Trees make messes when brought inside by professoreses. Yes, they do. As much as the studenteses seem to love them. They not house elves who have to clean after them. Argyle flittering around the front most ones by the staff dais as the others gathered. “Sweep…sweep…sweep,” she murmured softly to herself as her small broom swept at the needles that had fallen on the wooden floor of the Great Hall. Her small form perfect for getting under the trees.

Sweep…sweep…sweep.