floor as they went. “I bet if we put the food fight on them they’d join the fun!”