A Mad Tea Party || Kristian

Late! For Merlin's sake she was late! Little miss Winchester was racing through the halls as she scrambled to get to her class. There wasn't a soul in sight, so she had to be awfully, terribly, horrendously late.

As she, not very gracefully, put the rest of her robes on she skidded down the hall...and kept skidding. Right into a lovely suit of armor with a dull, metal thud. Thankfully she hadn't knocked it over and sent a gaggle of people running out to see her latest clumsy happening, less thankfully though she had cut the palm of her hand wide open. Though it didn't hurt, it certainly looked painful, and was going to leave quite a mess if she didn't do something about it. 

"Oh come on! Really!?" she scolded her hand as she ripped a piece of cloth from her robes and wrapped it. Like hell she had time to get her wand out and mend it now. "I have no time to be bothering with wounded hands or exceedingly rude and misplaced suits of armor!" she shouted at the suit, as if it had personally stepped in front of her, cut open her hand, and laughed. 

Pulling the knot tight with her teeth she stopped at a door. This was the class right? Surely it had to be. She'd gone this way for some reason, it must've been for the class. What class did she have today anyway? Merlin, what day was it even. Oh well, all of that could wait. She was certain that this one, must absolutely be it and, as stealthily as Ezra could manage, creeped in and slid into the first seat.

It was then that she noticed it was rather quiet. Nearly silent in fact. Also...a definitive lack of students. As in it seemed there wasn't a single soul in the classroom. Looking around she came to the realization that not only was she sitting in a completely empty classroom, the wrong one. But that it was Saturday, and Saturday meant she didn't have any classes. So she had woken up, and hauled her ass down there for absolutely nothing but a wounded hand at her own expense.

"Merlin's fluffy beard, are you serious. 'Oh yes miss Winchester, you'll make a fine Ravenclaw. ' Provided you can remember a bloody thing and don't go to imaginary classes on a Saturday!" she slammed her hand on the desk in frustration, which prompted an immediate 'Ow!' and a look of bitter defeat. "Stupid hand..."
Atleast there hadn't been anyone around to see this failure of her morning..