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Mischa was still clinging to Rookwood, who was still flailing.
"GET HER OFF ME! GET HER OFF ME!"
Mischa nuzzled her face into his robes, adding to Wormtail's distress.
"But I love you!" he wailed.
And Rowle continued to stare creepily at her. But he was also starting to stare at all the other girls in the vicinity...

Meanwhile, Harry's charge ended with not much of a bang. He fell over halfway and ended up somewhere between the very girly pumpkin and lord Moldywort. Moldywort (heh, I think I like this name) took one look at Harry and kicked him.
"That should do him in." He said, exasperated.
Harry groaned and rolled over.

((Muahah! first Grapes and now pumpkins! Oh the power! heart ))

"There is a femal on my arm." said Voldemort.
"So I percieve." replied Snape. Now fully restored to normal save for being dripping wet.
"Get it off, will you."
"Yes, my lord." Snape bowed (squelchily) and pried off Olive (Dripping on her shoes)) and dropped her off a couple of meters away.
"Anything else?"
"Yes!" Voldemort snapped," Go find a towel or something! The last thing I want is you catching a cold and then giving it to me!"

"Is it dead?" asked Daft looking at Potter.
"It smells dead!" said Echo.
"I feel faintly as if we're supposed to do something." said Daft looking at the sky.
"Hufflepuff!" sneered Echo.
"Eh...well...look on the bright side!' Daft replied, stepping over Harry," I could've been in Griffindor!"

Snape sighed. This was not his day. It had all started to go horribly wrong when he'd spilt Lord Voldemort's morning cup of coffee when he'd tripped over Nagini.

Needless to say, that had been bad enough.

But it had been quickly followed by any number of events as, and frankly more, terrible than that.

And Rookwood! Snape felt that the shrubbery had been an insult deliberately calculated to make himself throw his rather delicate sensibilities and person into the river. Then again, maybe not. Rookwood wasn't all that intelligent. But still...the malingering doubt that someone, somewhere out there, was deliberately trying to mock , humiliate and most foremost, make him fall into rivers remained.

((Is my ear itching??))

And now-NOW! Here he was (wet) and surrounded by students! And nasty Gryffindory students at that. (At this point, Echo, for no apparent reason feels as if she's been immortally insulted, and therefore takes the next logical step of throwing a pine cone at Potter) And one of them seemed liable to fancy death eaters! No, his day couldn't possibly come to that! Life wouldn't be that cruel!

((Am I? Possibly...))

But that would be just the sort of thing that might happen, when one was having this sort of day and one was pale with long (greasy) black hair.

"My Lord..." he said rather quickly, " I think it's time we left. We should get back and re evaluate before-"

He looked warily side ways at Mischa.

"Before something...er...embarassing happens."

It was petty. And juvenile, but the pinecone had made such a satisfying thwack as it bounced off the professor's apparently bulletproof skull. Potter was so appallingly thick! Her wand creaked ominously as she clenched her fists, while Potter rattled on about himself, obliviously.

Daft glanced at her, then carefully stepped back, leaving Echo a clear shot of Potter. Then for good measure, she took several more steps back.

"Ortodonsia!" Echo shrieked, brandishing her wand. A pale blue jet of light made a distinct 'ping' as it impacted on Potter's Lockhart-worthy smile. He sat down in surprise, now sporting several green, uneven teeth. Echo huffed grumpily and stomped back towards the castle, several Deatheaters moving sharply out of her way.

*I god-mod your characters shamelessly*

Echo froze. Daft gulped and ducked behind the nearest Deatheater. Potter, completely clueless, tried to spin Echo around romantically. She stood like a rock, feet glued in place. Voldemort looked mildly impressed by the doomsday-ish aura originating from a mere student. Potter gave a second heave, but let go sharply as turquoise sparks shot out of Echo's wand.

"What's wrong shnookums?" Potter asked soppily. Echo stared at him. The gleaming, albeit green, smile shrunk by a few teeth.

"Incendio! Reducto! Expulso!" Echo screamed, firing off curses indiscriminately. Potter flew backwards as the ground he had been standing on simultaneously caught fire and exploded. "Haiirohidama!" Echo added, throwing in her best Asian curse for good measure. Several bright white sparks shot from her wand, leaving blackened trails behind them. Rounding on the Deatheaters, a single glare bespoke volumes of what would happen to anyone who dared mention the event again.

Leaving a distintly ashy professor, several rather terrified students, and some equally disconcerted adults, she stalked away, obliterating an unoffending tree stump on the way.

Olive stared down at her shoes. They were good shoes. They were expensive shoes. They were wet shoes. A delicate flush in her cheeks grew to a deep crimson that even the ditziest teenager would be ashamed to wear.
"You... wet... my... shoes." She stated, voice trembling, to the world in general.
Snape tried to edge behind Voldemort. Voldemort tried to edge behind Snape.
"These... shoes... cost... me... 3... sickles... at... a... garage... sale..." Olive hissed, stalking forwards with distinctive splet splet noises.
"Is it psychotic? I think it's psychotic!" Snape warbled, stumbling on Voldemort's robes and causing the Dark Lord to do a rather impressive backflip onto the grass.
"Oh hell!"
"Sorry!"
"SHOES!"

Large thunderous noises. Lots and lots of billowy smoke. A distinctive crystal-y shatter and a persistent annoying beeping noise.

Daft recovered from the vision just in time to see Potter bending over her.

"AaaahhggG!" she yelled, immediately back pedalling into Voldemort, who, for the second time that day, fell on top of Snape.

She found her wand.
"PUMPKINIFY!"