I groaned in distress where I lay on top of the table. My mama always told me I was a glutton for punishment. I am beginning to think she was right. Maybe I should start from the beginning?
I was wandering the halls dodging students' feet - you would think that they would have learned by now to watch their feet by now for beagles prancing near them - when my stomach let out a loud growl.
Being the nosy creature I am I had already found where the kitchens were a long time ago and started to head in that direction. The House Elves were probably fixing the Christmas feast but I could probably get a snack from them in the meantime.
I get to the door and then I realize a problem; how am I going to tickle the pear as a dog? Changing back to my human form is way too much work when I am so hungry.
I decide to put my back paws on the frame and tickle the pear with my tail. It worked! The pear let out its little giggle and opened the frame, promptly knocking me off balance and making me do a back-flip, landing on my back.
I shake it off, more interested in getting food then checking for injuries and walk into the kitchen. There is not a single House Elf in sight.
There is however a large Christmas spread in front of me. I am sure the House Elves wouldn't mind if I take a couple nibbles.
A couple nibbles quickly turned into a plate, which quickly turned into a platter, which turned into a couple platters, which turned into way more than I can count.
That is how I found myself laying on the table, stuffed fuller than a Thanksgiving turkey. I don't have to move, right?
I didn't realize just what I had done until I heard a House Elf let out a gasp. "Beagle be eating all the feast. Beagle's be in so much trouble."
Oops. I belch and let out a whimper as that caused me to move too much. I hope she means that I am in trouble with my stomach because I most certainly am.
The next thing I know I am being lifted into her arms. If I wasn't so sick I might be impressed by how deceptively strong House Elves are. She pops us into the hospital wing. If my face could turn green it would I think. She lays me in the bed and magics a rope around my leg to the bed rail. Like I would be trying to move anyway.
"Bad Beagle," she scolds before she pops away.
Why do I get the feeling that they will seal me in my room or whatever room I am in the morning of the feast from now on?