Prelude to Disaster

[Peeves]

If anyone were to enter Peeves’ ‘room’ right now, they probably would have assumed a chocolatier had suddenly decided to diversify his shop into a post office. As it was, the secluded dungeon room was lit only by one small window looking out under the water of the black lake in the shallows but the weak greenish light was enough to illuminate the frankly staggering piles of boxes, chocolates, vials and cards.

The poltergeist had been quiet the past few days- ominously so, if you were a pessimist- as he put the finishing touches to his master plan. Four chocolates, with a drop of the potion carefully added to the tops, went into each box sandwiched between delicate layers of tissue paper before the box was secured with different ribbons and a drop of sealing wax and a card, each different and addressed in a staggering variance of handwriting. After all, he’d had nine hundred years to practice.

The spiked chocolates were only one half the plan- also spread out with them were a variety of cards in garish colours, also filled with loopy or spiky or neat or messy words. The piles of cards were still growing but the mountain of unwritten ones still trumped them as Peeves scribbled away, occasionally cackling to himself. The amount of work meant he’d have to miss the ball the next day, certainly, but he was sure this would be worth it.