Remember when the rhythmic hum of the Muggle machines had almost been soothing? This sudsy situation had quickly escalated into a full-blown soap opera.

The washing machines were no longer simply rumbling—they were ROARNG. One thudded violently in place before spinning at such speed that its rubber feet began to skid across the floor with an earsplitting screeeee. The rhythmic churn devolved into a cacophony of banging, splashing, and high-pitched clinks as loose Galleons and buttons rattled around inside. The door swung open and closed, dispelling and flinging both liquid and round projectiles as it spun. A damp dress shir whipped through the air on trajectory to slap the professor [Jeorge Leroy] squarely across the face and was followed almost immediately by a jet of soapy water from the spinning machine. Things certainly were spinning out of control, weren't they?

A burst of steam hissed from the valves of another unit and momentarily fogged up half the room. Then came the pop of something snapping internally...which surely could not be good...was that the detergent drawer? It flew open and began firing drawerfuls of soapy liquid, splattering anything in its path with streaks of lavender and citrus-scented foam.

A third machine let out a low mechanical groan as its cycle stalled midspin. Then, without warning, it vomited an entire load of half-washed garments onto the floor in a steaming heap. As the shirts and socks landed, they seemed to come alive as though enchanted by a residual magic earned from their spin cycle. One scarf slithered across the tiles like a serpent towards the Hufflepuff boy [badger_boy_93] catching his breath and a pair of robes somersaulted in heavy moist heaps towards another Hufflepuff currently with a face full of shirt [WhittyBitty].

In another corner, a washer began to hop in place. With a heavy clang, it pitched forward and launched towels and trousers in a perfect spiral across the room like a Beater’s bat had swatted them―the towels in particular being the perfect house elf size nets [Algamus, Quirly, Tippin] but not exclusively in their direction. Three more soggy and dripped in suds towels were flung across the way towards the haircare conscious Ravenclaw [Fearlessleader19] and one seemed rather adamant in wrapping around her head like a soggy turban.

The foam continued to spread, bubbling up and cascading out from the mouths of the machines and creeping outward like some cheerful slippery tide. The floor seemed to be half-submerged in lukewarm sudsy water as the machines continued their rebellion unchecked. Several pairs of socks ricocheted off the ceiling, a couple of ties spun across the tiles like rogue boomerangs, and shirt sleeves lashed out like tentacles as they soared through the air.

This certainly was no ordinary laundry day.

Who else will fall victim to the wrath of rinse and repeat?!