Nick-Nack-Paddy-Whack.

[jethro]

"This old man, he played one. He played Nick-Nack on my thumb. With a Nick-Nack-Paddy-Whack, give a dog a bone, this old man went rolling home." A light, airy singing voice sounded from the back corner of the kitchens. The tone was rather mild, and mellow, the voice, soft and calm. Jethro Stevens owned this voice. Singing had always been a passion on his, since the day he started in the school choir. It was different from sport. When playing sport, Jet knew how far he could push himself. He knew he could score a tri. He knew he could shoot a basket. He knew he could paddle hard enough to catch the wave. But when singing, everything was still a new territory. The Gryffindor didn't know if he could reach that high, or low note without cracking up. He didn't know if he could hold the note for long enough. He didn't know if he could even hold a steady note when sining as a solo in from of a large crowd. He wasn't ready for that, yet. Considering he had only expressed his passion to very few new people, Jet was still leaning to trust people's reactions.

The past few weeks had been hard for the boy. Summer wasn't anywhere. Full stop. That brought great sadness to the boy, as he had previously felt something for her. Maddy and Sally were no where, either. The two Hufflepuffs were gone from their castle home, as far as Jet was concerned. Milo and Larissa had seemed to escape as well, considering they were in the same house as Jet, it would be hard to miss them. So, bravo, Jethro was left with none of his best friends. Zip. Zero. Zilch. And for the above reason, was why Jethro had been so anti-social these days. Sure, there were new kids, but he wanted his old ones back. The Gryffindor resorted to hanging out by-himself when no one he knew was around. Tonight was no exeption besides the fact that it was almost curfew, and Jet was hungry.

The First year hummed for a moment, before starting on the next verse of the song. "This old man, he played two. He played Nick-Nack on my shoe. With a Nick-Nack-Paddy-Whack, give a dog a bone. This old man went rolling home." a small, sad smile reached the boy's face, as he brushed the bread-crumbs from his hands. Jethro placed the ham, mustard, lettuce, cheese and tomato sand which onto a plate, and carried it over to a large wooden table. The boy pulled out a chair with his foot and sat down. One of the younger elf's came to him, it's large green eyes wide and jolly. "May Dizzy get you a drink, Mister Stevens?" the elf's smile was so wide, Jet found it hard to say no. "Yes please, Dizzy." Jethro noticed that Dizzy had made a habit of serving him, each time the boy resorted to the kitchens. "Your usual?" Jet nodded with a smile. The elf bounded off, and returned with a glass of dark grape juice. "Cheers, Dizzy." the boy said, putting down his sand which and taking a sip. "My pleasure, Mister Stevens." and with that the elf whisked away.

Jethro sighed, and took another bite of his sand which. If only things hadn't changed.

[Brenton/Open]

[Brenton Douglas]

Tripping over the robes he'd insisted on not needing to be adjusted as much as they had been, Brent couldn't help but think about how insolent his mum was sometimes. Brent was pretty sure she couldn't be worse if she was Step-mother like on those stories Mrs. Fortune loved so much. It was always the Prince that saved the Princess from evil Stepmothers, but it was glad his mum wasn't evil, and wasn't a stepmother either. She was already never home, and while he got bored sometimes, it was nice because he could play his life out like it was meant to be. Like royalty life was supposed to be.

His home was in tatters inside and out. The floor was probably better off being the dirt underneath the flooring, siding was falling off the outside, the roof was almost ready to cave in (or it felt that way), and their cupboards were usually bare. Not that he went hungry, there was always plenty to eat between him and his mum finding stuff, but he didn't get to eat anywhere near as much as he would've loved to. Sometimes he still went to bed hungry, but he'd eaten.

Here at Hogwarts, it was so cool! He'd found out he could eat all he wanted nearly whenever he wanted. It was awesome he could do that. It'd been a bloody pain when he went home for holidays since he couldn't eat nearly as much then, but it was nice going home too. And then coming back and on his birthday the school was taken over, that was just too much.

He was still kind of under the impression it was all a gag just for him. Really deep in his mind he knew this wasn't true, but it was cool thinking about it. Besides, he must have lots of followers if they were all putting on a shindig like that.

He'd heard a few Slytherins talking about the kitchens before, and Brenton was feeling a bit hungry, so the young Prince made his way around the dungeons starting a little after 8 o'clock and he still hadn't found the ticklish pear until a long time afterwards. And now he was staring at it, he wasn't sure if he was hungry anymore, but he was there and figured he should eat.

Reaching out, he did what he'd heard had to be done and watched as the portrait opened to reveal a busy looking place. It was clean up time he guessed as he doubted very many people were actually eating now.

Sauntering inside, he looked around at the little... things. There was no other way to explain them, they were so weird looking! They looked like they had baseballs for eyes, they were so huge! Not to mention what in bloody were they wearing? It was nuts! Yea, Brent was getting a kick out of his first sight of house elves, not that he knew what they were.

[jethro]

Jethro was midway between taking another bit of his sand which, when he heard the door to the kitchens open. The Gryffindor dropped his food onto the plate, and scurried to the floor. The youngster crawled along the ground, army-style, until the boy was pressed against the floor, and the side of a bench. He was sheltered under the table for now. Truth was, the boy knew he wasn't suppose to be in here, and at this hour, and personally, he didn't want to get caught if he didn't have to. Sure, the sand which remains would be suspicious, only half eaten, although it might've passed as someone just leaving it there.

The Gryffindor pressed his head to the ground, letting his long-ish hair fall out of place. The young boy squinted along the floor, and tried to look for some feet of some description. He spotted some, but they were too far away to determine how old the person was. Although the robes suggested that it wasn't a Professor, but a student. That still meant the person could be a Prefect, heck, Head girl or boy; and although Jethro knew Corey from his own house might let him off, the Head girl was indeterminable, although she was really nice and funny. So for now, the boy hid in the semi-darkness of the table shadow. Watching, waiting.

[Brenton Douglas]

The things began bowing and squeaking at him in high pitched voices and Brenton wasn't really sure what to make of it all. It looked like they couldn't have been dressed worse than if they tried. What they were wearing wasn't close to rags, as they did wear the Hogwarts crest from what the Slytherin could see, but he didn't know why they were wearing such things. Weren't they employed at the schoool? So they got money to buy stuff, didn't they? They should've been wearing nice clothes then! What was wrong with them?

Now the bald things were squeaking and sqwuaking about this and that, offering him food he didn't ask for. This was the life! Exactly the kind of thing royalty deserved, what they got, what they needed to survive. Why did Hogwarts not tell someone of his stature of this little delight? It only made sense to tell him, especially when he was a Prince.

Oh, what goodies he could get at this time! Sweets and cakes and not to mention pies! Looking at the creatures that were fumbling over one another to get his answer, he smiled, teeth even showing. It wasn't often he smiled to show off his groady teeth.

"I'd like a whole meat pie and a really big glass of milk, if I could." No, it wasn't sweets, because those tended to hurt his teeth. The little creatures then started off talking about where he could sit near another sire... Another one? Who else was there?

Eyes darting about, they lead Brenton to table, where he noticed something wasn't quite right. Sitting in the chair they offered to him, his feet didn't reach the floor beneath him, and so he dangled them. Where was this other person? And why was there a half-eaten sandwich on the table? If those creatures left it, they weren't worthy of royalty.

[Claire Desrosiers]

To put it simply, Claire was hungry. The girl really hadn't been eating much lately but now that her appetite made a prompt recovery, where could she find food? The great hall wasn’t open right now and there was no way the eleven year old could wait a second longer. Putting down The Standard Book of Spells Grade One (yes, she had actually been reading that) Claire felt like hitting herself out of stupidity. The one place to go: the kitchens. Since she was a Slytherin naturally her common room was down in the dungeons which made it a lot easier to find this portrait of fruit; at least that is the entrance to the place but what about the tickling a pear deal?

Unable to wait any longer, the impatient child left the first year dorms and strolled out of the common room to the gloomy dungeons below. It didn’t take forever to find the so called portrait of fruit but perhaps the older kids were just pulling her leg went they mentioned about tickling the pear. Of course the pear was there, sitting in the bowl. Thinking that attempting would be less stupid than just staring and the darn piece of fruit, Claire went ahead and tickled the thing and there appeared the door knob.

Only with one foot though the door (or portrait in this case) already a house elf came and asked what she wanted. “Um…do you guys have any pasta or something?” Within a few seconds the house elf ran off and came back with a bowl of pasta. “Thanks! What did you say your name was?”

“Springy miss.” The house elf squeaked bowing low. “If there is anything else miss needs just call!” and off he went. Of course house elves weren’t the only thing Claire caught sight of.

“Brenton? Hey, guess you got hungry too.” She said sitting down at the table. “Say is there someone else here? I see a sandwich here.”

[Brenton Douglas]

Hearing the moving portrait behind him, Brenton spun around to find himself facing the Slytherin royalty. Claire. Brenton didn't see her too often, but he did see her now and then, in classes and the Slytherin common room, her beauty was unmatched by any other at the castle, and she was much too beautiful to go around all the time, letting her beauty shine on others, blinding them in their haste of where they were going. Old and young would all be stopped with the passing by of such innocence and breath-taking smile.

And her shining and winning smile was turned on even the odd looking creatures, how sweet and quaint she truly was.

"Claire..." the boy called back, quietly, nearly under his breath. "Uh, yea'" he answered, realizing how dumb he sounded. "I was, I was hungry, too."

Turning his eyes back to the table, he gazed back upon the sandwich. "Aye, I believe so. I haven' seen no one though."

[Claire Desrosiers]

Claire paid no attention to the slight studder in Brenton's voice but started to eat her pasta which was delicious. Perhaps the sandwich was left there by a house elf or something. But wait, that couldn't be right, house elves normally clean after themselves and everything. It wouldn't be like them to just leave a half eaten sandwich unattended. Perhaps there was someone else here. Hopefully not a prefect since the twelve year old was not much in the mood to get sent to detention.

"Hello? Is there someone else here?" she called. " 'cause you left a sandwich over here." Hopefully the elves would not mistake themselves for Claire's question.

[Brenton Douglas]

Since Claire was now eating her food, Brenton carefully dug into his pie. Scrumptious it was, but he had to be careful not to drop anything on himself. In front of a lady was a horrible time to be eating, but he needed practice anyway. And what better way to practice than in front of real nobility?

Nearly choking on a forkful when Claire called out to another, he tried to cover his cough with gulping down a mouthful of milk, and had to sputter into his glass. Disgusting, yes, but he couldn't think of a better way to do it.

As soon as Claire began talking, pointing out the sandwich, one of the things came over and started sweeping it up. Maybe they didn't keep a very clean kitchen, that could've been the problem. Maybe the sandwich was from a previous guest.

"Apparently, no'" Brenton told the beautiful first year. "They're cleanin' up the mess, maybe i' was somethin' left over from another?"