Wind blew softly through the deep navy curtains of the Ravenclaw common room, leaving a peaceful whistle in the empty corners of the tower. Hogwarts was bustling with excited students, traversing from class to class with their friends. Everyone was eager to get through the day so they could finally enjoy their weekend off from school. With the start of the new school year, many students found themselves longing for the same leisure time they had during the summer break. Once the day's classes were complete, a glorious forty-eight hours lay ahead of each witch and wizard.

On this particular friday, one student had apparently decided to begin her weekend early: Cleo Fields sat on the floor, hunched over her studies high in Ravenclaw tower. Heavy, ancient books were propped open on the floor beside the girl's bed, blank parchment stacked on her left and filled rolls of notes on her right. Her sickly white hands were splotched with ink that she had half-heartedly tried to wipe off on her dark tights, leaving faint black streaks down her legs. Photographs and drawings of dark, ghostly creatures littered the floor around where she sat. Hunched over and deep in her work, the outside world barely existed to her and that was how she liked it. At this moment, she was rather certain her own studies were of more importance than the History of Magic class she was supposed to be attending. After a mysterious cloaked creature stopped the Hogwarts Express on its journey to school grounds, Cleo had thrown herself head-on into research on Dementors. She took notes, read books, and wrote essays on the subject instead of going to her less interesting classes. Cleo was a focused, passionate student- but only when the subject interested her.

Developing a hand cramp, the girl leaned back and surveyed her work so far. It was nowhere near complete, but she had been at it for hours and it was already noon. She dragged her eyes over her small corner of the dormitory and examined the mess that had accumulated in her living space. Books and papers and ink all over the floor, her studies. Beneath the shadowy photographs, homework and other research topics she had abandoned. There were muddy footprints on some older pages, and a tear in a class syllabus for Arithmancy from when she had gotten out of bed and slipped, ruining the handout. Padma, one of her roommates, sometimes tried to break the ice by joking that the pile of work on the floor was so permanent it was Cleo's version of a rug.

On her desk: scattered school supplies, a few small objects she brought from home. Cleo peered over her shoulder, ensuring she was alone, and threw her pale hair into a messy excuse for a ponytail. She briskly drew the curtain on her window back to reveal five climbing plants, each with an eerie pink tinge to the leaves. Jester Vine. All five looked exceptionally healthy. Cleo was making nine galleons a week selling the leaves to her peers, shrugging emphatically when she was asked why the fifth year Hufflepuffs had such dopey looks on their faces.

At dinner, Cleo was so enthralled in her book she hardly noticed those around her until a name in conversation stuck out.

"He escaped from Azkaban, he could be anywhere by now.."

"Even Hogwarts?"

"Obviously not Hogwarts, think of the protection Dumbledore has us under."

"I don't know, if Sirius Black was able to escape from Azkaban…"

An uneasy feeling settled around the long Ravenclaw house table. Cleo was sitting among her housemates, and as usual was ignoring each of them- until now.

Luna, one of Cleo's roommates, spoke up: "Hogwarts is safe." Opinions shot out across the table and the thirteen-year-olds erupted into discussion. How safe were they, really? How dangerous was Sirius Black? Luna noticed Cleo's rare attention on the conversation.

"Don't worry, Cleo. I think we're as safe at Hogwarts as we've always been." She gently laid her hand on Cleo's shoulder, causing her to flinch.

"Not much to count on then, is it?" Heads turned. Cleo continued: "Last year we had death threats written on the wall in blood, and kids were petrified. How safe can this place be?" It came out snarkier than she had intended; many students looked down and changed the conversation, embarrassed and anxious. Cleo swallowed, a sinking feeling making itself at home deep in her belly. She excused herself from the table, clearing her plate with a wave of her wand as she left the dining hall with her head down.

On her way down the corridors, she saw someone that made her evening even more socially stressful: Cedric Diggory. The sixth-year was tall, charming, and popular: Cleo was truthfully embarrassed to have fallen for someone at all, let alone the most handsome student at Hogwarts. Noticing Cleo, he flashed a toothy smile and walked over, two or three Hufflepuffs trailing behind him. The way he walked was attractive, for god's sake. Cleo thought about how every female student she knew of had the hots for Cedric. It hurt how far out of reach he was.

Cleo was, in general, socially inept. She was rarely a part of conversation, and when she was she always said something stupid or strange. Most of the time, she didn't realize she had said something wrong until she looked up and her classmates had their jaws dropped, or they were laughing at her. In her third year at Hogwarts, Cleo had long grown used to this pattern. People didn't like her. She was used to it, she never imagined it being any other way. After all, you can't read with other people, she reasoned. It's a one-person activity. How would she get her research done if she had friends? One of the big questions of her life was whether her unsociability was a common side effect to growing into her teens, or just a permanent personality flaw.

Cedric's rosy cheeks made him look especially boyish and coy.

"Cleo!" She tensed up when she heard her name come from his mouth. "Can I talk to you a second?" His friends dispersed and Cleo was left alone with Cedric. She had to tilt her head upwards to see his face. His eyes glinted at her under thick eyebrows. He pushed strands of wavy hair back with his left hand and they fell back on his forehead immediately after.

He looked soft. He looked comfortable- like Cleo could fall asleep on his chest and wake feeling more refreshed than she ever had before. She wanted to wear his sweaters and sit beside him at Quidditch matches. Most of all, she hated herself for liking him, for allowing herself to feel vulnerable. Human connection seemed so out of reach.

"Here's your things back," He reached into his robes and produced three rolled-up star charts: Astronomy homework. "I only copied a few things, don't worry. Getting help from a third year.. I definitely got laughed at. We'll see who's laughing when I get an Outstanding!" Cedric laughed good-naturedly, and Cleo felt the rock in her belly get heavier. "I mean, no offense, of course." He tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes were fixed on her shoes.

"No problem." She replied quietly, taking the charts and darting her gaze from his face to the floor to his lips to the floor to his hair to her hands to the floor.

"You should be an astronomer someday." He grinned. "See you!" And he was gone. Cleo let out a long breath and made her way back to her dormitory. It was days like these, she thought, that made her hesitant to leave Ravenclaw tower every morning. Things were easier when the only person she had to deal with was herself.

That night Cleo tip-toed out of bed and pulled a large woolen sweater over her bony shoulders. She tucked her wand into the waistband of her skirt and thrust a small pouch of Jester Vine leaves into her sweater pocket. Cleo often went out past curfew and sat by the lake, but she had never gone out this late to meet someone. An air of uneasiness settled around her- she slipped on her boots and left.

The corridors were dark and eerie. Cleo had learned from her past mistakes and kept her wand safely at her side, between her skirt and her waist. The paintings that lined the walls of the castle would not hesitate to rat students out for being out of bed past curfew. Cleo made her way through the dark and slipped into the girls' lavatory. The toilet was flooded, as always. She waded through inches of water to the mirror and assessed her reflection. Her white-blonde hair was stringy and hardly reached her collarbones; her brown eyes were wide awake despite the hour. Her skin appeared pasty. She pinched her cheeks hard to make them blush.

"Chloe, Chloe, Chloe!" Cleo jumped nearly out of her skin, grabbing either side of the sink in fear. A ghostly blur swam through the air, window to window, and took a seat next to Cleo's sink.

"Myrtle. It's not Chloe, it's Cleo." Myrtle cackled, throwing her head back in amusement. Cleo had met Myrtle the week before, and unfortunately had forgotten that this was her lavatory. She was one of the least pleasant residents of Hogwarts, Cleo had found.

"I know that." She stated snarkily. "What on earth is dear Cleo doing out of bed so late?"

Cleo sighed. "I wasn't here." Myrtle chortled, her voice ringing across the tall walls of the washroom. "Your secret's safe with me!" She grinned cheekily and floated back to her stall.

"I'm sure," Cleo shook her head. With a last glance in the mirror, she turned to leave.

"Wait, Chloe! One more thing!" Myrtle could barely speak, she was laughing so hard. She rolled around in the air as if on the floor.

"What?" Cleo snapped.

"If Sirius Black gets you.. I won't say I told you so!" Myrtle giggled incessantly, and Cleo whipped around and trudged through the water back into the eerie velvet-black corridors of the castle at night.

A soft wind danced with Cleo's pale waves. She looks across the lake, the surface nearly the blackest thing she had ever seen. She missed Brighton, and she missed the sea, but she didn't miss being home. A lake would have to suffice for now.

Minutes passed. They should have been here ages ago, she thought to herself, annoyed. Did they think she had all night? As if on cue, a quiet voice came from behind Cleo, startling her. She nearly lost her footing on the shore of the lake, the stones beneath her boots making her feet hurt.

"Chloe?" The voice called out. From behind a cluster of trees, a young boy tiptoed onto the shore until he was a metre away from Cleo.

She couldn't believe her eyes. This boy was younger than her. His face was round and his eyes fearful. He had a bird's nest of hair on top of his head.

"Why'd you wear robes?" Cleo snapped. "If they see you they'll know you're a Gryffindor. How dumb are you?" She normally wouldn't have been so blunt- she later suspected it was his youth that caused her to talk to him in such a way. She normally sold Jester Vine, or JV, to students at least in fifth year or older. The edible plant wasn't exactly harmful, but definitely not allowed at Hogwarts, either. The younger the witch or wizard, the more likely to get Cleo caught.

"I-I'm sorry.." He mumbled, trying to look absolutely anywhere but at Cleo.

"Don't you know what this is?" She interrogated him, patting her bulging pocket. He stared at her. He was being weirdly quiet, and Cleo began to feel even more uneasy. Cleo held out her hand impatiently. The boy ruffled through his pockets, dropping his wand on the stones at one point. He collected a fistful of change and deposited it into Cleo's outstretched hand. Four galleons, two sickles. Cleo took the pouch of Jester Vine from her pocket, picked out five severed leaves, and thrust them into the young boy's sweaty palm. He stared at them with a mixed expression of fear and interest.

Cleo stared at him. He stared back.

"Well? Get lost!" She hissed. The boy clenched his fist closed and walked back into the trees, embarrassingly anxious. Cleo shook her head. When it was older kids, she didn't care. It was something about the boy that was so inexperienced and awkward it made Cleo cringe.

She folded the remaining few leaves back into the pouch and made her way back to the castle, hands in pockets. She was thinking about how ready for bed she was when she heard a sharp voice so close behind her she jumped two feet in the air, her heart beating twice as fast as normal.

"What is a young witch like yourself doing up past curfew?" Cleo spun around to see Snape, the potions master who nearly every student despised. His greasy black hair stuck to the sides of his face and his nose was so large it seemed to be as disapproving towards Cleo as the man himself. He stared so deep into her eyes his gaze seemed to tear through her. Cleo's heart raced as the professor drawled on.

"And so far from bed?"

AN: hi internet users! i'm a lifelong HP fan and finally decided to start writing again. pls review and let me know what you think !

-squishy cat