Garret was skulking around the fourth floor corridors, bored and skiving DADA... as was his usual habits. DADA was fun and all, but honestly... it was a darn long lesson and his attention rarely lasted over the introductions. So since this was one of the lower floors that wasn't flooded, he assumed not many people would be around to catch him.

He stood in front of a portrait of a drunk monk dancing with a nun, pretending to look interested when really all he was thinking about was Lyra Noir.