The Slytherin fire blazed with a custom greenish tint. The Common Room was modestly furnished, several leather armchairs and a velvety sofa. In the corners were tables at which students could study. Above the fireplace was a portrait Salazar Slytherin, scowling at all who dared look into his penetrating eyes. Above on of the tables was the Slytherin Shield. And hanging from the walls, in a seemingly random order, were many great Slytherins of the past. Seated in one particularly comfortable green chair was a teenage boy with blonde hair and green eyes. He stared blankly into the flames, only subconciously aware of them. What had his father said? He couldn't remember, but there was importance in the exact wording. What he said?
"If you ever ride upon a Hippogriff, Warren, that is the only time it's okay to fall off"
That was the gist of it, but he couldn't remember exactly what he said. It could have been meaningless jumble from a dying man, the case was right for such a thing, but he couldn't get past that. There was meaning in his father's message and he knew it. But what did it mean?
"Warren?" came a female voice from behind him. It was a pleasant voice, like a whistle through a crisp, clear night. It was also a comforting and familiar voice to him. It was a voice he'd rather not hear at this point in time.
"Warren, honestly, are you still up?"
"What does it look like, Angelia?"
"Please, go to bed," said the girl into the firelight so she could be seen. Her thin frame was covered by a blue robe. Her brown hair, normally in a braided bun, fell about her broad shoulders. Her skin was pale and her eyes a soft blue. They stared patiently but tiredly at Warren.
"What about you?" he asked her, "What are you still doing up?"
"I'm never sleepy, you know that. I was checking to see if you were still awake and sure enough..."
"Angelia, please, can't I have some peace?" he said, "I won't go to sleep even if you are successful in sending me to bed."
"You'll fall asleep during class" she said to him, "again"
"So let me, what do you mind if I do?"
"Warren, I may not be your sister," she said, "But I am the closest thing you've got. Please, I care about you."
"It won't kill me to fall asleep in class," he said, exasperated.
"Perhaps not, I suppose," she said, thoughtfully, "But it will earn you an interesting reputation."
"You're right about that, but do I not already have one?" he said. It was a loaded question, and her expression gave way to sympathy.
"Not here," she replied.
"Not yet," he said.
To that she sighed and tossed back her hair from her face. She mumbled something that sounded like "Good night" and headed upstairs once more to bed. Warren smiled after her, a faint and humble smile. Angelia was a nice girl, always looking out for him, but she usually went a bit far with it. She like to play the mother, even though she was a first and he was a third. They had kept touch even through the two years they were apart. Angelia was now the closest he ever got to his father. Angelia's mother, his father's sister, had passed away about the same time as Warren's own father. Now, Angelia Parkerand Warren Strillo were like brother and sister, even though they looked nothing alike. She had grown up too fast, her entire family recognized that, but her childish innoncence resonated behind her solemn eyes. Only Warren could harness that, a power he treasured. Their bond was strong, stronger than most real siblings have.