She shook her head at her foolishness. There was no time for that. She had a mission to do, and it could not be delayed by simple games. If she failed, she would replaced, and disposed of. Her master was not known for kind hearted acts, or swift, merciful killings. Her death would be long and mind numbing. But she would not fail.

Her eyes flickered suspicously to the stairway, watching for any tell tale signs of a spy. Only the soft sound ofher breath could be heard as she walked to the large fireplace, embers still warm from the earlier fire. Carefully she searched the cracks in the hearth, her petite fingers prying for an opening. Candlesticks were removed from their places, proving only that there were no hidden switches beneath them.

She fumed, her dark eyes sparking dangerously. She had been assured that her part would be simple, that the old broad who hid the keys to her masters success was a fool, and that the new headmistress was even more of one. But if that were the case, why was this so difficult?

A noise on the couch alerted her senses, and she spun on her heel. While her dark features and clothes blended nicely with the background, it would be entirely too easy to spot her if a student arrived. But the noise was only a pet cat, let loose from the dorms above. Behind her, footsteps sounded, as a student, no doubt the cat's owner, made his or her way down the stairs.

She hissed quietly, taking no pleasure in the cats violent response to her actions. Quickly, she grabbed a burning ember from the fire, ignoring the sharp pain it caused in her hands, and ground it into the painting hanging above the fire place. Sparks settled into the alcoholic paints, and flames lept up the portriat, causing the young lady pictured to squeal in terror as the painting was consumed in fire.

She smiled at her handywork and fled the common room. There would be time enough for search later.

I was having a good dream, she muttered incoherantly, searching the darkness for the tell-tale glowing eyes that would give away the meower's presence. Why cats had to pick the middle of the night to roam around, trying out their vocals, was something that had always puzzled her.

The eyes crept closer, and the cat lept on the bed. She raised a hand to shoo it away, but it bit her. "Ow." she hissed, trying to slap the cat and missing. It persisted in its efforts to drive her from her bed.

"All right, all right, I'm coming." Slipping on warm fuzzy slippers to protect aginst the night chill, she swung out of bed. She hugged her night gown to her, and followed the cat.

It desended the stairs, and Vivi followed, drawn by its persistness. A noise sounded from below, and she hastened her steps. Finally she rounded the corner of the dorm stairs case, and gasped. "Oh. Oh oh oh no."

Flames were sprouting from a portrait of a young lady stitching a sampler beside a window. The lady's gown was quickly catching, the full skirts of pink lace exploding with fire. Shrieks filled the room, and over the din the cat still meowed, his plainative cry mixing with the painting's angonized screams. Above her Vivi could hear people stumbling out of their beds, awakened by the noise.

Running down the stairs, rather than up, Vivi grabbed a vase containing carnations. She threw the flowers away, and splashed the remaining water on the portrait. Steam hissed up, but it wasn't enough.

The fire continued to spread. "Help! Someone, help!"

Cathy looked back at the fire and prayed that she didn't ruin that beautiful picture. She said in a loud voice, "Waterio!!!" Large amounts of water came out of her wand as it quickly put out the large fire. Cathy put her wand down and looked at the picture. The women was crying softly because her arm was burned, but it wasn't nothing that couldn't be replaced. She rubbed her wand on the edges and the burn marks went away.

Cathy stepped back and looked at the girl. "Are you okay? Who started this?"

She gazed at the sobbing portrait, grey eyes wide, and curious. Frowning a little, she whispered, "Who would want to burn down the commonroom?"

The sudden thought of being charred to a crisp while still asleep and dreaming of Quidditch made her wince.

I'll never mistrust a cat again.

Cathy put her wand in her bag and wrapped her bathrobe closer to her. She was started to get really nervous that something was really bad was going to happen very soon...

She tugged her powder blue robe closer around her, as though warding off an unseen chill. She took a few baby steps toward the stairs, mumbling, "I'm... I'm gonna go back to bed. I don't think the person will try again tonight."

She sat down gently on the couch as she thought about it. Who would do something like this? She sat up quickly as she gathered up her stuff and went to her room.