Freyr looked around himself if he was to take anyone's place but no one seemed around. So he sat down and started reading his copy of "A Brief History of Time" by famous physicist Stephen Hawking. He loved physics, it was like Muggles' way of explaining the universe. With physics, especially astrophysics - his favourite, he could understand some things better and saw the world clearer. He has brought several physics books with him and found the best place to read them. He wondered would anyone else find this place? He would probably not complain if they did.

By now, many of you will have become familiar with this window seat. You walk by it to arrive at several classes on any given day. It is located in one of the most central corridors in the castle.

Attempting to walk this corridor today, however, will do you no good. The floor has been made particularly sticky—an obvious attempt at a trap, but laid for whom?

Looks like someone might not want you getting to classes on time. The moment you step into this corridor, your feet attach to the floor. Releasing them with a spell will only find you stuck again the moment you take another step.

Maybe this has nothing to do with you. Get your heads out of your English clouds and stop thinking the French are out for you. Afterall.....you have no proof.

Eiji had been on his way to the giant chess board when he passed along the area. He still didn't actually know how to play chess, but Mark had someone sparked an interest in him a while back - not that he would admit to this - and he figured he may as well keep learning something in between his OWL study sessions. Keep the brain functioning and everything. He wasn't sure if these pieces moved on their own as they did in the fabled tale of Harry Potter...but he was going to find out. Maybe he could even charm them to talk and teach him.

As long as they spoke English. The moment any French was uttered, the Slytherin was bouncing.

Lost in thought, Eiji was hardly paying attention to where he was walking and was completely taking off guard when his feet suddenly STOPPED. In fact, his forward momentum was so confident that the rest of him did NOT stop...and the next thing he knew he was sprawled out across the floor, arms pinned against his chest and hands trapped as well.

....his cheek too.

Push as he might, his hands and CHEEK were glued to the floor and it HURT to try and pull himself free. He didn't even have a hope in reaching his wand in his back pocket since, well, HE HAD NO BLOODY HANDS TO USE!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" he roared in frustration.

This. Was. Humiliating.

The sound of Avalon's boots tapping on the floor echoed off the walls of the corridor. She had recently traded her normal fashionable flats for a trendy pair of little black boots. After all, wearing wooly socks with ballet flats wouldn't be a very voguish statement. Thankfully, Beauxbatons wasn't quite as cold as Hogwarts normally was this time of year. But the rosy pink tinge on her cheeks and puffs of air swirling from her chapped lips pointed to one thing: winter was almost here.

It had been a rather pleasant stroll in the rose garden, save for the gust of wind that had prickled her face every once in awhile. She was on her way to the comfy window seat to warm up and work on her upcoming midterm assignments when a frustrated yell broke her train of thought. Turning into the second floor corridor, she was startled to see an older boy sprawled out on the floor. His body appeared to be rigid....why wasn't he moving his arms or anything?!

Alarmed by the sight in front of her, Avalon picked up her pace, hurrying over to help the poor guy. "Are you alright?" she asked incredulously as she got closer. She recognized his face, and vaguely recalled a brief conversation with him on the Hogwarts Express last year. Rasting was his last name, wasn't it?

And then the strangest thing happened. One minute, she was walking briskly toward him to help, and the next, her right foot felt as if it were sucked right into the floor. Hovering her other foot in midair, terrified to place it in front of her as well, she stared in disbelief at the Slytherin. "What is this?" She tugged and tugged at her right leg, but it wouldn't budge. Her foot was completely stuck to the floor. Now this was quite a predicament.

Finneas had just made his way out of his broom closet office, when he heard a roar of frustration. Which obviously meant someone was in trouble and he was going to save them. Wand out and at the ready, the Muggle Studies noodle-man began running down the corridor.

But not for long.

Because. His feet got caught ?? In some sort of sticky?? Something??

Like Eiji and Avalon, Professor Schmoe was also... Stuck. He blinked a couple of times, looking back and forth between the two students. "Eeeerrrrrrr, this is.... not good." Especially because the way his feet landed, happened to be very VERY far apart from one another. And Finneas Schmoe was nearly in a standing split. This was very, very painful.

His expression made this very very clear. A man in pain. And also stuck.

What everyone needed right now, was someone to swoop in and save the day. Someone to be the hero.

Instead, they got Mitchell Barlow.

He was on his way to speak to Finneas about possibly acquiring one of those nifty fidget spinners when he heard the commotion. He wasn’t normally one to run towards danger but he was a curious fellow and so here he was.

The sight that befell him was a peculiar one indeed. Had Rasting been having a nap on the floor?? Why was Sinclair hovering on one foot like some kind of flamingo?? And Finneas????? Was this a new yoga pose?????? It looked uncomfortable.

Mitchell strode towards the group and that’s when it happened. The sticking charm claimed him too. In his attempts to take another step forward, his foot slipped right out of his loose shoe which resulted in one holey, mustard coloured sock being stuck on the corridor floor instead.

“Well this is an almighty pickle isn’t it?” He chimed bemusedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll have us free in a jiffy.”

Except maybe he wouldn’t. Because after a quick pat down, well... it would seem he had misplaced his wand.

Eiji was only just able to pull his face away from the floor enough to be able to peek over he bridge of his nose to see who the voice belonged to. He was still trying to live down Trinetta and a centaur (sorry Nina, but you just screamed the entire time) saving his life last term in the boathouse, so there was a shameless bit of relief that she had gotten herself stuck too.

That was the last thing he needed in this situation, being saved by a second year.

".....I suspect a Sticking Charm," he muttered, not feeling like he really needed to explain wheher or not he was 'alright' given she now knew essentially how he was feeling.

And then there was salt being rubbed in the wound of humiliation, only this time it came in the form of secondhand embarrassment seeing Professor S'more get stuck...and in all positions THAT one. It was as though the man were trying to play Twister with the stones on the corridor floor. At least it didn't appear like the Muggle Studies professor would be doing much in the way of saving.

The appearance of Professor Barlow was a much welcomed one, he could accept help and saving from this man, only as he tried to watch the professor his dark brown hair kept falling across his face and poking him in the eye. Since he had no free hands thanks to them being stuck to the floor, all he could do was blow the strands away from his face - which made his mouth contort in to all sorts of absurd shapes as he tried to target his breath to his in just the right spot.

".........any day now, professor," he encouraged haughtily.

Finneas was all kinds of uncomfortable at the moment. His trousers were not very happy being stretched this far, and they were riding up his ankles making his neon socks quite visible. They were also very much bunching in places they were not meant to bunch. Y i k e s. A whole ordeal. He did, however, try to wiggle his legs around to help alleviate some of the--

SSsssssSSsssshhhhrrrrrrrrr-uuckkkkk

... Uh oh. Finneas Schmoe was very afraid. Not because his feet were stuck to the ground, but because he could feel a breeze between his knees.

O__________O

The Muggle Studies Professor made a very audible, awkward sound as he immediately pulled his wand out of his pocket hoping that he could draw attention from everything that had just happened. He pointed the wand towards Mitchell's feet and cast a quick unsticking reversal charm at them. "Errrrr, see if that did the trick!" His voice jumped up five octaves that day.

Miserable, uncomfortable, and torn pants: The musical. Directed and starring: Finneas Schmoe.

.... yeah, he definitely didn't have his wand on him.

Sorry Rasting, you were stuck here for a while. They were ALL stuck here for a while it would seem. At the thought, Mitchell emitted a rather loud, somewhat girlish giggle. Oh yes, this was a kerfuffle, there wasn't any doubting that.

And at least his trousers were still in one piece, which apparently couldn't be said for poor Finneas.

A kerfuffle, yes, but an AMUSING kerfuffle!

"Yes, I think that's done the job," Barlow responded with glee, feeling a little wriggle room. It was the side that was missing a shoe and he wriggled, wriggled, WRIGGLED until not only was he missing a shoe, he was also missing a sock and he was left balancing flamingo style on one foot. The other foot was now bare. "..... or perhaps it hasn't." Drat.

"Don't suppose any of you are hiding a Plan B up your sleeves, are you?"

Because he was severely lacking in the balancing department.

Wobble.

Okay, her one standing leg was really starting to ache now. Thank goodness that she dabbled in practicing yoga with her sister back at home, because if it weren't for her balance and flexibility, she would have been splayed out on the floor by now. The only thing keeping her from bursting out laughing (at Schmoe's pants and Barlow's now shoe-less foot) was the realization that they were actually stuck. And not even the professors knew how to unstick them.

Considering that a low lunge would be more comfortable than her current one-legged stand, Avalon gently slid her hovering foot back to rest on the piece of floor before the sticking charm started. Well, she didn't anticipate to get a hamstring workout today, but it seemed as if there was no other option. "Er, I don't know of any other unsticking charms." Avalon said sheepishly. And it seemed like the one Schmoe had tried didn't even work. She racked her brain for any other options.

Well, the blasting spell or reductor curse might work, but it also might leave the corridor in shambles, and a few of them without their lower extremities. So that was probably out of the realm of possibility. Not to mention the fact that this bizarre sticky stuff was probably immune to any counter-magic. The young Ravenclaw truthfully couldn't think of any other ideas, instead of shouting for someone to retrieve the Headmaster. And time was of the essence. By the looks of it, someone would be making another face plant soon.

"What in galloping hippogryffs are you all dallying for? Don't you have classes to be in?"

Noble had places to be, didn't they know? He'd been on his way to the greenhouses to prepared for a NEWTs class on the harvesting and preservation of ingredients, but didn't get very far before he'd gotten caught up in what a small crowd playing an odd form of musical statues. Except the music from down the hall was still playing, one of them was doing some very odd break-dancing, and another was doing a terrible job of being a statue flailing around like that.

Hang, on was that Barlow wobbling around?

...and then he saw Schmoe's wardrobe mulfunction. That he did not need to see.

Noble rolled his eyes, grumbling in his throat. Apparently he taught with infants, and frankly, he didn't trust the Muggle Studies professor. Schmoe oozed with second-hand embarrassment. That was reason enough not to venture too close until he'd sussed out what was going on, so thankfully Noble hadn't yet gotten stuck too.

"Could anyone be so kind to explain the, ahem, cause of this blockage?"

Sooner rather than later. Before any of the Frenchies turned up.

................................

Speaking of rubbing salt in the wound, now he was seeing far too much of Professor S'more and he was contemplating just how much of a hypocrite he would look if he attempted a Memory Charm on himself to Obliviate the sight from his cranium. The knowledge as to whether the Muggle Studies professor was a boxers of tighty whities sort of bloke was completely unnecessary.

And Professor Barlow was equally disappointing.

Then came the voice of Professor Noble and hope was restored in the salty Slytherin.

"Not sure, professor," Eiji grumbled while trying to push himself a bit more off the floor into a plank position - which his twig arms would not be able to hold for long. "I was just walking when I apruptly...wasn't...and lost my balance. Suspected a Sticking Charm but..." He ventured glances towards Professor Tweedledum and Tweedledee. "....attempts at removing it have proven fruitless."

Professor Tweedledee reporting for duty!

Many this was really bad. Like, really bad. Today was the wrong day to wear his Captain America boxers. The worst day for that, even. It was also quite unfortunate that Finneas' face had turned three shades redder right at the moment that the Potions Master arrived at the scene.

"YeEs," he voice cracked nervously. "Something stronger than a run-of-the-mill sticking charm." ......................... Superglue?

Not all superheroes wore capes... some of them wore stern expressions instead. Professor Ignatius Noble to the rescue?

Hopefully, because this balancing malarkey wasn't ideal and his one bare foot was starting to get cold.

"Yes, precisely," Barlow piped up, displaying no signs of embarrassment despite the predicament. "Couldn't have put it any better myself, exactly what they said. Any assistance would be much appreciated."

Please and thank you.