I'm not the actual owner of goyankeesbooredsox, but I am writing my own story on her account with her loving permission.

None of the Hogwarts characters, settings, spells and/or quotes are mine, they are the lovely creations of J.K. Rowling, and I thank her greatly. Rebecca and Leonie are my imagination at work, however.

START:

Dear Rebecca,

Can you believe it? Our fifth year is finally starting, and I simply couldn't be more excited. I haven't seen Hermione of Lavender in the longest time. I wonder if they've changed. Which brings to my next point: changing. Do you look any weirder, Rebecca? I sure hope you didn't get that nose piercing you promised me about. Something tells me Hogwarts won't appreciate it.

Yes, my hair still has the sea-green streaks running through it, and I'm as blonde as ever. I'm still freakishly tall, and me feet are still too big for my legs. I suppose not all changes are for the better.

Yes, I got my wand replaced this summer. If I remember correctly, both yours and mine were 'accidentally' destroyed last year by an 'unknown cause'. However, you and I know that they blew up in the attempt to hex a certain someone.

I suppose that's all I have to say, which is odd. No, no it's not. I don't talk too much anyway.

-Leonie.

Leonie signed off with a fancy flourish and let her quill drop onto the letter, leaving several large ink splatters. My personal touch, she thought and neatly creased the letter into a star shape. She grabbed a sea-green ribbon and called her midnight black owl over. It landed neatly on the small perch she had set up a couple of days ago and patiently stuck out its leg. Leonie tied the looped the ribbon through a small hole on the top of the letter and tied it around the bird's claw. She stretched over the wooden desk and opened her window, giving the owl a gentle push before leaning back and watching flap off into the distance.

"Our fifth year is starting," she whispered, liking the feel of the words rolling off her tongue. She pulled out the second drawer on her right and pulled out a black box with a simple swirling design to the lid. She set it on her desk and lifted the lid looking at the pictures underneath. Numerous pictures sat piled on top of each other, each of different people. She scavenged through the box for a moment before frowning and pulling out a picture in a silver frame. She frowned as she watched the events happened, but not out of anger.

"I've never seen this before," she whispered, watching as she stood before the camera and rolled her eyes. The small girl in the photo sank through her leg a bit, making her appear smaller, but then the surprising thing happened: a pale haired boy ran up behind her and pecked her on the cheek. He hugged her tightly before running off. "Draco?' she whispered, the memory growing stronger in her mind at the name. "Who snapped this photo?" she wondered, shutting the box but leaving the photo out. She watched intently as the scene played again and again, watching as she constantly got the same shocked expression on her face as Draco scampered away. The sun slowly began to dip below the horizon, and Leonie could hear in the distance her mother calling her for dinner.

"Another day," she mumbled, and stashed the photo in her drawer, leaving her window open in case Rebecca should write back tonight.

Dinner was uneventful, and Leonie ambled upstairs, her belly still rumbling from the lack of nourishment she fed herself tonight. She couldn't help it; she just wasn't hungry. She opened the door and was face to face with Shade, her owl. She flapped angrily in her face, stretching out a thin letter tied to her leg.

"Yeah, yeah," Leonie mumbled, removing the letter and seating herself at her desk. Awfully light for Rebecca, she noticed and unfolded the creamy parchment. Shade hastily pecked at some seeds before falling silent and almost seeming to read over Leonie's shoulder.

Dear Leonie,

I suppose I should write about how fabulous my summer was and such, but I can't. Everything is going wrong. Can't go into details in such an open place. We need to talk.

Signed,

Rebecca, Creator of her tragic life.

Leonie frowned. The last line, we need to talk, had been underlined several times, and the handwriting seemed ferocious and angry. Everything was thick and messy, and the parchment was missing a corner.

Obviously something was going on that she didn't know about 500 miles away where Rebecca sat. And even here, where a photo showed a hidden affection for herself that Leonie never knew of. END Hoep you like! I was trying to add more of Hogwarts into the picture this time, instead of maknig everything shallow and superficial. Starting all over!