"I don't think it's such a good--" began Daphne reprimanding her friend but let out a yelp when she was reminded of the shrunken texts hidden in her pockets. Panicking slightly, she reached into her pockets, collecting the miniature form of History of Magic books she had borrowed from the library. It wouldn't do to rip her favorite robes.

It would be catastrophic for her social life. And her dreams of becoming the school's fashion icon. Busy panicking, Daphne didn't notice Celandine put her genius into practice and only looked up when she heard her utter the unlocking incantation.

"Whoa--Celandine!" protested Daphne even as she was pushed inside and the miniature books fell from her palms and unto the ground where they would surely pop up back to their normal size any minute now. Whimpering, Daphne squished her face against the locked door. "I wish I could say I was okay," began Hopton in a trembling voice.

Her knees shook slightly and she tried not to look behind her, lest Professor Truebridge had left a venomous animal to keep guard of his office. "In fact--I think...I should confess now...that I am...sometimes, I don't usually lock doors..."

Was the air stuffy in here? It sure felt stuff. Daphne's cheek, still squished against the door as her palms tried to glue themselves against the wooden material, began to turn a red hue. Her hazel eyes shifted towards the nearest wall, and the girl gulped. Was it her eyes playing tricks on her or was that wall nearer to her than it was two seconds ago. "Ceeeeeel?"

As she extended the vowel, her voice went higher and higher in pitch, ending in an undecipherable squeak.