There is a generally recognized part of one's life where a certain madness takes hold and, in retrospective, one cannot fathom what one was thinking at the time. In our world we generally think of the youthful sixties as the crazy ones, in no small part to the foibles of figures such as Borton Fiddlesticks who set about cross breeding rabbits with Chocolate frogs then let them loose on the world. Even now, five centuries after the Ministry caught the last breeding pair, Muggles still celebrate Easter.

I however hold that there is another stretch of madness in our lives that we don't recognize. Possibly we bury it through half remembered shame or maybe we don't notice it since our children are away at school for so long. But no professor would ever claim things are sane at Hogwarts. The muggles do recognize this period and have named it "adolescence".

Here is the story of mine.

I don't claim I'll do an accurate recounting. For one a hundred and eighty years weigh down my memories of those few years I spent at school. Also there are moments that even now, powerful that I am, would instinctively drive me to curl up in shame should my peers learn of them. We matriarchs play a careful game of power and so appearances must be preserved.

I do however possess an old journal of mine from back then. Whenever I can decipher my scrawl and diplomacy does not forbid such I will try to reconstruct my tale. May you, dear reader, find insight therein.

My name is Ebony "Dark'ness" Dementia and I was a seventh year Hogwarts student. As the third child and second daughter of the Raven family I was betrothed to the Churchills and thus given a vampiric name. The alliance was a shrewd move by my father: my loss would not imperil the Raven's lineage and the vampire clans were out of favor since the wars and so more generous in their offers. Such has benefited the Ravens throughout history: while we do not share the limelight of the Malfoys we have endured despite the regular harvest of dark lords our country produces.

Though I liked to pretend otherwise, I was still very much human at the time (and so able to attend Hogwarts). I had a pale complexion and wore my hair long, both tipped and streaked with highlights made with Dr Iromahou's fifty color colloid. My clothes were courtesy of the easily confundable clerk at Hot Topic downhill of the Raven estate. Not that muggle clothing was allowed in the corridors; the only time I got away with not wearing a robe was during the Triwizard ball.

I think it all started on a Saturday. Me and Willow had nicked Sacrilegious Seances from the forbidden section of the library and were impatient to try it out. The problem was where. Getting caught in the middle of a seance was grounds for suspension not to mention otherworldly repercussions if the warnings were to be believed. But today the weather had turned to that particularly miserable mix of rain and snow proper to Scotland that no-one sane would venture into. That wouldn't be stopping us however, a windbreaker charm was easy fare for a Seventh year so we'd be dry and have the place to ourselves.

I'd spent the day waiting for dusk to fall and deciding what to wear. In the end I settled for a black affair with pink trimming and black makeup that would make the Weird Sisters proud. At seven I met up with Willow in the common room. The plan was as follows: Willow would go down to dinner, make up some excuse for my absence then grab a plate for us to share. Meanwhile, I'd sneak outside with the book and finite a few floating candles along the way for the ritual.

Ten minutes in I was two candles short of thirteen but was having trouble aiming with the drafts winding through the castle. Not wanting to encounter a quick eater on their way back I took a staircase up to the seventh floor corridor. Things were calmer up here despite the wind being louder, go figure, so I had the last two candles in moments. Victorious, I scurried down the empty corridor looking over my shoulder for anyone when I slammed into something.

"Uh wha…" I said, half dazed, looking up from the floor. Draco Malfoy was looking down at me.
"Oh, hey Ebony"
"What's up Draco?" I managed, nervously looking about. Luckily the book was concealed by my robes.
"N-Nothing" he said, "you really shouldn't run in the corridors, I might have to dock points from my own house."

With that he walked away. Relieved at a near escape from a prefect I picked up my candles and went down outside.