UGGGHH. WURRRHH. HARRRUMPH.

As a crusader of wizarding youth psychology, Winnie was normally all for social events of this type. Birthday parties? There with bells on. Luaus? Break out the leis. But campouts...this was new territory. Why any wizard would sleep outside on the ground was beyond her...but she'd give it a shot (if there were sweets and there were SURE to be). And so there was Winnie, huffing and puffing as she dragged her purple backpack and fat fuschia sleeping bag onto the grounds. In keeping with the natural outdoorsy theme, she didn't use magic to get her stuff from the common room to the grounds...and as her pack was full of MOSTLY UNECESSARY JUNK she had probably slipped a disc on her way down.

FLUMP. She dropped her things on the ground and dropped herself beside it. "Wheeeewwww," she exhaled, and pulled a scarf covered with pictures of Tweetie Bird (popular Muggle cartoon character; Winnie found him generally overrated but enjoyed the shape of his head, and his speech impediment) from the pocket of her bright red jumper, and mopped her brow.

"I...need...chocolate...milk," she panted.