Braeden... Poor, poor cowardly Braeden jumped up to the ceilings of the school like a cat (maybe not literally) and yelped as, out of nowhere, what seemed to be an alien from Jupiter creeped up behind him, its abnormally large eyes watching him and giggling.

Heart in his throat and with brown eyes wide as saucers, the cowardly lion turned around sharply and sighed in relief at the sight of... a completely normal human being. Who looked nothing like what he had just seen. He took a moment to recompose himself before giving the girl, who appeared to be a fellow Gryffindor, one of his lopsided smiles. "I'm okay! No need to panic!" he assured her (as if the girl even cared that he had almost had a heart attack over something as silly as someone else's reflection on the armor he was playing with). "I think I'll survive," he added, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. His heartbeat was beginning to slow. "Yep, I think I still have another eighty years to go," he confirmed with a nod. Of course, no one had asked and no one cared, but leave it up to Braeden to turn into a chatterbox and talk about stuff no one asked him to know.

"It's like the castle's own little funhouse, isn't it?" he asked with a grin as the girl began to examine her reflection on the other suits of armor.
Okay good, so he wasn't the only one that was terribly amused by these reflections. Maybe it was a Gryffindork thing.