Madness erupted. Like a baking soda and vinegar fountain. Even the GHOST was getting in on it. Target the Professors?! Was he MAD?

...Most certainly. He'd already lost his head.

But, she didn't really want to loose hers, and so Amur kept her focus on the Head Boy, and the slight disappointment that he didn't have a powdered nose.

Then, she was blinking at him incredulously. He didn't want to use magic on the Boys? The words 'then WHY did you draw your wand' were on their way out, but it was the crack and roll of thunder that had them sticking to the back of her throat. For a moment, she thought maybe the Head Boy was getting rather serious, and then, the great hall ceiling decided to open up on them all.

Well that was.............it could have been worse? Except, a glance at Blaise and it looked like it was worse. Why? Why did he look like a new addition to the ghosts of Hogwarts?

Turning ever so slightly, Amur followed his gaze and then, she saw it. The LOOK. The Starman LOOK. And then that whole thing about tangoing with Head Boys and Girls and Prefects being somewhat like tangoing with Professors came suddenly, and blatantly, true.

A glance back at the Head Boy showed that he was more preoccupied with keeping himself dry than trying to retaliate against the boys. But, he also looked quite miserable, standing there in soppy food and clothing. Sad. He looked like a drenched puppy, and Amur could never help herself around those. So, for a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt. Just a twinge.

After all, he could have chosen to have FUN with the whole thing. Take Blaise for instance. That was pre-ghost-Blaise.

Leaning over, she hooked her finger around Blaise's sleeve and tried to tug-convince him off the table and to the seat beside her. If he didn't come, she was going to have to stand up there beside him, wasn't she? Cause, how terrifying and scaring would it be for the the boys to face Starman's wrath on their own? She really didn't want to herself, but she had practically promised to have their backs. so she gave a more insistent tug.

Ugh. Never. Again. NEVER.

Her eyes caught his dancing notebook and quill from the corner of her eye, noting the pages and feather getting just as soppy as the hair of their owner. With her wand hand, she gave a quick flick and accio and summoned them both too her. It was a challenge to stuff quill and book into her robes while they were still trying to scribble, WHILE still trying to get Blaise off the table.

Was this what being a nanny was like?