Rival To Dye For PV Ami Procoppio Finished

Ami had a feeling that she could possibly be a Bond villain in the future. Maybe not a good one, but she felt evil enough in this moment that through sheer willpower alone, she would be a worthy Bond villain. Or maybe not. Whatever- here, in this moment, she was ready to showcase her evil side... with a little help from her mother, of course. She was evil with a budget, so there were some things that she had to rely on her mother for.

Celynne was a laughably habitual person- even someone as dense and thickheaded as Ami knew that the Ravenclaw was not one to explore the castle. From there, it was easy to dump the sleeping draught into the girl's ever-present coffee mug (a trait that the two of them shared for very different reasons) and slip away, to lurk in the corner of the room, completely unseen by Celynne. She looked like she needed the sleep, to be honest- both of them did. Really, it was entirely plausible that between of them, they were keeping the coffee business completely afloat, considering the sheer amount that they consumed. They drank the bitter liquid for different reasons, of course, but they both drank an insane amount nonetheless.

Even without the draught, Celynne looked out of it. Her attention was clearly elsewhere as she struggled through her homework, and phenomenon that Ami had yet to experience. When she had been friends with Celynne, she had never really seen Celynne get... distracted while doing her homework. Homework, believe it or not, was fun for her, a concept that Ami struggled to grasp and accept. It had never been a struggle for Celynne to finish her homework on time, but now... well, maybe 'struggling' was too light of a word.

Finally, finally, Celynne fell asleep- slumped over her desk, Ami thought she almost looked pitiful, the expression on her face unclouded, her physique looking smaller than usual- it almost made her feel bad about what she was going to do next. As quickly and non-suspiciously as she could, she shifted the small and slightly girl into her arms, carrying her bridal-style into the girls' bathroom, gently setting her down in the chair positioned in front of the sink. With a sigh, she glanced down at the Asian girl with a small shake of her head. "Oh, Gray..." she murmured, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "I'm sorry."

With that, she got to work. Ami was no stranger to bleach and hair dye- how many times, before she had been exposed to magic, had she been coerced into dying strips of Thomas' hair crazy colors, or even her own mother's? A vast array of tubs, bottles, tubes, and brushes lay spread across the various sinks, either lifted from her own dormitory (living in the dorm dedicated to Tonks had its uses) or sent for from her bedroom via her mother. However, even though Celynne was completely knocked out, she didn't have a lot of time on her hands to finish this.

She draped a ratty towel around Celynne's shoulders, carefully leaning her head back until all of her hair was pooled in the bottom of the sink. Mixing the developer and the bleach powder in a separate bowl, Ami applied the mixture to the ends of her hair, soaking the ends in a rough ombré that ended about halfway up her hair. It wasn't good, which was the whole point, and she found that she had to restrain herself from doing a half-decent job. Wrapping the bleach-covered ends with a shower cap, she sat in the corner, slaving away at some homework while the bleach did its job.

What a strange reversal of roles! Ami, doing homework diligently, in the corner, perched precariously on the window ledge scrawling quickly across the parchment, trying to get as much of it done as possible. On the other hand, Celynne was just knocked out, although it wasn't necessarily by choice. The two of them remained like this for a good while, Ami checking Celynne's hair every ten minutes or so to see if it had lightened at all. After a good 40 to 45 minutes and a thorough rinse, her hair was finally light enough, blonde enough for Ami to do something with it.

And now, the chaos began.

From her dorm, she had brought a tube of very permanent hair dye- slytherin-green hair dye, a hair dye that would look absolutely horrible. Reminded of just why she was doing this, a wicked grin crept onto her face, fuelled with thoughts of revenge. With a manic laugh, she started to rub the dye onto Celynne's new, blonde hair, rather pleased with herself. Without rhyme nor reason, she slathered the ends with the eye-catching dye, prepared to let it sit for another half an hour. It was here that things began to go wrong.

Not even twenty minutes into the waiting period, it was clear that Celynne was beginning to wake up. Small twitches, uneven breathing... panicking, Ami rinsed out the green dye in Celynne's hair as quickly as possible, realizing to her dismay only about half of Celynne's hair truly ended up green; a good portion was rather faint, or still completely blonde. Whatever- this would have to do.  Not bothering to pat her hair dry, Ami swept all of the tubes and buckets and other assorted materials into a bag, and moved Celynne from the chair into one of the stalls- when she came to, it would seem that she had dragged herself into the bathroom and had collapsed in one of the stalls.

Pushing the chair against the wall to be found by some other girl who would, without a doubt, puzzle over it, Ami would flee the scene, not wanting to be there when Celynne fully woke up.

Quae fuerant vitia mores sunt.

The smell of chemicals and damp stone roused her, dragging her from the depths like a serpent breaching the surface of the sea. Her eyes opened first, green and brown eyes blinking owlishly in the dim light, the blurred details in her vista gradually sharpening into distinct grains of color. Then she became acutely aware of the soreness punching into her neck and back hard, and sat up with a defined cringe.

Public bathrooms sucked, yes, even the ones in Hogwarts. Maybe especially, she didn't know. The ones at Oxford were pretty nice, if a bit old sometimes, and her personal bathrooms were awesome. Hogwarts' bathrooms, on the other hand, were cold, damp, unkempt, and often had disgustingly wet floors. Or maybe she was just too used to living in luxury. At least they didn't smell, probably the result of some charm. Ravenclaw's Dorms had their own private bathrooms, architecturally beautiful ones embellished in shining crystal and glimmering glass, always kept pristine and in top condition. So when Cel recognized her surroundings, she wasn't the most pleased.  

Her displeasure only grew as she confusedly recounted the events of... how long ago had it been? How long had she been asleep? Not too long, clearly, otherwise someone would've found her already, but it could've been anywhere from a few minutes to twenty-four hours. Not a lot of people would really miss her existence for less than a day, honestly. Seriously, though, what just happened? She definitely wouldn't have fallen asleep on her own, and she remembered tasting something strange in her coffee... she wouldn't put it past Dorian to do something like this 'for her health,' but Dorian wouldn't be able to get her into the Girls' Lavatory. Something seemed... off about the situation. And where was her stuff?  

Wincing at how the creak of the stall's door scraped past her eardrums not unlike the screech of a chair's legs against the floor of the classrooms she was so accustomed to, Cel pitched herself forward onto her legs, shaking out the numbness crawling through her bones. It looked like she was alone in the restroom, no sounds of anyone washing her hands or whatever, not that she expected anyone to be there. Stifling her yawn, she glanced up at the mirror as she ran a hand through her hair— 

Her... green hair?

The young witch froze in her tracks, eyes widening, jaw dropping open slightly. Even blinked a few times, actually, confused at what exactly she was looking at. Her hands dropped away from her hair, then returned to touch it, combing her fingers through the strands on the side of her face. Was this just something messed up with the mirror? She closed two fingers around a thin strand, pulling it across her vision. Unfamiliar, alien green hair greeted her, tangible on her skin as she rolled it between her fingertips.

What the hell.

Slowly her gaze raised again to the mirror, ignoring the incredulous look on her face in favor of tracing over the strands of emerald cascading down her shoulders with their trademark wave. As she tilted her head in futile attempts to see the back, she noticed that—well, her hair had been bleached well, but the green dye? It looked spotty, missing parts where spots of pale, bleached hair shone through. Questions exploded through her mind, each query setting off a billion more, but she shut them away for now.

Surprisingly, though, it... actually didn't look too bad. She'd had the tips of her hair dyed teal once, but the ends had been chopped off as soon as Parker had let her. Dyed hair gave people an excuse to look at her and talk to her, two things that made her uncomfortable, the prior under extended periods of time, of course. The color might have looked terrible on some people, but it actually fit her relatively well, something she wouldn't have expected, and although the spottiness was clearly not intended to look nice, it seemed to blend together okay—kind of making a weird balayage effect. Except not really. It looked... artsy, because pretty much everything could be called modern art these days, right? Honestly, her hair looked nice just brushed. She was pretty sure that this was the nicest it'd looked since the last time Svana had tore a brush through it till her scalp felt like it was going to fall off.

But the questions—they returned, full force. Who would have done this? And why this color? Like, sure, maybe it looked awesome, but anyone who knew her should be fully aware that doing something like this without asking her first, without badering her for months and writing full essays on it, would basically be bringing down her wrath on them for the rest of their lives. Only someone who knew it'd upset her and wanted to upset her, honestly, would do it, because it wasn't really about what she looked like—maybe a bit about that—but because, well, who would feel entitled enough to just assume she'd be okay with it? Anyway, you'd have to really want her to hate—

—Oh, that hag.

"Ami!" she yelled as the lavatory door slammed shut behind her, significantly loudly and honestly with a lot more force behind it than necessarily expected given her small stature. Cel caught the flame of red hair against the empty brownish grey stone of the hallway ahead of her and began stalking toward her.

There was a certain type of thrill that came with doing something so very wrong. It was probably what normal people called adrenaline, but with Ami, it was more akin to the feeling associated with walking into a surprise birthday party. That, and the absurd amount of bleach she used on Celynne's hair was probably messing with her senses significantly. She was more than a little bit light-headed as she fled on foot down the corridors, cackling with delight to herself. The magnitude of what she'd just done (dying her worst enemy's hair without consent!) was beginning to sink in, and it was clear that the hysteria was starting to take its hold. Celynne was probably going to slay her alive when she awo-

Speak of the devil. She could already hear Celynne thundering down the hall, the elephant. Ami had absolutely no regrets about what she'd done- it was only payback. Karma, right? But the sound of the Ravenclaw's voice only fuelled her anger. Her feet pounded into the pavement even more vigorously than before, motivated by the knowledge that Celynne would never be able to catch up with her. She wasn't exactly known for being a very athletic student, so it wasn't long before Ami shook her off her tail.

Crashing through the door to the common room like a tornado, Ami was simply a whirlwind of chaotic energy. Her anger at Celynne for being related to pureblood scum had reached its boiling point, and her feelings had quickly pushed off the lid and bubbled over the sides, escalating things as she normally did. She felt absolutely no remorse about her actions against Celynne, and fully believed that she had only done what was fair and just. What Celynne's new family member had done to her was terrible, unspeakable. When she woke up in the morning, she was faced with those terrible, horrific scars that would constantly remind her of that night. Little did she know, however, that those scars would benefit her in the long run. There was certainly something to be said for having a physical reminder to keep one humble. There would certainly be no forgetting about the time her ego had simply grown too big for Ami, not when she would have to bear the literal scars for the rest of her life.

Maybe, in the end, this would be all worth it. Maybe in five, ten, fifteen years from now, she would look back upon her years at Hogwarts and laugh at her younger self, and how melodramatic she had been. But for now, Ami was still a child, and she still had a lot to learn. No time like the present, right?

Ami exits the thread.