The Great Hall was as enchanting as ever. The walls were adorned with various decorations; streams of silver hung down from the blue-flamed torches. Numerous pine trees were stationed about the hall, covered in muggle trinkets and whatever new ornament being sold in Diagon Alley. On the tables of the four houses there were ice sculptures, each portraying the animal of that house. Slytherin and Gryffindor were easily the more amazing of the foursome, the rivalries apparent in the grandiosity of it all. The head table was rather unoccupied, the professors likely choosing to stay within their quarters for the holidays.
A large part of Hogwart's student body went home for the holidays, opening their new joke set, new broom to try out for next year's Quidditch team or simply pulling out Chocolate Frogs from their stockings. Those who remained at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry within the holiday season had their gifts sent to their rooms. Everyone was to enjoy the holidays whether it was with their family, or not.
Rowan Hartridge was one of the few who found themselves confined within the School. Her parents had taken a last minute vacation to Canada, she couldn't understand why. They had originally moved away to get away from the unrelenting snowfall. The reason for the move from continent was rather random. Her mum apparently had decided they were in need of new atmosphere and England apparently filled that role. When she had transferred, there was no debate that she was to attend Hogwarts.
Rowan sat nonchalantly at the Slytherin's table in the great hall, her chocolate brown hair tied up in a loose bun. One leg was up on the long bench while the other simply draped off of the side. Her nose was buried in a book; Potions, Year 6. As a rule she wasn't one to study on holidays, normally she'd be running around her house screaming at the top of her lungs to some witch band. Her parents started casting noise barriers around her so they wouldn't have to be tormented by the sound.
She was trying to get ahead of the class, the reason for her holiday studies was because she wanted know what Snape was talking about in the lessons to come. Though she wasn't about to become a Hermione Granger the girl whose hand never went down, but she did want to have the same rank for marks.
Rowan was sixteen and happily sorted into the cunning house of Slytherin. Her parents though, were mildly surprised at the Sorting Hat's choice of house. Her attitude wasn't in the typical array of Slytherin attributes. For one, she wasn't one to surround herself with lackeys and she wasn't half as inconsiderate to the mudbloods. Though she does possess a quick tongue and often will get in trouble for it.
The girl pulled out her wand from her pocket and pointed at her book. "Wingardium Leviosa." She muttered beneath her breath, it was a simple spell but quite efficient. The book floated about a foot above the table, not enough to attract attention but enough to accomplish her task. Her freehand slipped through the shadow of the book and grabbed a half of a Sesame-Seed bagel. It was pre-buttered, exactly how she liked it.
As soon as she'd put down her book the bagel found it's way to her lips and she munched away happily as she surveyed the room. Slytherin's table was barren; mummy and daddy couldn't bear to let their children be alone on Christmas. Hufflepuff had the odd student lingering around, Ravenclaw didn't have any but they were most likely cooped up in the library. Gryffindor… Well they always seemed to have at least 5 students acting obnoxiously. They were so full of themselves sometimes.
Rowan was looking up at the ceiling, today's floating ornaments consisted of red and green trees like the ones you found in muggle cars. They apparently made the air in the car pine-fresh, or something of the like. She was extremely tempted try and levitate to smell it, when a sharp pain jabbed the back of her head. "FUC-" She nearly swore aloud when she turned to see some group of Gryffindors giggling like hyena's and pointing at her. She looked at the paper airplane hovering around her head and to the group again. The one with startling blue hair was holding a wand, seemingly controlling the plane.
His name was Taylor something, he was in sixth year as well, they shared a Transfiguration class together. She felt like screaming and then taking a fork and throwing it straight towards him. It probably would have been rather amusing to watch him scramble around the hall, running from a fork. She scowled at them, her discontent obvious from her facial features.
She grabbed the airplane and crumpled it up and then picked her Potions book and left her half-eaten bagel on the plate. She pouted thinking about the fact she wouldn't be able to eat it. Another scowl was sent as she looked back at the gang. Her feet quickly shuffled themselves from the hall and down to the dungeons, screaming in frustration once she'd reached her quarters.
"That insolent little prick!" Her voice bounced from the dungeon walls, creating an eerie-like echo. "I was just sitting there eating my bagel, what the hell was his problem! I should make his shower head spray spiders all over his pretty blue head." Her obsessive little rant was about to carry on when a creak form the dungeon's door distracted her. No one from Slytherin was supposed to be there. "How curious." Her current obsession remained forgotten as she went to explore.
She crept to the door, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. She attempted to peak through the closed door. A hooded figure was rummaging about the common room. It looked like an adult from behind, Snape perhaps? She pushed open the door ajar, one eye now having a full view. She was befuddled as to who would want to be searching this desolate place. Maybe a student stayed there and didn't want anyone to know? But she would have recognized them.. Her thoughts came to a halt as the figure edged closer to he door. She squealed lightly and quickly muttered an enlightening spell she'd recently created. The bright blue rays blinded her for but a second, but long enough for the spy. Well, at least that was her only explanation.
Pushing the door open wide she saw a cloak neatly folded in front of her. Not a soul was in the common room. Not even a noise to prove the figure was real. She picked It up with both hands, unfolding the cloth for further inspection. A yellowed note was pinned to the breast.
'Let the games begin.'