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Her mother had been head of the Salem Witches’ Institute for years, not that that brought any sway at all in Hogwarts, which was frankly about as far removed from (or rather opposed to) American magical institutions as any organisation in the world. Nonetheless, spending so much time as a young child with a bunch of middle-aged witches that largely ignored her had resulted in one very bored child who spent a lot of time messing around with the various potion ingredients left scattered around the meeting hall by the lazier members of the coven. Therefore, though there would not have been much point in trying to get her way by name-dropping Salem, there was plenty point in threatening her teachers and fellow students with her wild card potions. One student who had dared make fun of the way she pronounced Wingardium Leviosa, for example, made the second grave mistake of not watching his drink at the main table. Unfortunately, it was a little troublesome for him to remember not to commit either error again, since his mind had been wiped. In fact, the poor boy struggled to remember his own name for several weeks…
Students at the back of the crowd stood on tiptoes as they attempted to glimpse just what Switch was doing with the table. Infuriatingly, those lucky students at the front of the crowd were sniggering periodically, resulting in an almost rhythmic swaying of the crowd as those at the back fruitless tried to push forward.
For those at the front of the audience, it was quite the sight. Where normally student could expect to find the wooden table filled with sumptuous food and assorted dining implements - or simply plain wood – today there was a miniature forest of a thoroughly unnatural and eerie green hue. The only one at that particular moment who truly knew what exactly it was supposed to be was of course Switcher herself, not only because she had planned it, but also because she was at the best angle to see her work.
It had taken her longer than she would like to admit to gather the right ingredients and brew them in just the right quantities to create the potion. Sneaking into the Forbidden Forest – where else? - to gather the cuttings for the forest itself had been a challenge too. But today, each component had come together just so and, having already placed the cuttings in the right places on the table, she had finally been able to reveal her masterpiece to her peers.
Switcher dripped a few last droplets of the adapted Regerminating potion and grinned fiercely. She had truly outdone herself this time. The students closest to her were leaning in, still sniggering occasionally (one claiming they could see a tiny centaur in amongst the tiny trees), though none were quite brave enough to risk touching it given her reputation. Impatient now, Switcher almost ordered them to come up onto the table with her. A few people gasped slightly, and some at the back of the crowd lost their nerve and snuck off out of the hall. It was one thing to watch mischief being done; quite another to actually participate in the mischievousness. One foolhardy soul, however, could not quite resist the temptation, and reached up a hand to the mastermind, who duly helped them up. Once there, they whooped and clapped Switcher on the back. More curious than ever, and naturally emboldened by the relative anonymity of not being the only one, more students climbed up to see what it was.
From above, it became suddenly obvious what it was. Naturally, of course, it was the Slytherin house crest. A perfect choice, since it would make removing it not only a hassle, but almost sacrilegious. How could the Head of Slytherin not let this slide when it was such a brazen show of House Pride?