You cross your arms and explain to the firebug about wizarding matters, and demand to know who almost set you on fire. One of the bright yellow blobs takes off his helmet to reveal a boy in thick glasses. He looks in your general direction, then squeaks and takes off running before his classmates dog-pile him.
The dust settles. The teaching assistant pries them apart with brute force, and finally reveals the kid, sans hair, slightly scuffed and bleeding.
"Porkchop, Rope. Rope, Porkchop. Now, Porkchop, we've went over this. Don't you remember M. Bay's Explosion Theorum?"
The boy, who is not at all fat, looks at you, then looks at the ground and mumbles something. The teaching assistant looks displeased, and shakes his/her head before dismissing the class back to their area with a wave of the hand.
"If you like, we can send him to the kitchens. You certainly seemed to spend half your time there."
It occurs to you who this person is - Irritating Nemesis!
Roll(1d20)+1:
17,+1
Total:18
You suddenly realize that the fireball was, in fact, aimed well. He's done things like this before; clearly, he is getting more careful about his random attacks. Stupid competitive wizards - it's not YOUR fault you were clearly better suited for Plot Magic than he was.
"So, you're the one he wanted, eh? I could never understand why he wouldn't trust a task like this to a Tyrell. Hmph. What do you want
here? The headmaster isn't here. Are you trying to learn how to be a nuke mage? I may even deign to tell you a few secrets. After all, the more you kill before your inevitable death via incompetence, the less
I have to deal with when they send
me in to fix your messes."