| Details for Burns Night Feast |
| Summary: | The students gather for a traditional Burns Night Feast celebration where Angus pipes the haggis in and Pringle addresses it. |
| Date: | 1939-01-25 |
| Location: | Great Hall, Hogwarts |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Entry Hall
The marble beginnng of the staircases leading upwards into the castle face the heavy oak doors that lead outside across a flagged stone expanse that could fit an average house. Looking up, one can see the staircases shifting from one landing to the next, on up into the shadows making it difficult to tell just how high the Entrance Hall really is. The torches in the walls do little to pierce the dimness overhead, but cast light on the suits of armor flanking the front doors and the many doors spaced at odd intervals leading to the Great Hall, Slytherin Dungeons, Staff quarters, and even a broom closet.
Perhaps the thing of greatest interest in this entry though, at least to the students, are the four large hourglasses housed in niches on one of the walls opposite the doors. One filled with sapphires, one with emeralds, one with rubies, and the last with topaz, these hourglasses keep track of the all important House points. The gems in the bottom half represent the points earned so far by houses Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
Angus is wrestling with a set of bagpipes, "Och, I'm _sure_ I ken hoo tae play them just braw. I had whit… twa lessons fives years ago. Hoo hard can ut be?" He's speaking to nobody in particular. He has a formal kilt on, and a look of _total_ concentration as he tries to remember the best way to play.
Adam, unfamiliar with this particular celebration, is still dressed in his school robes as he walks into the entrance hall. Upon seeing Angus with his kilt and bagpipes, he becomes curious and wanders over to him. "What's going on?" he asks before he realizes that the boy is trying to concentrate.
Just to amuse her favourite Scot the Slytherin Queen has worn her ridiculous fascinator along with her silver frock. She comes up from the dungeon and catches sight of Angus and his pipes. "Can you play?" She grins as she walks over to him. "Och ye are a braw wee Loon in that kilt, Angus Macmillan." A glance goes to Adam, a rather cool glance. "It is Burns Day, a holiday in Scotland."
Angus gives the Slytherette a grin, "Och… Well, Ah had a _few_ lessons. Hoo hard can it be? It'll be like fallin' off a broom!"
Adam smiles at Medusa when she walks over, but hesitates upon seeing the look she gives him. "Oh," he says. "What's it about?" He looks at Angus and his bagpipes and can't help but grin. "But anyone can fall off a broom! Is it really that easy? How do you play?"
Medusa looks at the bagpipes with wide eyes, she really has no idea what it will take to make them sound good. "Douglas said I sound like one of your sisters when I speak Doric." She snorts a laugh when Adam explains how easy it is to fall off a broom. "It's about…about Scots culture and tradition." Or at least as far as she know. "How do you play the pipes?"
Angus starts blowing into the resevoir, and the drones start up. The bag is inflating, under his elbow, which then squeezes the bag to keep the 'music' started.
A collection of students are gathering. Angus is in Kilt, with bagpipes just warming up for a deafening drone.
"That explains the kilt and the bagpipes," Adam says. He watches as Angus starts to play, but instantly claps his hands over his ears at the first sound, think it an errant note. But then, realizing his mistake, he looks embarrassed and takes them away.
Lucretia arrives, drawn by the sound of the bagpipes. There's some commotion in the Great Hall as she leaves it, but none of it anything to do with her, one would assume.
Medusa looks pleased when Angus seems to get it right. "Well done!" She too is dressed up, but in a fancy frock and heels rather than a kilt. Leaning over she kisses his puffed up cheek, leaving a lipstick imprint. "Douglas will be pleased."
Angus is enkilted, 'playing' the bagpipes. A melody starts to accompany the drones, his fingers moving on the chanter. Although the kiss does throw him momentarily. And he hasn't realised about the lipstick mark of course, nor will he until he checks a mirror, unless someone takes pity on him.
Arriving from the direction of the kitchen passage, Ilsa enters with a brooch held in her arms. She runs her fingers absentmindedly over its surface as she scans the surroundings, curiosity having drawn her here. "What's the occasion?" she asks aloud to no one in particular.
Adam looks over to Lucretia when he notices her and gives her a tentative wave and smile. But when he turns back to Angus, he makes a face when he sees the lipstick mark Medusa leaves on the boy's cheek. "You've…" he says, gesturing to his own cheek. "You've got something. Right here."
Lucretia has heard the bagpipes played a few times now, and she does well not to wince when the occasional duff note gets found. Finding herself standing quite near to Medusa, she clasps her hands behind her back and speaks quietly so as not to disturb Angus' playing. "He's not too bad. I heard that the bagpipes are one of the hardest instruments play. Apparently its like trying to rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time. You look nice, by the way. Are you going out somewhere?"
Which is the point the cook emerges from the Kitchen corridor, carrying… um… SOMETHING… on a huge silver platter. It's… well, about the size and colour of a bludger, or perhaps a little larger, with small lighter coloured flecks within it. It's also steaming. And giving off a faint smell which some might associate with Fire Whisky. Angus takes a fresh breath, and blows some more into the bag. It's not like he can stop piping to wipe his cheek. Instead he moves to give room for the Chef to pass before him, clearly with the aim of falling in step behind him, to accompany the… whatever it is… into the Great Hall.
"It's Burns Night," says Medusa with some annoyance. As if she had always paid attention to Scots holidays and culture. She steps back as the elf chef comes through, seeming to be a bit amused by it all despite what seems to be Angus' serious demeanor.
Levi enters from the way of his common room he's exchanged his normal clothes for his newer ones at least and fixed up his hair and the like. The sixth year will follow the sound of the bagpies before coming to find there origin though he should know by now as he remembers his pace quickens. He pauses a moment spotting the group before he will approach after a moment "Good evening." he will say sort of in general.
Ilsa brightens at Medusa's explanation, oblivious to any annoyance her ignorance of the holiday might have sparked. "Oh, I guess it is that time again, isn't it?" she remarks in that dreamy way of hers. She swiftly side-steps out of the cook's way, waiting to file along behind those following the bagpipes.
Adam turns to watch the procession from the kitchens, his eyes wide. Feeling out of place in this ceremony, he moves over to stand with Levi, who he recognizes as being in the same House as him. "Hello," he says with a smile. "There's some sort of Scottish thing going on."
Medusa looks around, there is someone missing. Someone who she expects to turn up judging by her demeanor. "Oh hello Lucretia," she says to her younger housemate seeing her arrive.
Lucretia seems not at all abashed by her question to Medusa. At her testy explanation to Ilsa as to what's going on, she gives a quick nod of her head. "Burns Night. Of course." There's a glance to Angus and she sends a smile his way, even if he's likely to not notice it, engrossed as he is in finding the right notes and in leading the procession into the Great Hall. "Angus did mention to me about this, but with everything that's gone on today it clean went out of my head. Do you think I should run and change? I'd hate to miss anything though, and I probably would if I did that."
Reaching up Medusa removes her fascinator and sets it atop Lucretia's head. "There, now you're dressed up." The silver and black concotion clearly matched Medusa's dress. She smiles as she looks up and spots the person she was looking for. "Go follow Angus, I can see Douglas lingering near the dungeons. He must want something. I'll see you later."
And so the procession goes through
Lucretia grins. "You're letting me wear this?" There's a huge smile given Medusa before Lu turns and hurries to follow Angus.
Great Hall
Braziers that hang by chains from the beaks of griffin gargoyles that line the walls where they meet the high vaulted enchanted ceiling offer warm illuminating blazes. Four long tables are evenly spaced with the heads of the table at the north and south of the room. Each table has a cloth runner down the center and a plush rug underneath of the different House colors indicating to which house the table belongs.
The most westerly table is the Slytherin table. Beside them is the Ravenclaw table. The Gryffindor table is then between the Ravenclaw table to the west and the Hufflepuff table which is the most easterly table. One other table along the northern wall up on a dais for the Professors to sit at and look over all four of the other tables. Also on the dais is one lectern gilded in gold with an owl spreading it's wings at the top of the lectern. Candles line the tops of the owl's wings to illuminate anyone speaking at the lectern. A stool like protrusion comes out of the lectern as well as that's where the first years sit when they are sorted.
There are three sets of doors in the Great Hall. The main exit and entrance that leads to the Entry Hall is a large set of double wooden doors carved with vines and flanked by high stone pedestals each set with a small brazier above the stony 'H' carved in the pedestal. On the eastern wall is a much smaller door just next to the dais that's attached to the antechamber the first years come up from the lake through. Lastly one other door is set into the northwest corner behind the High Table.
As always high above within the obscured stone and wood cathedral like buttresses and crockets the outside weather is reflected in an illusion with all the sound and visuals of the weather, just without the actual effects of it.
A house elf chef enters, carrying a massive silver platter on which sits something the size and colour (more or less) of a bludger, giving off savory steam, with a faint hint of Fire Whisky. Angus is marching behind it, with a lurid lipstick mark on one cheek, and bagpipes blaring out.
Lucretia follows Angus, the young witch having apparently just made it out to the hall in time to have Medusa fasten a black and silver fascinator into her hair so that she were at least a little dressed up for the festive feast.
Anthony sinks lower in his seat at the Ravenclaw table. "Oh God…. " he mutters, "Burns 'nicht'." It's said with a faint air of disinfection around the word. "Should have eaten the early version of dinner, and made a run for it."
Ilsa steps into the great hall alongside the others, curiosity prompting her to follow. Noting Levi and Adam among the crowd and recognizing them as fellow Hufflepuffs, she begins to wind her way toward them.
Adam follows Levi into the Great Hall, watching the procession ahead of them. He smiles at Ilsa when she approaches them, lifting his hand in a quick wave to her, though he still seems lost in this unfamiliar celebration.
The Haggis is ceremoniously placed on the High Table before the Teachers, and the elf withdraws, its moment in the spotlight completed. Angus, complete with lipstick mark finishes the tune he's playing, and then steps back, towards the Gryffyndor table.
Lucretia finds herself a spot at the Slytherin table. Elbowing her way in amongst several of her fellow third years, she spares a smile in Angus' direction and even turns towards him, clapping both him and the haggis. "I wonder who will address the haggis!" she says excitedly to her fellow classmates, caught up in the excitement of the moment. "Don't you just love tradition?"
And up, stalking to the Masters table is the Caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, bearing a massive dagger-like knife in his hand, taking his time, and letting the students see the blade, as it glints nakedly in the candle light. There will doubtless be tales told of this night in hushed dorms. From half way down the hall his voice booms out,
"Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye worthy o' a grace
As lang's my arm."
And certainly his arm does look long. Scarily so.
Ilsa offers Adam a friendly smile in greeting. "Have you ever seen this tradition before? I think I did once, but it was several years ago, my first year here maybe. It's quite interesting." And then she hushes to listen to Pringle's booming voice.
Levi pauses inside though he'll move likely to find a place to sit at the house table. He will look to the others who'd come in with him fron his own house nodding to Adam, and gives Ilsa whom he'd not seen enter a small smile and nod as well as he listens to the goings on for the moment content to do this.
Pringle stalks the width of the hall, turning to look down the well loaded Slytherin table, before, as he recites the next stanza he paces back, glaring down at the assembled student body,
"The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead."
Adam shakes his head. "No," he says. He's about to say more when Pringle starts talking, and he listens to the intimidating man as he heads over to take a seat the Hufflepuff table next to Levi. "D'you know what it's all about?" he asks the older boy quietly, wanting to understand what's going on.
Angus raises a hand, and wiggles fingers in a wave of greetings towards Lucretia. Another student, seeing Pringles approach slaps him across the back of the head to get his attention back in the right place.
"Oh gosh. Pringle…" The caretaker was probably not the person that Lu had been expecting to recite the famous poem and she quiets as he passes their table. Because seriously, who wants to get noticed by Pringle? Even at a solemn occasion such as this? Not her. Definitely not her. She elbows her whispering friend on the left and shushes her politely.
Pringle is stroking a thumb thoughtfully over the edge of the blade, whilst looking down the Hufflepuff table intimidatingly, from face to face, as if deciding which one of them to disembowel.
"His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;"
… and then he whirls on his heel and His knife plunges dramatically into the Haggis, slicing it open, and the mix of 'meat' and oats and spices does indeed gush forth onto the plate.
"And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!"
Ilsa settles into a seat at her house's table, smiling in silent greeting to Levi before once again turning attention to Pringle… just in time to find him staring menacingly down at their table. She maintains her best solemn, studious look, sinking down in her seat just slightly.
Angus is busy holding his bagpipes… trying desperately not to make them let out odd noises, whilst Pringle has the limelight. With Angus' rep for pranking he probably feels on borrowed time as it is.
The knife flourishes upwards again, and is held, some of the haggis clinging to the steel as Pringle continues,
"Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit' hums."
Pringle is now concentrating on the haggis, taking a spoon and lifting a dollop of it, to hold it up to display to the whole room, and asking, almost in shouted challenge,
"Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?"
It's almost like he's asking for someone to stand up and challenge the deliciousness of the Haggis. Gwon. I dare you. Come and have a go if you think you're delicious enough.
Lucretia takes a small sip of water from her cup. Everyone, it would seem, has been given cups of water. Perhaps to help them with the taste of what's to follow. An encouraging smile is given Angus' way as he stands there all puffed up with importance at his role in the occasion and she ventures another wave his way; just in case he's feeling isolated by having to stand up there alone whilst Pringle spouts scottish poetry in delightfully dulcet tones.
Angus shifts slightly uncomfortably at the front, and then spies Lulu smiling, and he grins, right on back. It's worth noting that he has a totally scarlet lipstick mark on his cheek.
Ilsa remains seated at the Hufflepuff table, her attention shifting from place to place. First to watch Pringle's rather intimidating display, then to the cup of water in front of her, and to those gathered around to gauge their reactions.
And now it's Ravenclaw getting harranged. Especially the youth who cast scorn on the quality of Haggis. Most of this stanza is recited in the direction of the lurking Anthony Rowle.
"Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!"
Perhaps a little unfair, but for what else is Pringle known. He stands there below the Teachers table, a massive knife in one hand, and a spoonful of Haggis in the other, as he recites the Ode to it.
Adam sinks into his seat when Pringle turns his attention to the Hufflepuff table. He doesn't understand every word the caretaker says, but he gets the gist of what he's saying, and he watches with wide eyes. But when Pringle moves on to the Ravenclaws, he relaxes and lets out a long breath and a nervous laugh.
Angus shifts a little bit. He's clearly feeling a bit… exposed. And not just his knees as they peek out twixt socks and kilt. He's standing up, holding his pipes, as he waits for the Address to be completed, so he can beat his retreat to the Gryffyndor table.
Leoric is relatively relaxed to the untrained eye. He keeps throwing funny looks at Angus, thougb- it takes a good five minutes or so before he seems to hit a eureka moment and stop eyeing MacMillan's face.
Andrew is sitting at the Ravenclaw table trying to read. The shy boy seems perfectly content to ignore everyone in favor of his charms texbook. He turns the page glancing up breifly and then quickly returning to his book. Nope he doesn't dare look at Pringle and his knife that would be hazardous to his already bad health.
Lucretia finally manages to catch Leoric's eye, and when she does there's a quick wave of her fingers for him. There's also a small blush that just hits her cheeks and she quickly dips her head away, looking back to Pringle. Pringle is enough to quell anyone's blushing embarrassment and so she fixes her eyes on him.
Leoric cheers notably and ceases fidgeting at Lucretia and her immediately returned wave. He returns his attention to the Scots up presenting.
The Caretaker now turns his attention to the Gryffyndors, his knife coming around with a whistle to match the words of the poem
"But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;"
And then back to the Slytherins, so that each House has been menaced, as he makes little swishing moves of the knife. It almost looks more like a machete in size.
"An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle."
Ilsa stares at the knife Pringle wields, looking rather relieved once he has gone to terrorize the other clan tables rather than the Hufflepuffs. She continues listening, rather mesmerized by his words.
Angus twitches slightly, as his house gets menaced. He was, afterall, rather closer than most to the whistling of the huge knife, standing as he is, at the front, near the Gryffyndor table head.
The haggis has been sliced and is sitting spilling its guts out on the Teachers table, steam rising from it. The pupils are all in their seats, save Angus, who is standing, holding bagpipes, a little way to the top of the Gryffyndor table. Several of them, including Anthony, are attempting to vanish into their seats. The reason for this self effacement is clearly Pringle, who is pacing around the top end of the hall, with a massive knife, spouting poetry towards the haggis.
Lucretia makes a sudden gesture to one of the girls opposite her. Its the age old signal of 'swap seats'. Whilst Pringle is off menacing one of the other tables, the exchange is effected and whilst it might not at first be obvious as to why, when she turns to the Hufflepuffs table behind her and whispers something to one of the fourth years, that reason might be obvious. "Are you going to try some haggis?" she asks of Leoric, one hand cupped about her mouth to direct the quiet words enough that he might hear them.
Leoric twists about to reply in kind, a sharp eye out for any teacher attention. "Of course. I heard some second years snickering at me- seems a certain someone has been making fun of some sissy fourth year what braids pretty girls' hair. If I run from food, I'll never live it down."
Madeline was seated at the Gryffindor table near Angelus, and with her back towards Adam who sits at the Hufflepuff table, just behind her. It such a shame he'd been sorted into the /wrong/ house at the beginning of the term, wasn't it? "Do you think there's gonna be other stuff?" she whispers loudly to Adam, turning her head towards him. "Not just haggis? Do you think they do this every year? Wonder if Pringle has ever hit anyone with that knife?"
And now the scary Caretaker, long knife still in hand, leaves the student tables, to pace towards the high table, and specifically the huge haggis resting on a silver platter before the Headmaster,
"Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a HAGGIS!"
And this triumphalist moment reached, he bows, and whether it's to the Haggis or to the Headmaster is really unclear, and then straightens up.
Ilsa glances across the Hufflepuff table, belatedly noticing her cousin seated nearby. A faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she watches Leoric's whispered exchange with Lucretia, although she's likely too far away to hear specifics. "I'll feel a lot better about this when Pringle puts that knife down," she whispers aloud to her fellow Hufflepuffs, eyeing the caretaker warily.
Lucretia's body is now angled forty-five degrees to the Slytherin table so that conversation with Leoric is made a little easier. Like him, she keeps an eye out for prowling prefects and caretakers of the Pringle variety that might break up the little tete-a-tete which they are now enjoying. "But that's terrible. I'm sorry if you've been having your leg pulled for it, but I think that its wonderful that you can do that." There's a small chew of her lower lip and a look that's shot to the top table. "I think they're going to serve the haggis out now. Are you going to try it? If you do, I will too."
Adam turns at the sound of a familiar voice and sees his friend sitting right behind him. "Dunno," he says, grinning at Madeline. "I hope so. Don't know if I'll like it." He shoots a wary glance up towards Pringle. "Bet he has." He glances sideways at Ilsa and nods. "Me too. Did you see the way he was looking at me? It looked like he wanted to stab me!" Of course, Pringle was looking at the entire Hufflepuff table at the time, not just Adam.
Angus moves his pipes to just one side, and manages to juggle them and starting to applaud, a bit cautiously, it must be true, and he does wait for the teachers to start before he joins in.
Leoric damn near preens over Lucretia's praise. He nearly misses Ilsa and her sneaky littlr smile. Red cheeks flush further but he smiles sheepishly at his cousin. He turns back and shrugs. "It's the national dish over here, right? Might as well, they like it well enough."
Anthony shifts in his chair slightly, looking around, and then considering the haggis as it starts to get dished out, and more is brought directly from the kitchen to each student table. He doesn't look entirely impressed, but does join in the applause politely. And briefly.
Angelus is seated at the Gryffindor table, carefree and pleasant as he smiles around at the students nearest him. There's no concern whatsoever as he chats cheerfully, quietly, with his peers. An amused laugh escapes the youth as he catches the exchanged words between Adam and Madeline, but his fingers slip over his mouth as he rests his head in his hand. A brief glance is cast towards the girl, and when he shoots a look over at Adam at the next table, the frown which is hidden can't help but seep into his eyes. But when it fades and Gel lowers his fingers from his mouth, he offers Adam a delightful little smile as he dips his head ever so politely.
Madeline applauds as well, before adding towards Adam, "Sure glad we're not sitting at the head of the table, today!" She would have hated to have him brandishing that knife at her! As the food is delivered, she straightens back up, smiling at Angelus brightly.
Ilsa's grin only widens as she catches Leoric's eye. A hand lifts, fingers waggling in a quick wave toward her cousin before attention is once more shifted to Adam. She laughs, a hand pressed to her mouth to muffle the sound lest it capture Pringle's unwanted attention. "Menacing, wasn't it? Pringle himself is intimidating enough. Pringle with a knife, staring daggers at you? The stuff of nightmares," she whispers loudly, making a face.
And that gets Ilsa a glare, from the man himself, who must, somehow, have heard his name. Any applause stilling, he says, "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, there is a miscreant awaiting my…. attentions." And he stalks out, the length of the hall, knife still in hand, as he heads to the great doors, and towards his domain, where Myrus awaits him.
"Me too!" Adam tells Madeline as he applauds with the others. "Is this supposed to be a scary sort of tradition, d'you think?" He glances over at Angelus and gives him an uncertain smile in return, but then he turns back to his own table. "Yeah!" he tells Ilsa. "You'd think they'd choose someone a bit less scary. Unless it's supposed to be that way?" His eyes grow wide when Pringle looks their way, and he sinks further into his seat as he watches the man stalk off.
Lucretia does the unthinkable; she quietly moves over from the Slytherin table to the Hufflepuff. There's a few murmurings of discontent amongst the friends she abandons, but they're also wrapped up with several whisperings behind hands. Whisperings and knowing nudges. It might be that a prefect will hoick her out of the new seat she finds herself, the girl shoe-horning herself into the space between Leoric and the boy he sits next to. How cosy. She's just small enough however that she might go unnoticed. "Shhhh. Don't tell on me. I just want to make quite sure that you do eat some, and you can check that I do too." Just catching the wave and grin that Ilsa directs Leo's way, she eyes the girl carefully then leans into Leo and whispers something to him.
Anthony sighs, and starts serving out from the small serving dish, "You know, this seems an awful fuss to make over a minced offal pudding." But he does keep it down, at least until Pringle is out of the Hall.
Ilsa freezes as Pringle's attention shifts back in her direction. Her eyes widen in horror, momentarily thinking she might be the miscreant to whom he refers. Understanding dawns as the caretaker strides away, the Hufflepuff exhaling with relief. "If it is supposed to be scary, they certainly picked the right man for the job," she notes to Adam. "I just hope he doesn't have a good memory for faces."
Angus starts packing his pipes away, which elicits the odd screan, and then, bekilted, heads towards the Gryffyndor table. And yes, he's still got that bright scarlet lipstick mark on his cheek.
Is that coldness in Angelus' stare? It might as well not have flickered in his royal blue eyes, for it only lasts a second as he quirks a brow at Adam. A soft sigh escapes the youth and a pleasant smile slips across his face as he turns gaze towards the table on the other side of Gryffindor. His eyes run along the long table of Ravenclaws and for a moment he debates finding Fiona and joining her. But he lets the thought pass, shrugging lightly as he nods his head across the table as he answers one of his housemates. "Oh, yes, it's nothing - just a fleeting thought."
"I don't know!" Madeline answers Adam with a giggle, hastily turning back to her own table when Pringles gaze roams towards the Hufflepuffs. Oh dear. Would he get cross with her for leaning over like that? …apparently not. She breathes a sigh of relief, then lifts a hand to wave it eagerly at Angus. "Great job!" she calls, regardless of the actual quality of the performance.
Angus returns the wave, "Thanks!" And he slips into a seat at the Gryffyndor table, "I've never piped a Haggis before." So, who did it last year? Who's to tell. And he then briskly starts _filling_ his plate with Haggis, tatties, and neeps. "Should have whisky, or at least butterbeer, but water it is!" And he addresses himself with gusto to the meal. "Och, Great Chieften." *chew chew* "O' th' puddin' race!" *shovel*
"Angus! ANGUS!" Lucretia whispers urgently as the Macmillan passes on his way back to the Gryffindor table. "Well done! That was wonderful. You might want to just clean your cheek up though, Medusa left a mark on you." There's a grin with that, perhaps aware that her co-conspirator on past pranks might well be deliberately wearing the imprint of the Queen of Slyertherin's kiss as a badge of honor. But too quickly he's passed right by and in the following of him with her eyes, she just manages to spot Angelus a table over. "Angelus!" she calls, a friendly wave of her hand given. Whether he'll notice just which table's she sitting at is up for debate, but certainly she's never managed to wave at him from the Slytherin one before now.
"Yeah," Adam says to Ilsa, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I hope so too. Does he have to carry that knife around like that?" Rattled just from Pringle looking his way, he turns to examine the food on the table. He doesn't look thrilled with the fare, but he supposes he'd better be polite and try some, so he puts very small portions onto his plate. Turning around to get Madeline's attention, he says, "You had this stuff before?"
Anthony has the _absolute_ bare minimum, and as soon as he decently can, he gathers his stuff up, and heads off towards the Ravenclaw part of the Castle.
Madeline watches Angus with a dubious expression on her features. She's piled on the neeps and tatties on her plate - but took the smallest portion of the haggis that she could.
Looking back towards Adam, Madeline shakes her head. "Well. I think one of them is just mashed tatters, isn't it? I mean, the veggies couldn't be /that/ bad, could they?" Shrugging her shoulders, she starts in on the two piles on her plate.
"I suppose it's all part of the tradition," Ilsa muses to Adam, slender shoulders raising into a shrug. "At least he's gone now and it's time to enjoy the food." With this, she glances down to her plate and attempts a neutral look. Her first bite is hesitant, the fork far from heaping with food.
"Yeah," Adam says to Madeline. "They look okay…" But it's with some trepidation that he turns back to his plate. After staring at it for several seconds, he glances sideways at Ilsa with a sheepish grin, thinking that enjoy might be a bit of a stretch. "What d'you think?" he asks her, unwilling to try it himself before he's gauged her reaction.
Angelus bobs his head in response to another boy sitting nearby, saying a few words as his eyes flick off to catch sight of Angus returning. "Hey, fancy playing, mate," he offers as he flashes a grin. The youth catches the wave from Lucretia and his grin widens, his head popping up as he offers a greeting from his seat. He doesn't call out, but he does lift a hand to flick it from his forehead outward, as if in a subtle salute. A 'hi' in sign language, but it doubles as a wave at least.
Angus doesn't _quite_ catch what Lucretia says, and so after the edge of his hunger is taken off, with a sizeable amount of haggis, he gets up to amble his way over to the Slytherpuff, althought Angelus gets a reply en-route, "Och, didyae no ken? Ah'm Angus MacMillan. Ah kin dae anythin'!" And with that, and a cheeky grin, he's resuming his voyage. When he reaches Lucretia in her new place, he asks, "Fit yehs talkin' bout, Quine? Mark?" He shakes his head, "Didnae catch it"
Lucretia grins at Angus and stands up from her seat, pulling a cotton hanky from where its tucked in her sleeve. "You have lipstick. Hold still." She spits on the cloth and rubs it over Angus' cheek, the mark smearing into a red streak before with another wipe or two its pretty much gone. "There. See?" She holds the handkerchief up for him so he can see for himself the scarlet that now decorates it, and in the place of the kiss that's been wiped away she drops an affectionate one of her own.
Ilsa shovels a very small amount into her mouth, chewing slowly as she takes her first taste. "It's… different," she remarks in response to Adam. "Try it. See what you think. Everything's worth trying just once, right?" She gestures to him, offering an encouraging look although she doesn't take another bite. She glances back to her plate, then to Madeline to enthuse, "The mashed tatters look good." For the less adventurous eaters.
Angus rolls his eyes upwards, at the 'mothering', and starts to say, "Yes, Lulu." But only gets as far as the 'Ye…' before he's cut off by the kiss, and flushes, "Uh, yehs going tae the Celidh afterwards? If yehs are, mebee a dance?"
Lucretia's face melts in a delighted smile. A small flick of her fingers is given to straighten Angus' hair and she nods her head. "I will be going. Yes. I've only been to one ceilidh before, but they called the songs and told you what to do and it was a lot of fun. I'd not refuse a dance, in fact I shall look forward to it." The flick of her fingers finishes with a small ruffle before she sits herself back down at the table, picking up her fork to dig it into the haggis that's set before her.
Madeline glances back at Ilsa with a smile, happily sticking to her neeps and tatties for now. They really aren't bad! Her tiny serving of haggis continues to sit untouched.
Leoric takes a healthy portion of everything made available, tucking into it with gusto as Lucretia starts mothering Angus and chatting about dances. He catches the kiss- which, to the observant, is when he starts to eat- then relaxes for no apparent reason, eating nibbles from the foods he's sampled in small amounts.
"Different," Adam repeats, unconvinced after watching Ilsa try the food. But he nods his head, albeit with reluctance. "Suppose so." Still, he hesitates after putting some on his own fork. He holds it in front of him, eyeing it dubiously, and then slowly moves it into his mouth using just his teeth. He chews, swallows, and then reaches for some water to wash it down. "Right, well that's tried once then!"
Leoric says, "I'm thinking I might be able to let you go for a dance or two, Lulu- anything leaves you with a smile like that is worth a few minutes out of the spotlight." He shifts and offers Angus a smile. "Best part is, she's the one person I know won't come back from a dance funny colors."
Angus gives a broad grin, "Och, y'ken, Lulu, Lots o'dances, aye?" Now, when did 'one or two', become 'lots'? And to the last bit he grins, "Well, it's no _my_ fault if some folks dinnae respect ladies, is it?"
Lucretia eats some of the haggis and swallows it down. "This is actually not so bad," she says, a small smile as a mouthful of water is used to chase the haggis down. "Who would have thought that sheep's stomach, heart, liver and whatever else could actually taste so good." Helping herself to a little more from the main platter on the table, she hesitates at the comment about her turning different colours and looks between Leoric and Angus. "I'm not sure what that means, but I think it'd be nice to have a magically colour changing dress as I dance." If there's gossip, she's apparently not up on it.
Leoric leans in to update Lucretia on the topic.
Leoric whispers: "I just meant he won't sneak colorchanging itching powder into YOUR dress when he dances with you.
Ilsa offers Madeline a warm smile in return, then glances back to Adam. She nods approvingly as he takes a bite. "You see? No one can fault you for trying it and saying it's not to your taste. At least you've tried it now." She continues eating, although she avoids shoveling another mouthful of haggis onto her utensil. Seems it's not to her liking either.
Lucretia oh's att Leo whisper to her, a blush rising in her cheeks. "Oh no! That would never happen…" And she tilts her head backwards, looking up at Angus from what might presumably be an uncomfortable angle. "You didn't have any of that dyed itching powder left, did you angus?" She's just checking.
A laugh escapes Angelus in response to Angus. "And I'm glad for it. It keeps me motivated to keep up with you." His year mate is certainly going to have to fight with him if he wants to be the best, so bring it on. Of course, it's all in good fun. Gel takes a bit of everything so that he has a balanced plate. He bows is head as he scoops some of the meal into his mouth, but a brow quirks as he regards Angus and Lucretia. A smirk twists onto his face as he swallows his food, and the youth says aloud, "Blimey, where's mine, Black?" But he gives a teasing grin and a snicker over at Angus. "Got to teach me how to play those pipes," he says on a laugh. But then he returns to his food, shoveling more into his mouth before rising from his seat. It is, in fact, the vegetables that barely get touched.
Angus shakes his head, "We used it all, Lulu. Although I was thinkin' o' gettin' some more, forbye it worked awful well. But it isnae good tae repeat yersel'." There's a bright smile, "It'd be a fearful… inconvenience… if we used the same prank twice, aye, Lulu?"
"Fearful inconvenience. Yes," Lucretia says, giving her second, or third, or is it simply first cousin once removed a quick hug. Just catching Angelus' comment, she pulls a face at him and touches the thin rope of gold that encircles her neck. "I do owe you a dance, Gel. If for no other reason than that the present you gave me is so lovely. And then she's loading her fork with a little more haggis, determined to prove that the dish isn't quite so bad as some might think.
Adam grins at Ilsa. "Yeah!" he says. With that over with, he finds some more familiar food to eat, pushing the haggis onto the far edge of his plate. "The bagpipes were really good, though, weren't they?" he asks Ilsa. "I thought I wasn't going to like them at first, but that Gryffindor played really well."
"Of course he did - he's a Gryffindor!" Madeline shoots over her shoulder at Adam, flashing him a broad smile. When is she /not/ playing the 'Gryffindor is the BEST!' card?
Leoric makes a show of counting on his fingers. "How long's the dance, again? I'm starting to think I might be sitting for the better part of the evening!" He laughs, not particularly over worried. "First and last dances are mine, though, Lu. The rest are…" He lingers over the word before an overly dramatic, "… up for negotiations."
Angus returns the brief hug, planting a return light kiss on the girls cheek, and whispering to her as he does so.
Angus whispers: You're not… _dating_ him are you? C'mon. He's tryin' tae control yehs.
"Don't worry - I'll dance with you too, Black!" Madeline calls brightly to the Slytherin girl, talking to her fellow Gryffindor not that far off. She flashes her a broad smile, a forkful of tatties in her hand, and the prompltly shovels into her mouth.
Lucretia nosecrinkles at Leoric then, like she did with Angus, dots a perfectly sweet and chaste kiss to his cheek. "Of course," she tells him, then turns to listen to Angus, the smallest of frowns just etching a mark across her brow. "Angus…" There's a pause, a laying down of her fork and a genuine puzzlement that floats briefly behind her eyes. Getting to her feet, and keeping her voice low, she murmurs something quickly to him, hand cupped around his ear to keep it sacred from anyone overhearing.
You whisper, "He's not asked me to date him. No. He's fun to hang out with, same as you are." A beat and a sudden grin that lightens the words that follow. "Angus Macmillan! Are you jealous?"
Angus frowns slightly, and admits, "Mebee, a wee bittie." But no more than that is actually _said_, so it's hard for the evesdroppers to make out more than that.
Lucretia whispers to Angus, then turns her attention in Madeline's direction. "Fortunately for me, I have enough dance partners to never have need of dancing with you Evans. Merlin's third eye, but you probably dance as badly as the manners you display." Angus' response just draws a smile from her and she wraps him in a tight hug. "Well you shouldn't be," is her simple reply to that.
"He certainly did," Ilsa agrees to Adam, glancing toward the be-kilted Gryffindor. "He's quite talented." Madeline's esteem for her housemates causes the Hufflepuff to grin as she finds the girl's enthusiasm endearing. Setting her fork down on her plate, she shifts slightly on the bench. "I'd quite forgotten about this tradition. I certainly didn't expect to be spending today doing this, but it's fun."
Turning back to Adam, Madeline says brightly, "Did you hear her just compliment my dancing? I mean - I've got /great/ manners, after all." She grins at her friend.
"That's why I'm surprised!" Adam says, grinning at Madeline. He watches as his friend offers to dance with Lucretia and has to stifle his laughter, turning it into a dry cough. "I know!" he says after he recovers. "I wonder why she won't dance with you. Maybe she's afraid you'll show her up." He nods his head at Ilsa. "Me too. Except I didn't really forget, I just didn't know about it."
"I am properly lost," remarks Leoric, though he seems happy enough to get his own kiss. He seems to settle himself working on his food while Lu and Angus whisper back and forth, giving the firstie Gryffindors an odd look as he tries to decide if they're thick, resilient or pranking Lucretia.
Angus gets en-be-hugged. It seems to be a frequent response to the wirey little Scot, "Och, wull…. if yehs say so, Lulu." A pause, "An' mah haggis is gettin' cold…."
"I really don't care what stupid little firsties think," Lucretia says turning her attention back to table chatter and not bothering to lower her voice in the least. If anything, her eyes look over towards Adam and Madeline with that comment, ensuring that they do hear. "I'm not even certain that either of them will last out their first year here." No quantification is given that remark, though there's a small touch of her hand to Angus' arm when he talks about his haggis going cold. "I'll see you later at the dance then Angus. And congratulations on the bagpipe playing."
Madeline sticks her tongue out at Adam, at his comment on 'surprise,' and doesn't seem at all bothered at Lucretia's barbs. She's too busy making her own fun.
"Did you try the haggis?" she asks her friend. /She/ still hasn't.
From her seat at the Ravenclaw table, Elizabeth settles in, her pale eyes quickly glancing over the special meal that has been prepared while also thinking through the list of other things in her mind that she'll have to do over Hogsmeade weekend. Most of which is catching up on books.
Angus tromps back to the Gryfyndor table, his kilt swishing, and sinks in to devour his haggis, wi' a vengeance!
Adam, on the other hand, does seem bothered by what Lucretia says. There's a hint of fear in his eyes when she talks about them not lasting the whole year. "What?" he says to Madeline, looking round at her again. "Oh, yeah. Of course I did! It's tradition."
"Was it any /good/?" Madeline whispers to her friend. She doesn't want to try it! But if /Adam/ says it's alright…
Leoric finishes the food on his plate, pausing to look over at the platter of extra food, and deciding against seconds. He glances over towards the little Slytherin tucked in between him and his one-time neighbor. "It -is- a pretty necklace, Lucretia. Angelus has good taste."
Ilsa casts Lucretia a level look, considering the other girl for a moment. Her expression is devoid of judgement, appearing pensive instead. Turning back to Adam, she grins and leans in to murmur to the first year.
"Thank you. It was a Christmas present," Lucretia says, lifting the chain with the tip of one finger. She lets it dangle for a moment in the curve of the digit before dropping it inside her jumper and rising to her feet. "I think I'm going to go and change for the ceilidh. Do you want to meet up beforehand and walk in together? If so, I'd not mind that either." Madeline and Adam apparently pushed aside, she hovers a moment, waiting for Leoric's answer.
Adam smiles at Ilsa, grateful after listening to what she says to him. He gives his shoulders what he hopes is a casual shrug, as though Lucretia's words didn't really bother him. But the gesture lacks confidence. He turns to Madeline again. "Oh, it was… different," he says, echocing Ilsa's earlier comment on the dish. "But I tried it, so you have to too! Unless you're not as brave as me…"
Oh, that's just mean. Madeline looks flatly /appauled/ in the face of Adam's words, but what eleven year old can withstand such peer pressure. She lets out a sigh, and pokes at the haggis on her plate, then scoops up a small bit on her fork. After scowling at Adam, she very reluctantly shovels it into her mouth - and swallows. Ugh.
Leoric shifts in his seat to face Lucretia and offers, perhaps with a touch more solemnity than makes actual sense, "I would -love- to accompany you, Lucretia. How long do you want to get ready? I can meet you outside the dungeons when you're prepared."
Lucretia nods. "Twenty minutes? It won't take long." There's a genuinely warm smile on her face for the Hufflepuff, and as she turns to walk away, those seated close enough would note that her hand is wrapped within Leoric's, their fingers entwined. The link lasts until the stretch of it just snags her step and she turns back to pull a face at him. "Dungeons then." A brief pause as she dips to whisper something to him, then a careful extraction of her hand is made from his, and she turns and leaves.