Starlequin's slimy skin paled to a whiter shade of green as he learned that Chelemar had indeed been counted among their enemies. Fortunate enough that he'd chosen to forego his own flawed instincts and trust in the judgement of more learned wizards. But then to find out that he'd helped to vote a bloody Dementor into the position of Minister of Magic! It was like some sort of twisted nightmare, and he was beginning to think that there was practically no one he could count on in this blasted and befuddled place; certainly he'd recieved no offers of assistance from anyone to help him slip this dratted Animorpheus hex after three whole days, and in truth he was beginning to grow tired of being ignored on the sidelines. Okay, so he was incompetent; so he was inexperienced; so he was probably already a laughingstock among anyone at the Ministry who could so much as spell 'casts', let alone cast spells. He still had feelings, darn it! And if they thought--
Star looked 'round the table in confusion before catching sight of the house elf that seemed to apparate out of nowhere (well, more than likely he'd apparated out of the kitchens) pushing a wheeled cart with all manner of sweets.
"I said, excuse me. Yes, you, the small green fellow in the hat. Would you care for some refreshment?" The house elf asked, gesturing toward the cart. Starlequin's heart practically soared with joy; he'd been noticed! By... well, by a house elf, but that was something, at least; a member of Ministry staff was voluntarily speaking to him! They didn't talk to just anyone, after all! Except for... well, guests, and... tourists, he supposed... and probably wizards who accidentally apparated into the wrong office or took a wrong Floo channel. But it was a start!
The young wizard drew himself up as tall as he could (almost 5"!) and puffed out his throat with dignity. 'I would like a cup of tea, please,' he wanted to say, 'with a spot of lemon and perhaps a pair of cinnamon biscuits.' Except... that wasn't what actually came out. Instead, it sounded rather more like: "Ribbit, ribbit." Which, naturally, only served to momentarily confuse the beleaguered house elf. But just momentarily.
"Right, then. Two chocolate frogs," the elf muttered as he plucked a small pair of paper cartons from a bottom shelf cart, tore open their perforated tops, and placed them in front of Starlequin. The wheels squeaked briefly as the elf continued his rounds, and Starlequin despaired as he watched his last hope for salvation and a relaxing beverage totter off. A loud thump, then another, sounded behind him, and Star turned to see the two animated sweets he'd inadvertantly ordered had wrested themselves free of their papery prisons. Starlequin's first thought was that candy portion sizes these days were dangerously out of control. And from the expressions on their wide, chocolatey faces, they didn't look very friendly. Certainly they didn't appear amenable to being eaten by something smaller than themselves.
"*R-r-ribbit?" ("Can we talk about this?") Starlequin croaked, slowly backing toward the edge of the table. The two hulking frogs advanced on him slowly, violent intentions written in their cocoa colored eyes. "Ribbit. Ribbbiiitttt!" ("Guess not. Geronimoooo!") Star shouted as he turned and leaped off the table to the floor, his tiny butt bumping softly against the thick shag carpet. The choco-frogs landed behind him almost immediately, however, and Starlequin barely managed to jump out of the line of fire as their tongues darted out at him like slingshots.
For anyone who cared to watch, the next several minutes were even more thrilling than usual for the offices of the Ministry of Magic. Starlequin was hounded all over the room by the enchanted treats, leading his pursuers on a desperate chase in search of sanctuary and narrowly evading their brutish tongues. Equally dangerous were the careless footfalls of harried mages; fortunately, the young wizard managed to crush one of his would-be assailants under the careless tapping of a particularly sleek open toed pump. The remaining chocolate frog, now driven by revenge, stepped up its efforts to capture young Starlequin and chased him all the way back across the offices until he spotted his only hope for rescue: the hem of miss Sasha's robes! Star hopped for his life toward the kindly witch's feet and jumped with abandon into the folds of her robe, then climbed his way up the soft fabric and curtained himself away in safety.
After stealing a peek downward at the confected amphibian, now sorely nonplussed at the loss of its target, Starlequin heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way upward along the back of the woman's robes. He desperately hoped he was making the right decision as he tapped one tiny arm against her shoulder, giving a friendly, froggy wave. Assuming the witch reacted in a calmer, more rational manner than Starlequin really had any right to expect, the hexed-off little magus would perch on the nape of the woman's neck and await the arrival of his new suspect: MCsc. Something about the Scotsman's behavior the day before had set his froggy senses tingling, and Starlequin resolved to put a webbed finger on it.