(Disclaimer: I own the plot and characters that aren't from the Harry Potter books. If you think I own the Harry Potter books, you are sorely mistaken and a bloody idiot. Thank you.)
"And twenty points from Gryffindor for Mr. Potter's snide remarks," Professor Snape hissed, dismissing the class for lunch. Trysten Moonjade watched as the class filed out in front of her.
"Bloody hell, Harry! Snape sure had it out for you this morning," Ron complained loudly as the threesome made their way out of the class.
"Snape always has it out for Harry, Ronald. Today he just went overboard," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
"Yes," Ron whined, "but did you see how many points he took from Gryffindor? Hundreds, thousands maybe…" Ron's rant faded as he moved into the hallway, and another conversation became clearer to Trysten.
"I mean, who does he think he is, anyway?" the cool, sneering voice of Draco Malfoy asked. "Potter thinks all of the teachers will coddle him like that old coot," Draco hissed, referring, of course, to Dumbledore, "just because he's the-boy-who-lived. Hanging around with that filthy mudblood and Weaselby."
Trysten slipped in behind Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, leaving a few stragglers behind her so as not to draw attention as the very last one out. She tuned the conversations of those around her out and focused on the plans she had for lunch. She held her belongings close to her, trying not to bump anyone accidentally. She maneuvered to the edge of the crowd as it neared the Great Hall, then quietly slipped down a set of stairs just before the grand entrance. She navigated the halls expertly, trusting her feet to find their way.
Before the noise of her classmates receded from her mind, she found herself standing before a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Her lips twisted into a twitching smile as she leaned over and tickled the pear, causing a highly annoying giggle to erupt and the pear to turn into the door handle. Trysten swung the door open and gingerly stepped in, trying not to get in the way of the bustling house elves. A few minutes after her entry, a small elf in a poor excuse for a dress squeaked loudly, suddenly noticing Trysten's presence.
"M-Miss Moonjade! Rifka didn't see you there."
Trysten gave her a subdued smirk. "Don't worry about it, Rifka, it happens all the time. Do you think a few of you could spare the time to gather me something to eat?"
"Of course, Miss Moonjade. W-will Miss Moonjade be eating here?"
"No, Rifka, I'll be bringing it with me. And as I've said, you can call me Trysten."
"Yes, Miss Moonjade," Rifka murmured, hurrying off to gather food for her. Trysten watched the elves' teamwork with admiration, smiling as Rifka returned almost instantly, carrying a small basket.
"Thank you, Rifka," Trysten smiled. "Perhaps I will see you at dinner…?"
"Perhaps, Miss Moonjade. Please excuse Rifka; the cooking must be done now." With that, Rifka returned to work, scurrying along with the other elves, leaving Trysten smiling with affection.
Trysten traversed the hallways, basket in hand and a specific destination in mind. Taking a deep breath, she entered the second floor girls' bathroom. "Myrtle?" she called tentatively. "Myrtle, are you in here?"
"And where else would I be?" Moaning Myrtle pouted, floating out of one of the stalls. "There's not much to do when you're dead. Plus, if I even try they'll just make fun of me again."
"Do you mind if I sit up here?" Trysten asked, gesturing to a large windowsill halfway to the high ceiling.
"And where will I sit?" Myrtle snapped. "No one cares about poor Myrtle. 'Let's just let her float in the air, it doesn't matter because she's dead!'" Myrtle began to wail, and Trysten felt a tingle of insuppressible guilt.
"I could share it with you," she offered, beginning to climb atop the sinks to reach the windowsill.
"Oh," Myrtle responded simply, her tears stopping immediately. She floated easily towards the sill, arriving at about the same time as Trysten managed to lift herself upon the ledge. She let Myrtle complain for several minutes about the people who said they'd come back but never did, then interjected her own story about the conversations at the end of potions. Myrtle laughed, the noise echoing harshly within the bathroom. "Harry Potter. You know, he never came back either."
Trysten looked at her, dumbstruck. "Harry Potter was in the girls' bathroom?"
"Why, yes, he came after one of his friends when she was crying. He tried to comfort her, the nice boy." Myrtle's tone turned bitter and depressive as she recalled, "No one ever tried to comfort me, not even Harry Potter." Myrtle began wailing again, but not before Trysten heard the door swing open. Cursing beneath her breath, Trysten swiftly dropped off of the sill, ducking into the nearest stall and shutting the door quietly. She heard the other girl's feet splashing in the water that lined the tiles, coming closer. They stopped a few feet away from the stall Trysten was in, and all grew silent. "What are you looking at?" Myrtle shrieked. "You would think you've never seen a dead girl crying before!"
Trysten cringed at Myrtle's lack of finesse as the girl screamed in horror, dropped whatever she was carrying, and fled from the bathroom. Myrtle promptly began crying and wailing, facing away from the stall Trysten was creeping out of. "I should get ready for my next class," she told the sobbing girl. She looked to her right and found a Transfiguration book bobbing in the water. She picked it up and trudged on toward the door. Halfway there, she stopped and turned to face Myrtle. "I'm not sure if I can make it tomorrow, but I'll definitely come by the end of the week." She paused. "Accio basket." The lunch basket floated toward Trysten, levitating before her until she gripped the handle. "Bye Myrtle." She turned and, peeking to make sure none were in sight, left the bathroom, Myrtle howling as loud as ever.
Having stopped by the kitchen to drop off the basket, Trysten found her way up the marble staircase and down the hall until she was standing at the door of Professor Minerva McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom. She took a deep breath and knocked, clutching the other girl's book to her chest. She started when Professor McGonagall opened the door a few moments later.
"Why, Miss…uh…come in, please," the professor offered. Not one to disappoint, Trysten did as she was instructed, sitting down as the professor gestured to do so. "Now, to what do I owe this visit, Miss…?"
"Moonjade," Trysten filled. "One of your first year Transfiguration students got frightened in the bathroom earlier. She dropped this." Trysten held the book out to Professor McGonagall, who reached for it immediately. "I'm afraid it is a bit wet," Trysten warned as the professor's hand clamped around the damp surface. As she brought the wet object back to her body, she muttered a simple drying charm. Setting the book on her desk, she adjusted her glasses and studied the child before her.
"Frightened, you say?" Trysten nodded in response. "Whatever of?"
"Oh," Trysten blushed, "I'm afraid she hadn't met Myrtle before." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the absence of 'moaning' preceding Myrtle's name, then turned her attention back to the girl before her.
Trysten didn't meet the professor's eyes, keeping her own downcast. She was slightly pale with mousy-brown hair trailing just past her shoulders, wavy until it ended in a number of small corkscrews. She was obviously timid, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes flitting around nervously.
"Which house are you in?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Ravenclaw," the girl responded quietly.
Minerva nodded, expecting such. "Five points to Ravenclaw for your conscientious return of the text." She looked the girl over once more. "Miss Moonjade, is there a reason why I do not know your face? I have no recollection of meeting you prior to this."
"I am rather new here," Trysten began, deciding to leave out the fact that the girl was currently enrolled in Professor McGonagall's class. "A little over halfway through the last school year I enrolled here, but was involved in extensive tutoring instead of the normal classes." At Minerva's disbelieving look, Trysten chose to elaborate. "My family travels a lot you see…well, we used to. My mother's death and a few other unfortunate…events transferred me into my grandparents' care, who contacted Headmaster Dumbledore about my joining the school in the year of my peers."
"Which is?" McGonagall interrupted.
"Sixth. Luckily I was thirsty for knowledge throughout my childhood and had access to it, so with a few remedial courses and a bit of catch up work last semester, along with the use of a time turner, I was able to take the O.W.L.S. on time, with the rest of my class."
"And are you finding the classes to be beyond your level this year?" Minerva asked, quite interested.
"Not at all! That is," Trysten flushed, "some are difficult, but not abnormally so." Professor McGonagall smiled and, glancing at her watch, stood. Trysten followed suit.
"It is almost time for afternoon classes, so I will let you go." Minerva smiled ruefully. "I am sorry if that felt like an interrogation, but there are very few around here whom I know nothing about." She gestured toward the door, and Trysten walked as quickly toward it as she could manage without looking as though she were rushing. "Miss Moonjade," Minerva called in an afterthought, "have I had any classes with you?"
Trysten smiled at this familiar occurrence then turned to face her teacher. "Just one," she told her regretfully. Allowing the shock to process through McGonagall's system, she slipped through the door, headed toward her afternoon class, Ancient Runes. On her way, she walked through a familiar hallway.
"Ah, Miss Moonjade, lovely to see you again," a portrait of Wilfred Elphick greeted, luckily painted before he was gored by an Erumpent.
"Hello, Wilfred," she greeted. "Sorry, I cannot stay; I have to get to Ancient Runes."
"Oh, that is just too bad," the man said, putting emphasis on every single word. "Come back later and I'll tell you my tale about that ghastly Erumpent!"
"You already did," Trysten murmured softly, continuing on.
"What was that?" Wilfred asked, straining an ear forward.
"Nothing. I'll see you soon," she called over her shoulder, quickening her pace in order to make in to Ancient Runes in the midst of the rush.
When Ancient Runes was finished, Trysten quickly found her way to the library. Quietly closing the door behind her, she slipped into a hidden corner, not even attracting the eye of the attentive Madam Pince. She set diligently to work on the scroll Severus had assigned, adding all the information she could. She and the Potions Master had a friendly relationship, and since she could no longer escape notice she thought she might as well give in her all. When done, the began reading the pages dictated in Ancient Runes, as well as a few pages ahead to ready herself for the next class period.
An hour or two later, Trysten rolled up her Potions scroll and put the Ancient Runes book in her bag, leaving as quietly as she came. She worked her way to the ground floor, avoiding populated corridors, and went down the stairs to the right of the Grand Marble staircase. Soon enough, Trysten found herself at the kitchen doorway. She entered the frantic room, this time noticed immediately by a small male elf, who bowed submissively before her.
"Can Dobby be of service to the young Hogwarts student?" Dobby asked carefully, studying the girl.
"Hello, Dobby, I am Trysten Moonjade," she greeted, offering her hand for Dobby to take. Reluctantly he did so, and a smile lit her face. "Dobby, I was wondering if-" A loud crash interrupted her, causing her to jump.
"Sorry Miss Moonjade. If she would please ask again?"
Trysten thought for a moment. "Would you like any help?" She asked, seeing that the frantic kitchen was more so than usual.
However kind Trysten's intentions were Dobby became instantly suspicious. "Why?" he asked, eying her warily.
"Just to help," she replied honestly. "But if it's not allowed, I'll just ask that you make me a dinner basket, please." Dobby looked her over coolly, then popped away, only to return a few moments later with a basket for her.
"Dobby must protect Harry Potter," he told her.
It took her a moment to register what Dobby had said, at which point she burst out laughing—a tinkling laughter that frightened the nearest house elves. "I'm sorry," she told Dobby, wiping her eyes, "it's just…why would I want to hurt Harry? He's done nothing to me."
Dobby studied her, calculatingly, then stated, "Dobby must get back to work. Dobby would thank Miss Moonjade to see herself out." Taking a hint, Trysten left the elves to their business, basket in hand, and headed out toward the grounds.
Just before it started to get dark, she arrived at the hut of Rubeus Hagrid. "Hagrid?" she called tentatively, knocking on the big door. "Hagrid, are you in there?"
"Tryst'n, tha' you?" Hagrid's muffled voice boomed from within the hut.
"It's me, Hagrid, open up!" she said a bit irritably, a chill settling in.
The door swung open to reveal the large, burly man, grinning like there was no tomorrow. "'Ello, Tryst'n, what brings you 'ere?"
"I came to help you, of course," she replied nonchalantly, maneuvering past the giant man to enter his house. She asked him about his day while she picked at her food, but discovered that, once again, the elves had packed way too much. "Do you want any of this, Hagrid? I can't seem to finish it."
"Nah, Tryst'n, I've already eaten. But you can see if Fang will 'ave a go at it." She looked down at Fang, who put his head on her knee affectionately, spilling drool down the length of her leg.
"Thanks," she mumbled sarcastically, shoving his heavy head off of her leg. Hagrid took the dinner remainders and put them on the floor, obtaining Fang's attention and falling victim to his constant hunger. "Shall we get to work?" she asked, gesturing outside. "Scourgify," she mumbled, pointing to her leg.
"O' course, Miss Tryst'n." He opened the back door and broadly gestured for her to go first. "You know, Tryst'n, I'm real glad you're helpin' me take care of me pets. 'Arry, Hermione, and Ron always helped before, but they haven't been to see me this year. They're not even takin' Care of Magical Creatures!" Hagrid exclaimed sadly.
"Oh, Hagrid, I'm sure they've just been busy, preparing for next years N.E.W.T.S and all."
"But you've been able to visit," he sulked.
She smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his arm. "I'm just ahead. I've become an expert at managing time, whereas it appears Ron and Harry procrastinate constantly. Hermione must have her hands full. Plus," she added, remembering this morning's lesson, "Professor Snape has been giving Harry more punishments than I thought possible."
"Severus ought to know better, with all 'Arry's been through. Still don't trust the man." They walked into the Forbidden Forest, side by side, smaller creatures scared off by Hagrid's grumbling, and most of the larger, dangerous creatures leaving Hagrid space, seeing as the pair were no common visitors.
Just a little bit before curfew, they left the forest, dirty, torn, and worse for wear. A few parting words were said then Trysten began to hike back toward the castle, hoping to get to the West Tower unnoticed.
Luck was on her side, and she approached the Ravenclaw tower without incident. "Skrewts," she whispered, startled at how loud the whispered password sounded in the silent corridor. She slipped inside the Ravenclaw common room, and, seeing only a few remained in the dim firelight, she crept up to the girls' dormitories. She pushed open the door without a sound, flitted inside, and pressed the door closed behind her. Her bed, mostly hidden when the door was open, was a welcome sight after a long day, and she sank into it gratefully, turning away from the other beds in the room. The last images in her head were those of Hagrid's warming smile and Professor McGonagall's calculating gaze.