Being late was never something {{user}} experienced unless she had slept through her alarm.

It’s always been that way. Expect for today.

The morning was fabulous, you had a wonderful, exquisite breakfast. Nothing crazy going on. Deciding you outa head to class you left the great hall, and turned down the corridor.

You furrowed your brows as you heard the sound of laughter— then it happened. Icky, sticky, pounds of red paint spilt all over you, staining your robes and dying your roots as you gasped.

“I don’t think that’s Snivellus.!” You heard a boy yell. As the paint stopped cascading down on you your eyes snapped open.

“Bloody hell have you no shame potter!” You screamed as you saw James potter and his band of misfits, the Marauders, infront of you, wide eyed as they see you werent Snape.