The morning light filtered through the tall pointed windows in cascades of glimmering gold, bathing the Great Hall and bouncing from the four long polished tables, where students were already gathered enjoying their breakfast. Carved pumpkins with twisted faces and grinning teeth covered the spacious room, the joyful chatter anticipating the Halloween feast that night.

Beside her, Eowyn bit half-heartedly at her toast, looking only half-awake, the couple of letters that an owl had dropped beside her cup of pumpkin juice still unopened. Deciding that her friend would not be awake enough to talk yet, Sigrid took a fresh toast from the tray in front of her only to nearly drop it in surprise as a thick book landed heavily to her right, missing her own cup of pumpkin juice by mere inches.

"I don't like Flitwick" Her little sister's voice complained as she took the seat next to her, the red and gold Gryffindor scarf nearly swallowing her small throat. Her arms folded over the table, pushing the plate away from her and pouting.

"Good morning to you too, Tilda." Sigrid muttered in return, holding back a chuckle as she finally bit into her buttered toast, crumbles dropping messily over her plate. "Isn't it a little early in the day to be already hating on professors? Classes have not even started."

That earned her a deathly glare form her sister's large blue eyes, yet she did not manage to look menacing at all, her childish rosy cheeks making her angry face look too cute. "I still don't like Flitwick. And I hate charms. I have double charms first thing today. Double!"

Sigrid laughed lightly at her sister, deciding it better to remain silent and let Tilda sulk and complain all she wanted to. Instead, she reached underneath Eowyn's forgotten letters on the table, where today's copy of the Daily Prophet remained still perfectly folded.

"Do you mind if I read it?" She asked, a disinterested wave from Eowyn's hands being the only reply she got, but she understood it as a yes.

She let her eyes wonder through the pages, stopping every now and then to read a specific title but finding nothing worth of her attention. There was a big advertising of a shop that had just opened in Diagon Alley; more news on the debate going around about the country's exports in cauldrons; Phius Sonnet had declared a new law regarding the ownership of venomous magical creatures; and the ministry seemed to be having trouble with apparently five muggle sightings of magic performed by underage wizards who now needed to go to trial. But apart from that, there seemed to be nothing interesting or relevant in today's paper.

"Hey, that's Legolas' father!" Tilda exclaimed suddenly next to her, pointing at a page in the paper that Sigrid had left forgotten on the table.

She let her eyes follow to where her sister was pointing and it wasn't a big article but sure enough there was a picture of a regal looking wizard dressed in expensive looking robes with equally silver hair falling long and straight down his back. His face was serious, blue eyes looking stern, imposing, powerful, and she suddenly had the feeling that he must looks scarier in real life. Below the picture and in one corner of the page read the title:

"Oropher Lasgalen presents generous donation to the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries"

Ex- Prime Minister of Magic Oropher Lasgalen presented a large donation yesterday, October 30th, to the St. Mungo's Hospital. The donation, an amount which has not yet been released to the press, is to be dedicated to experimental sorcery and potion making advances for yet untreatable maladies and injuries. According to records this will be the third donation the Ex-Minister of Magic presents to the hospital, for which the staff is infinitely grateful and eager to….

She stopped reading after that. The article was really short and it did not say more about the subject than what the title said. And still, there was something about the article that sounded slightly strange to her. It was common for influential and wealthy old families to donate large amounts of galleons to public institutions every once in a while, especially when their names were related to the Ministry. But it was definitely unusual for donations to be made repeatedly to the same institution, and she wondered for a second what business did the Lasgalens have with the Hospital.

"Are you still friends with Legolas?" She gently asked Tilda, closing the paper carefully once more before placing it over Eowyn's unread letters. Her sister's eyes turned up to look at her, placing a lock of her fine hair beside her ear before answering.

"Yeah." She shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He's really nice. I wish he had been in Gryffindor but he told me he asked the hat to be placed in Slytherin. I didn't know you could do that. Anyway we have three classes together."

"Why would he ask the hat to be in Slytherin?" Sigrid added, seeming to find the situation stranger than her little sister, for once again Tilda shrugged, as if the subject was of little interest to her.

"He said he wanted to be with his brother." Tilda said, picking her book in her hands and reluctantly throwing her backpack over one of her shoulders. "I should got to class now, before all the back row seats are taken."

Sigrid laughed again at her sister's dramatic tone, shaking her head lightly as she watched the young girl dragging her feet across the Great Hall and disappearing through the imposing open doors. And speaking of class, it was probably also time for her and the half-asleep Eowyn to head to their class as well unless they wanted to receive detention with McGonagall.

"Come on." She nudged her friend, already lifting her own bag over her shoulder. It was heavier than usual, and she made a mental note to empty some books from it next time she was in the Gryffindor tower.

"Where are Dan and Ro?" Eowyn's soft blue-grey eyes scanned the table, but Sigrid merely shrugged in return. She had not seen the twins that morning, and if she had to be honest she would rather not know what they were up to.

They made it barely in time to transfigurations, saving themselves detention but gaining the two front seats- the only two available- and right under McGonagall's ever watching eyes. At least this week they would no longer be attempting to turn a hat into a singing bird like the past few weeks – for which Sigrid had only managed to get the hat to spit feathers- and were now instead turning rocks into snails.

"This is impossible." Eowyn muttered to her left between gritted teeth, once more pointing her twelve-inch wand and tapping the rock twice, only for it to bounce slightly before once again remaining an unmoving, dull rock.

"Hey, I did it!" She suddenly squealed in return, earning a murderous glance form Eowyn. Suprisingly her little rock had indeed turned into a snail….but a mere second after it returned to being a rock, making her sigh in frustration and Eowyn to laugh loudly. "I thought I had it…."

"I can't wait for today to be over." Eowyn added just as her rock bounced once more before remaining still again. "Why does mine only bounce? What am I doing wrong?"

"You're doing everything wrong. Ow! Don't poke me with your wand!" She rubbed at her upper arm, where Eowyn's wand had playfully smacked her.

"You are not doing very well either with your rock." Her fried added defensively, still her grey-blue eyes sparked with a hint of mockery that mirrored her one sided smile. "I just want to be at the Halloween feast. Let's go early this year, right after class, so we can get the best candies and pastries."

"I can't go early today." She whispered, trying not to look at Eowyn's now positively exasperated eyes.

"If it is because you have to go to the library for homework I will-"

"It is because I have to be at the library." She interrupted her friend mid-sentence, speaking faster for Eowyn to just listen before talking again. "I'm sharing my notes with Lasgalen." She blurted out.

"You're what?" Eowyn's eyes widened, her rock and wand now forgotten on the table, and Sigrid had to check out of the corner of her eyes that McGonagall was indeed far enough not to catch them talking instead of working. "Why could you do that? When have the two of you ever spoken? Does he think he can just skip class and get your notes? I've heard he tends to do that, to get students to give him their work while he skips class as he pleases. He's already Snape's star student."

Her friend was rambling now, and Sigrid just glanced around to make sure that no one could overhear their conversation before whispering more quietly this time.

"I don't know." She added. "Perhaps he does need the help and is not just skipping class and getting someone else to do his work for him?"

"What would make you think that?" Eowyn folded her arms over the table, her eyes looking deeply at her as if trying but failing to understand her trail of thought. She opened her mouth, for a second ready to tell her closest friend that she had seen Lasgalen in the Hospital Wing the night Snape gave them detention and he had later –albeit reluctantly- admitted to it, but closed her mouth instead. Lasgalen had been so intent in denying that he had ever been in the Hospital Wing that she decided this was not her information to share, even though she never understood why. She did not owe Lasgalen any sort of loyalty? Shouldn't she share whatever she wanted with her best friend?

"I don't know. He just seemed very honest about needing the help." She said instead, picking up her wand and feigning that she was once again focused on turning her rock into a snail, but her mind could not be farther from it.

"Ok." Was all Eowyn said, and she was glad that her friend knew her well enough to know when to stop questioning her. "I'll save you candy."

The rest of the day went uneventful, expect for Elladan managing to get kicked out of the day's divination class for laughing at one of Trelawney's dramatic prophecies, and Elrohir for losing ten points from Gryffindor for then laughing at his brother. Eowyn did not bring the subject of her notes again, a thing she was glad for, and instead had switched the topic to all of her expectations for the Halloween feast that night, even adding that it would be interesting to see a troll- a thing that most terrified Sigrid. Luckily, they did not have potions that day, and she was happy not to see Snape's glaring coal eyes, or get any more points subtracted from Gryffindor for whatever reason they could find.

And sooner than she would have liked she found herself making her way to the library as the sky turned pink then purple in the distance, after agreeing with Eowyn and the twins that she would meet them at the feast later that night. She clutched at her books hard against her chest, the rest of them safely stuck inside her backpack, trying to ignore her stomach, which was twisting away in nerves.

Sure enough, the spacious library was empty, all of the students no doubt making their way to the Great Hall to celebrate. Thin columns stretched up to the high ceiling in the form of pointed arches, the large chandeliers bathing the room with a warm and flickering orange light, and the smell of parchment and books filled her nostrils with their welcoming and familiar aura. She scanned the room briefly, confirming that no one but Madam Pince was present, the librarian's nose hidden away inside a large tome, and only the tip of the black pointed hat was visible.

Sighing, she walked to the ample table closest to the crackling fireplace and proceeded to lay out her books neatly over the polished wooden surface. It was nice for once to be able to choose a table, since the library was usually packed with students after class. She did not have to wait for long, for it seemed that she had barely sat down when the door of the library opened once more, those impenetrable cold eyes finding her quickly, and she partially stiffened as he approached her.

Thranduil Lasgalen seemed to look taller than before –was that even possible?- somehow looking more regal and elegant underneath the flickering light. And yet his face remained as expressionless as ever, a stone mask impossible to break, impossible to read through. He reached her side in no time, but did not sit down at the table. Instead, his velvet lined voice echoed through the silent hall.

"Let's sit over there." He said, his voice not leaving space for argument, not even waiting for an answer before walking away to a table of his choice, farthest from where she sat and underneath a tall crystal window.

She took a deep calming breath, forcing herself to bite her tongue and simply gather all her perfectly arrange books from the table and moving to where he sat, trying to convince herself that arguing over a table would not be worth her time. But why did things have to be his way?

"What was wrong with my table?" She muttered as she dropped her books loudly over the table, not caring about arranging them anymore and earning a reproachful look form Madam Pince at the noise she caused.

"I like this one better." He said matter of factly, ever so gracefully pulling out a couple of blank parchments and taking his time to place them perfectly silently over the table before using an elegant movement of a hand to beckon her to seat, as if he was a host inviting her to his banquet.

"We had more light there." She murmured as she sat right in front of him, throwing her notebook open carelessly.

"We have the window here." He answered, his voice as cold and distant as always, even though she noticed there was not a single candle on that table.

"It's dark outside the window. We had the whole fireplace where I sat." She pointed out in a slightly annoyed voice, flipping through the pages of her notebook in order to find the specific section of notes that he needed.

"Lumos" She heard him whisper, followed by the tip of his fourteen-inch wand suddenly brightening up in a dash of white light, his slender fingers patiently placing the wand over the table and in between the two of them.

"Is that enough light for you?" One thick eyebrow raised questioningly, his face still devoid of any expression, and she just bit her tongue again and forced herself to let go of this ridiculous argument.

"Fine." She half-said half-snapped, turning her notebook around for him to see, indicating with a finger where her notes started. "From here on is what you missed. I'll be writing my paper while you copy."

She watched him nod his head, not saying anything in return, the weight of that piercing blue stare making her suddenly very self-conscious, the bright white light emanating from his wand making his pale hair look almost white as it fell freely over his perfectly muscled shoulders. And then, as silently and regal as before he merely glanced down, taking his long quill in his pale fingers and starting to copy in a neat –too neat- slanted calligraphy over his own piece of parchment. She threw careful glances at him as he worked, making sure that he did not just grab her notebook and place it in his bag or stole anything from it that was not what she had offered to share.

"What do you need so many books for?" His cold velvet voice made her look up from her own parchment where she had currently been attempting to continue her paper, only to find those impacting blue eyes once again freezing her in place.

"To finish my paper." She replied with a cutting tone, barely glancing at all the books that laid open in front of her. In return, she could see both of his eyebrows rising on his flawless forehead, looking slightly amused – if anything he did could be called an expression, really. Was he mocking her?

"You don't need that many." He commented, his voice slow and detached, somehow haughty, royal, and she bit her tongue again at his comment. Why was he being so bossy? "What's the paper about?"

"Essential potion making ingredients of the Mediterranean shores." She recited, trying to keep her calm and be slightly nice. Could he not just copy her notes and be silent? She was starting to understand why the twins disliked him so much. Beyond that unnatural beauty he seemed to be as arrogant as she had heard.

She watched those cold penetrating eyes wonder over her many books for a second before his pale slender fingers suddenly picked one, turning a couple of pages and pushing it in front of her to see.

"There's your paper." He said disinterested, once again looking at his own parchment and continuing with his perfect scribbling.

She glanced down at the indicated page, and indeed there was all of the information she needed to write a paper deserving an Outstanding on the subject. It took her a couple of breaths not to snap at him. Ever since arriving at the library he seemed to be telling her where to sit and what to write. But then again, how had he known the information would be there?

But she did not ask him. She simply went over the page that apparently she had not been able to find before and continued writing in silence. She could feel his eyes on her work every once in a while, as if proof reading everything that she was writing and she tried her best to ignore it.

"You've used the word 'beneficial' three times in that single sentence, don't you think it's time to change it?" That was it, she was going to lose it and snap at him.

"Let me write the paper my way." She answered between clenched teeth, noticing him raise both of his hands defensively in the air before continuing with his silent scribbling. Outside, the sky had already turned pitch black, thousands of stars now glimmering over the cloudless mantle, the pale crescent moon reflected neatly over the lake's mirror black surface.

"There should be a coma there." He broke the silence, pointing to the sentence she had just written, and even though he was right about it she had already lost her patience with him. He was so obnoxious.

"Would you stop correcting me?" She snapped at him, setting her quill harshly over the table, not caring about the ink splotch that she had just created. And yet, to her utter surprise his ever-serious face morphed into a slight smirk, letting out the quietest of chuckles.

"You get angry too easily." There was an unmistakable mocking tone in his ever-cold voice that made her doubt if he had just been provoking her on purpose. Was he having fun at her expense?

"I would not get angry if you would stop judging my writing." She said in return, nearly ready to pack her stuff and leave him there, no longer in the mood to be helping. But instead watched him raise his eyebrows once more before turning to look out of the window, that mocking, haughty smirk never leaving his marble face.

"You are the one who hasn't stopped judging me." His words surprised her and she felt somewhat offended by them. Was she not here willingly letting him copy all of her notes in order to help him? And on top of everything he accused her of judging him when he had been correcting everything she did since his arrival?

"Excuse me?" Was all she was able to say, sure that she was finally going to lose what little patience she had left. But contrary to her, Lasgalen remained as tranquil and regal as before, not looking altered or provoked in the slightest.

"Oh, please." He nearly whispered, cold eyes departing from the window to look straight through hers once more, his tone still calmed, disinterested, as if he was merely talking about the weather. "I've heard it all before. Let's see what are you so wary and distrustful about. Is it because I will share your notes with every single Slytheirn in the class, like I've heard said every Slytherin does? Or is it because I'm so arrogant that I manage to get students to lend me their notes at my will while I believe I'm above attending regular classes like the rest of the students? Or maybe is it because why bothering to let me copy notes that you worked so hard on when I've also heard that my father pays Dumbledore every semester to pass me. Or is it that Snape gives me an Outstanding in his class no matter what? I don't know which would it be this time."

"It's…none of that." She lied, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than before, his words dancing in her head like some sort of revelation, wishing that perhaps she had stopped to decide for herself whether to give him the cold shoulder or not based on her own judgment instead of biasing on what she had so often heard. But then again, if he knew all of that stuff, why did he not contradict them?

"Sure." He shrugged, obviously not believing her but seeming to care about it either, a cold disturbing silence suddenly floating in the air as she toyed awkwardly with her quill, Lasgalen not moving a muscle, once again looking outside the window.

"If you know people say all of those thing why don't you say something about it?" She ventured, her voice having lost part of its hostility and sounding gentler now, tentative. That seemed to get his attention, for his disinterested eyes turned once again in her direction, looking as if her suggestion had amused him.

"Like what?"

"I don't know." She continued, trying to think of something. "Like why are you taking a fourth-year class when you are in your sixth-year? Or why do you skip class so much?"

"Stop meddling in what's not your business." He said in a cutting tone, and this time it was her raising both of her hands defensively. Why was he so difficult to talk to?

"It was only a suggestion." She muttered.

"Well don't suggest that again." He replied, his voice dripping ice as that painful silence settled once more over the room. And yet she tried to think of something else to say, suddenly thinking that perhaps there was more to him than what could be heard in the hallways and classroom. He was still a mystery to her, and a mystery that seemed intent in retaining that ice cold wall around himself.

"How's your cat?" She asked before she could stop and think before, silently cursing herself in the process? Really? Had she just asked that? Oh, she could see how stupid her question must have sounded in the way in which his eyes were now studying her as if assessing her sanity. That was a strange question to ask out of nowhere.

"Now you are the one judging me." She rushed to add, watching as he let out another amused chuckle.

"I'm trying very hard not to." He commented, studying her for a while longer before answering in a slow voice, as if still questioning where that question had come from. "He's fine I guess, down in the Slytherin dungeon."

"Isn't it depressing and gloomy down there?" She heard herself say once more before stopping to think, this time met once again by a pair a raised eyebrows and penetrating blue eyes.

"Isn't it always hectic and nerve-wracking in the ever-busy Gryffindor tower?" And there it was, answering a question with a question. Oh, how that frustrated her. And still, that question made her laugh lightly, finding it entertaining how an outsider would perceive the warm and welcoming tower she loved so dearly.

"No." She was quick to answer. "It's warm and there's tons of light and an amazing view of the yard."

"I have a view underneath the lake." He added, his face as serious as usual, yet his voice sounded somehow less cold, only if slightly, although still maintaining that regal and powerful demeanor.

"Doesn't that scare you?" She continued questioning, not finding the image of swirling water at her window pleasing at all. "To think that you have tons of water just floating heavily over your roof while you sleep?"

"No." He seemed to have found her comment equally interesting for that mocking smirk was once again present in his pale face. "That's exactly what I like about it. It makes you feel safe."

"Safe from what?" She blurted out, but he merely shrugged silently in return, not answering her question.

"I finished copying your notes." His icy voice answered instead, changing the direction of the conversation and seeming to be eager to mark an end to it. "Would you mind going over the paper tomorrow? It's already late."

Sigrid nodded her head, carefully closing all of her books while noticing him putting away his parchments, quill and into his own bag.

"Nox" She heard him say, followed by the disappearance of the bright light that that previously bathed their table, the room once again in the comforting orange tinge of the candles and fireplace. She threw her bag over her shoulder, waiting patiently for him to do the same, and was surprised when he suddenly winced quietly as he pulled the heavy bag with his left hand, letting it drop to the floor before switching hands and pulling it up with his right.

"Are you ok?" She asked, feeling the weight of his impenetrable ice blue eyes on her as they started their way towards the tall pair of doors.

"Yeah." He answered quickly, not turning to look at her as he let her through the door first. "I just twisted my wrist at the game." He explained.

She nodded her head, not sure if to believe him or not. Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey be able to treat a sprained wrist in only a minute? But then again, she did not ask more about it, instead watching as he silently turned around and disappeared through the long empty corridor. And then, already dreading and anticipating the meeting with him again tomorrow, she made her way through the long deserted hallways of the castle, hoping that her friends had saved her some treats from the Halloween feast.

Here's the next chapter! I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Thank you so much to VayaNoldo22 and Rose61393 fro reviewing, your comments mean a lot to me, so happy you are enjoying the story thus far!

Love,

Elena