Lunchtime, continued

[teh_wiz]

The crackle in the air wasn't just end-of-year nerves, and it had to happen.

"Declinatio." The spell deflects general attention away from the two Slytherin witches. As he strides the bench length to where Misses Bulstrode and Parkinson are, not to put to fine a point on it, behaving like six-year-olds, the atmosphere of the Hall changes from

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[lunaticfringe]

Luna turns to face the fracas just in time to get a split second of mental video and parse it as Slytherins on the floor, oh my. Further reflection and investigation are cut short by what feels like a load of wet laundry getting chucked at her brain from the direction of the...Headmaster? Slytherin table? What? Her mouth opens without permission or a whit of warning.

"Please excuse me, I've got an appointment with myself in the library."

Spin dry, press, and fold, thanks, she thinks, completely losing the thread of whatever it was that was so important on the floor. She stands, spins around once, remembers her sandwich, grabs it, remembers the fruit basket, grabs an apple, remembers Padma, waves a "goodbye/pardon me/isn't that funny" her way, remembers her satchel, grabs that, turns quickly round, caroms off the bench, and heads for the doors, wondering what else she'll remember en route. She does remember Professor Weasley fishing about earlier in the week for upper-year students to do grounds cleanup this afternoon, but surely she has a little time...