It all started innocently enough. The Year 10 Snapchat group, “Millfield Legends,” was created for students to share homework help, memes, and the occasional low-quality photo of the canteen’s mystery meat. But one fateful Monday morning, chaos erupted.

Mr. Thompson, the school’s tech-savvy IT teacher, burst into the staff room, phone in hand, pale as the printer paper he clutched during his many “No Printing Without Permission!” lectures.

“We’ve got a… situation,” he announced, voice trembling.

“What kind of situation?” asked Mrs. Patel, head of English, sipping her tea.

“Snapchat,” Thompson whispered, as if uttering Voldemort’s name.

The staff collectively groaned. Snapchat had been a thorn in their sides for years, but this time was different. Someone had posted something in the group chat that shouldn’t have been there. Something… inappropriate.

By first period, the rumor mill was in full swing.

“It’s a pic of Mr. Jenkins’ bald spot!” one student whispered in math class.

“No, it’s a video of Chloe doing the worm in her PE kit,” another claimed in geography.

The truth was far worse. It was a photo of the school’s beloved mascot, Percy the Peacock—a taxidermied bird that lived in the library—wearing nothing but a strategically placed sock and a pair of sunglasses. Below the image was the caption: “Percy after hours. Who wore it better?”

The faculty scrambled to contain the situation. Mrs. Patel suggested banning phones altogether. Mr. Jenkins advocated for a full-blown investigation. Meanwhile, Mr. Thompson paced nervously outside the headteacher’s office, muttering about IP tracking.

Inside, Headteacher Ms. Greenwood was interrogating the usual suspects: Chloe (of worm-dancing fame), Ben (class clown), and Hannah (the school’s unofficial Snapchat queen).

“Who started this?” she demanded, holding up a printed screenshot of Percy’s scandalous photo. “This is serious! Percy is a symbol of this school’s values.”

Chloe stared at the floor. Ben stifled a laugh. Hannah raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Miss, maybe Percy shouldn’t have a sock drawer if he didn’t want this to happen.”

Greenwood pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing for an early retirement.

The real culprit turned out to be Liam, the quiet boy from Year 8 who no one suspected. “I just thought it’d be funny,” he confessed when caught, the sock still tucked in his blazer pocket as evidence.

Liam was sentenced to write a formal apology to the school and spend a week in detention. Percy was returned to his glass case, now under 24/7 CCTV surveillance.

The Snapchat group was disbanded—only for a new one, “Millfield Legends 2.0,” to pop up five minutes later, with strict rules: “No socks on Percy. Ever.”

As for Percy? He became a local legend, with students creating memes, T-shirts, and even a charity fundraiser in his honor. Millfield High never quite recovered, but the Snapchat scandal would go down in history as the funniest thing to ever happen in a place where mystery meat reigned supreme.