Penwick

Tara Hartley sat alone at one of the many round tables in the dining hall. She'd let half her roast veggies go cold and the gravy had become an unappetising gleam of congealed fat while the seat beside her remained conspicuously empty.

It wasn't like Iris to be late to anything, least of all to a party. So what is keeping her? Tara wondered.

The third-year Floranti stood up a little in her seat and from her table on the mezzanine scanned the lower hall for any sign of her best friend. Below her, the hall was decked with decorations and many students were feasting and eating and drinking and joking, but there was no sign of familiar dark curls, no sign of the most popular girl in Floranti, no sign of Iris Perkin.

The Dining Hall had been transformed for Halloween. Black garland roses hung like ivy from the stone columns that held up the arched ceiling. Someone had let loose a flock of bats that flew endless figures-of-eight and occasionally screeched and swooped down to steal food from an unsuspecting students.

Not even the bats care I'm here, she thought grimly. She wouldn't have minded if they cleaned her plate, but instead they ignored her like most people did. She should have just stayed in her dormitory to read something and stay out of sight, it would've been better that way.

Sighing, Tara sunk back down in her seat and stared at her half-emptied plate. When they'd left the Floranti dorms together, Iris had only said she'd needed a moment. "Just needa breath of air!" That had been over half an hour ago.

Tara's hands twisted the napkin in her lap. Maybe Iris was angry with her. Maybe this was revenge for something. Yet no matter how hard she tried to think of a reason, she couldn't conceive of one. Iris had always treated her nicely, she wasn't one for petty games not even now that she spent most of her time hanging around with that donkey Marvin.

Bloody Marvin. Out of all the boys that practically threw themselves at her feet, Iris had picked Marvin. He was loud, obnoxious, smelly, and confidently wrong about just about everything he said.

A few more minutes passed contemplating Marvin and yet the seat beside Tara remained empty, like the rest of the table. Tara reached for her satchel, which she'd put on the seat to save the spot like always, but now she moved it back to her lap because her hands needed to hold something. By now she was beginning to feel like the cold bit of chicken on her plate, a leftover which didn't count for very much.

Around her, the feast continued as if nothing was wrong. A group of boisterous fourth-years doubled over with laughter when their pumpkin pasties attempted to scuttle off their plates. Further down the rows of tables, an enchanted skeleton was tap-dancing enthusiastically to a jig it played on its badly tuned violin.

Tara looked over the edge again, her jaw tightening while she stared at the oak door which hadn't opened or closed even once since the feast had started.

Just what on earth was keeping Iris Perkin?

The school year marched on and a noose tightened around Kasimir's neck. He felt confined, caged by the sense of guilt planted by his traitorous conscience and fostered by his mother's letters, which he considered shredding in their envelope as soon as he received them if not for news of his brothers contained within.

He wished for the life of him he could bring himself to skip the feast, to miss dinner entirely and stay in the Unspelled Walk until he couldn't remember the hum of something other in his bones or the way his face wasn't quite natural in it's beauty and how his mother's secret had been passed to him and ruined the life he loved so. But a boy had to eat. An athlete could not starve himself. And so he was bound to return to the hall in the throes of a Halloween celebration with magic in every corner, waiting to spring out at him. Not to mention the swooping bats, the presence of which turned his stomach at the thought of an ill-timed dropping from one straight into his food. Or worse.

Kasimir slammed his tray down in front of the dejected-looking girl with a plate of cold food. "You're alone," he observed aloud, propping his cheek up on his fist. How astute. "In my experience, girls don't like to sit alone much at all. And I do have experience. But, there are always the weird ones, the ugly ones, and the obnoxious ones." He stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. His voice was criminally innocent for the words which he used it to say. "What 'bout you? Weird, ugly, or obnoxious? Weird's including wanting to sit alone, by the way."

He took a moment to examine her. "You're not particularly bad looking. Average, maybe a bit above." He shrugged. "Anyway. My bet's not on ugly. Probably weird. But obnoxious still has favorable odds." Hazel eyes watched expectantly for an answer, cold and far sharper than the rest of his posture and expression.

She jolted when the tray slammed down on the table. The lanky boy offered no explanation other than his observation that she was alone, or had been anyway, as if that justified his intrusion. She looked around, half expecting a small army of snickering henchmen to appear beside the snarling dog of a boy, but there was no one else. In her head she rebuffed him with something just as snide and cutting as the remarks he had made so far, but her courage failed her and all she managed was: "I'm just waiting for my friend..." Not that he had any right to know, but something about his aggressive entrance had demanded an answer and it might just as well be the truth.

The question of why the boy had come to her table was answered when another, much smaller, much more hesitant figure approached it. It's the only empty table...

“Hey Sis! Thanks for waiting for me! I got caught up in the food line.”

Tara didn't recognize the boy in the coat at all, he had to be a first or second-year at the most, judging by the size of him. What was he on about? She gave him a very confused look which didn't seem to dissuade him in the least. Perhaps he got her mixed up with someone else? The commotion was drawing unwanted attention (the only kind of attention if you asked her) and she was trying to think of a reasonable excuse to get up and leave when a soft, long shadow fell over the table.

She had to blink twice before she recognized the tall faun-like creature as Headmistress Pryce wearing a very elaborate enchanted costume, carrying a bowl of sweets. For a stunned second or two her eyes went between the bowl and Ms Pryce's face before Tara regained her composure. "I'm sorry, I've-" she squeezed her way out of her seat and past the youngest Modron, "I've got to look for my friend."

She lingered awkwardly beside the table, clutching her handbag, sensing that with the Headmistress present, a bigger excuse was needed. "She went out to catch a breath, but that was quite a while ago, I think she may have gotten lost." Quick as a flash she fished a sweet from the bowl, then pocketed another for Iris which she put in her handbag. "She's missed the feast so I reckon she must be starving..."

And with that, she shrugged meekly and turned to leave.