Someday, I will own something of great value. This will not be Harry Potter, as J K Rowling already owns it.
SaturdayRyua woke up in her bed. She couldn't actually remember how she got there, she'd been running on automatic the night before. Her hand still throbbed, and she'd soaked through the bandage on her palm. At least she'd slept curled up around it, red pyjamas showed bloodstains a lot less than viridian sheets. Lovely, Ryua thought, as she peeled back the soaked ball of cloth. The words were engraved scarlet on the reddened skin, and didn't appear likely to stop seeping blood anytime soon. What am I going to do about this?
Well, there wouldn't be anything in the dorms to help. She'd have to go for a walk. Ryua pulled on some casual robes, with sleeves long enough to hide her hand if certain people noticed, wrapped another ball of bandages into her palm, and went upstairs. She wandered aimlessly through the halls, vaguely heading upstairs, not really towards the hospital wing. There was no way she was going to do Umbridge's work for her and spread fear among the school. Maybe she should send for her own private stash of medical supplies. With that thought in mind, she turned up towards the owlrey.
Much to her surprise, Harry was in the same place, watching Hedwig soar out the window. "Hey, Harry. Who're you writing to?"
He jumped. "Oh. Um... just a friend. You?"
Ryua knew perfectly well he didn't have friends outside of Hogwarts. She also knew she probably shouldn't pry. "Yeah, me too." Ryua wrote down an order for the basic medic's kit for quidditch players from Which Broomstick, having angled her body unconsciously to hide her hand. She didn't even bother trying to use her right to attach the letter to her owl, but Harry noticed anyway.
"So, how bad's your hand?"
"Enough," she groaned. "If I thought I could do it without getting caught or ending up with a worse replacement, I'd arrange for Umbridge to have a tragic heart attack in the middle of my DADA class."
"I'm with you on that," Harry replied, although Ryua doubted he took her as seriously as she meant her threat. "How'd tryouts go?"
"Good, actually. You're in serious trouble come the first match. And you know I won't crap out on you, you're stuck fighting us."
"Lovely. Everyone's still the same, except Ron's on the team. He'll probably come right down to the Slytherin Common Room just to brag about it. He's just a little excited..."
"I'll bet." Ryua paused, "Harry, does Ron know where the common room is?"
"I... um, yes. He's a prefect, you see..."
"I noticed," she said, leaving a mental note to actually find out what Harry was talking about. "Which leaves us troublemakers all by ourselves during free time. Pansy and Draco are both off patrolling, which I'm pretty sure means snogging under the stairs, so that cuts out the conversation factor in my House."
Harry snorted with amusement well tempered with disgust at the thought of his arch rival doing anything along those lines. "Yeah, Hermione's always trying to drag Ron out. He's not much for the whole responsibility shindig."
"They aren't under the stairs themselves yet, are they?"
"No, not yet. For someone so intelligent, Hermione's got a lot of trouble seeing the obvious."
"And Ron's just Ron."
"Yep." Harry turned slightly to lean on the windowsill, then jumped.
"What?"
"Over the trees, right there... never mind, it's gone now."
Ryua looked out past his shoulder. Now, it couldn't have just been an owl, could it? Harry doesn't startle that easily... She was about to ask if it was a thestral when Filch slouched in.
"I have a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs!"
"Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.
"I have my sources..."
"Hah. Probably my brother. I can promise you, Mr. Filch, that Harry was doing no such thing. He wrote a simple letter to a friend."
"I'll need to see this letter, Potter."
"I don't have it. I sent it."
Ryua saw Filch open his mouth. "Sir, I saw him write and send it. It was just a plain letter. You know how much my brother likes getting Harry in trouble."
Faced with two students devoutly denying what was a shady rumor at best, Filch slouched off again. "Thanks," Harry said.
"No problem. I did see you send it, after all. Er, you aren't actually ordering Dungbombs, are you?"
"No, I really was writing a letter."
"Too bad. I plan to train my beaters to actually hit things away fast, and giving them something it's important to get away quickly would help. Or to wake them up in the morning..."
"I'm glad Angelina's not quite that nasty."
"Hmm, just wait till you're captain. You'll see just now nasty you can get trying to get people to pay attention to you. See you later," Ryua said as she walked out the door.
