You all spin around, caught by surprise. Standing in front of the office door, Head Boy and Head Girl badges gleaming in the lamplight, are Will and Romilly.
"Oh shit," Michelle says mildly, making no effort to conceal herself, nor to lower the three-seat couch that she's currently holding above her head.
"What are you all doing here?" demands Romilly. There are two bright pink patches on her cheeks, steadily deepening to red. "This is trespass. This is actual criminal behavior."
There's a frozen moment where no one says anything. It's hard to argue with that assessment.
"She's right," Will says, a stern look in his eye. It's probably more effective when not faced with a menagerie of vampires, werewolves, specters, and zombies, but you have to give him credit: he doesn't seem at all nervous. "Either I hear an explanation now, or you're in real trouble."
You take a moment to consider what these two might classify as "real trouble." You imagine, based on the evidence, that it's something less worrying than a pit to hell.
The question is, what now?