Hogwarts, Eaven decided, was a wonderful place. The black-haired girl was currently sitting outside of Dumbledore's office, waiting for an escort to take her to her new home—Ravenclaw. The Headmaster had explained the different Houses and basic courses offered at Hogwarts, including a mention of Quidditch and other electives. Eaven was surprised she still remembered all he had said – Hogwarts itself was just too distracting. The whole castle reeked of magic. To her, it was a most glorious feeling. The very walls seemed to sing, infused as they were with the bright hum of magic. Sitting here, leaning against this wall, she felt alive for the first time in months.

The sound of footsteps walking down the corridor startled her out of her revere, though she gave no sign of it. The footsteps stopped next to Eaven. "Eaven Farraday?" taking her curt nod as a yes, the student continued, "I'm Marissa Hedgeworth. Headmaster Dumbledore requested that I lead you to our common room." She finished with a terse "This way, please."

Rising swiftly to her feet, Eaven grasped her cane and carefully found her way to where Marissa stood, and then the two students were off down the narrow corridor.

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Eaven was sick and tired of all the whispers. In a world completely deprived of visual sensation, sound and the ability to hear were immensely important. At the moment, though, Eaven wished she were deaf. The matter of the constant whispering was not helped by the fact that Eaven's hearing had sharpened remarkably over the course of her blindness, thus allowing her to hear even the most quiet comment. Didn't the students of Hogwarts, with their stuffy British accents and words, have anything better to do than talk about her? Why in Merlin's beard couldn't they just leave her alone and let her sink into vague anonymity or better yet—invisibility?

Releasing a growl of frustration, Eaven glared fiercely in the general direction of the latest perpetrators and slammed her book shut. Gripping the binding tightly, she absently caressed the Braille titling before shoving it into her bag. Hastily gathering the rest of her books, parchment and pens (much more convenient than quills – Muggles were quite smart at times), she thrust them with violently next to the book. Then, straightening her skirt and robe, she stalked out of the common room with as much dignity as she could muster.

Eaven was rather thankful classes did not start until tomorrow. She had used the weekend to accustom herself to her new surroundings as much as possible, so that now she was able to walk from 'her' couch to the stairs or Ravenclaw entrance without much trouble. Most of the students would call out a warning if she were about to run into something, but on the whole they were content to watch and whisper, leaving Eaven to find her way. The arrangement agreed perfectly with the raven-haired girl, but she did wish they would stop talking about her.

Stopping just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Eaven fished around in the inside-pocket of her robes for a bit, and then triumphantly pulled out a large, rather wrinkled sheet of parchment. She patted the robe pocket absently, fondly wishing the inventor of the Ever-Empty-Pocket spell eternal happiness and prosperity. Magic was quite lovely, and rather useful for all sorts of things. She could go on all afternoon just thinking about all the possibilities and basking in the brilliant symphony that was Hogwarts, but as the somewhat quirky girl reminded herself, she really had to head toward the library. Consulting the roughly-drawn Braille map of Hogwarts that she had found tucked into her trunk; she took a deep breath and started down the hall.

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She was lost. Lost in a strange, most-likely haunted castle – but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered right now was escaping. Tears ran freely down pale, sunken cheeks as she stumbled down yet another endless corridor, weaving to and fro like a drunken muggle sailor. Unseen obstacles tripped her, random walls sprang out of nowhere, but still she ran on. Finding her way to what felt like a staircase, Eaven lurched up the stairs, climbing endlessly. Her muscles burned with exertion, but the physical pain merely spurred her on recklessly. Finally reaching the top of the stairwell, she slumped against the wall while her hands searched for a door handle. Cold metal met her hands and she pulled downward. The door swung slowly in direct defiance of the torrent of wind that rushed by. Eaven clung to the door, shivering slightly at the chillness of the wind.

Edging out slowly, she discovered a balcony of some sort and sank gracefully onto the cold cement near the doorway. Her mind raced back to those few words that had had such an impact on her this morning. Like a broken record they played over and over again in her mind. "You're nothing," they whispered, "not fit to survive. Only half a human now aren't you, Farraday? Not so sure of ourselves anymore, eh? I don't see why He couldn't just finish you off while the chance was there – he took care of the rest of your family, didn't he? Who was it – Sean? I heard he got it pretty bad before they killed him. They say he begged to join them, groveling at their feet for his own pathetic life." She hadn't even known who he was, and still he had tormented her. The library was meant to be a haven for her, as it had always been back home – why did everything she loved have to be destroyed?

The sudden creak of a door interrupted her thoughts as she realized she was no longer alone.

Seconds ticked by like centuries, agonizing in their slowness. Finally, a rustle of fabric as the stranger stepped carefully over to where Eaven sat. A few tears still trickled down her face and an occasional sniff escaped, but she made no move to hide it. The young Ravenclaw tensed slightly as the whisper of cloth sliding against stone filled her ears, relaxing only when she realized the intruder had sat down—somewhere near her from the level of noise.

The same enticing muskiness she had first noticed on the Hogwarts Express wafted past her on the chilly September breeze. Unconsciously, Eaven inhaled deeply, welcoming the scent as her previous worries and the reason for the last few hours' desperate escape flitted out of memory. Guiltily checking her actions immediately afterward, the raven-haired girl was surprised when no derogatory or teasing remark was directed her way. At that, a faint smiled hovered about her small, thin mouth, fading gradually as her thoughts drifted towards people and friendships that existed now only in memory. She became so deeply absorbed that she soon forgot all about her unknown companion until a deep sigh startled her out of her revere.

"How do you do it?" His voice was quiet, but filled with a surprising amount of anger and—was that pain? She tilted her head to the side, much like a puppy or bird.

"Pardon?" she cringed at the cracked sound of her voice. Certainly no soothing melody could be found there. At best only a screeching whine, she mused.

"How do you stand everything? The whispers, the mockery, the—the blindness!" His voice was raised in astonished irritation.

Slightly miffed, she answered tersely," The same way anyone else would." Eaven couldn't believe his nerve. First of all, he was unspeakably rude in not even introducing himself – he obviously knew who she was—heck, everyone in the whole bloody English school did—and he still neglected to provide the same courtesy to her. On top of that enormous offense, the first thing he said to her wasn't something like "terrible weather, wot wot?" but instead appeared to be a direct assault on her emotions.

"Bloody helpful, aren't you?" apparently he was as thick as his manners implied; "I didn't ask if you solved your problems like anyone else, I asked how you went about it."

As if he had a right to be annoyed with her! It wasn't like she had presumed to shove her nose into his highly personal affairs. Controlling the rush of irritation that threatened to spill into outright hexing, Eaven took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Did it ever occur to you that I might not be inclined to talk to you when you haven't even taken the time to introduce yourself?"

A disgusted snort met her words, "Not really." He stood up, apparently considering her a waste of his oh so important time. The doorknob squeaked as he pulled it and opened the door. Seconds passed, and then minutes as the Nuisance With No Name stood in the doorway. Eaven raised an eyebrow, feeling amused for the first time since he had spoken. After another moment, a low growl emitted from the strange wizard, and, as Eaven snickered he stalked back to his previous seat. The two students sat for a while; one clearly fidgeting in resentful silence while the other leaned serenely against the wall.

Minutes passed before he dared speak, and then only with forced politeness and respect, "I'm Padfoot." Eaven snickered again, what sort of lunatic would name their child Padfoot?

"Padfoot?" she managed to choke out.

Clearly irritated at her response—no doubt expecting her to be impressed by his willingness to right his previous rudeness—he snapped, "Yes, Padfoot."

She raised her eyebrows; touchy, this one.

Evidently certain his introduction was sufficient to mend all wrongs and make them the best of friends, Padfoot continued, "You still haven't answered my question."

Her chapped lips clamped tightly into a thin line. Like heck she was going to answer him. If Padfoot wanted her to talk to him, he would just have to learn to be respectful on his own. There were some boundaries that people just didn't cross with her, and he had definitely crossed more than one today.

"Are you ignoring me?" he actually had the nerve to sound surprised! As if she would have done anything but ignore him after all he had done to provoke her.

"I'm trying to for your sake, but if you don't leave or at least shut up, I'm afraid you're going to find out just how nice being ignored is, at least in comparison…" she trailed off into heated silence. Were all English this obnoxious? If they were, Eaven could see why the muggles had decided to stage a revolution. Corrupt politicians and excess taxes were much more preferable than Snobbish British Brats.

"Favorite food?" The question was ventured in a surprisingly timid and repentant tone. The sudden image of a begging puppy with large, innocent eyes filled her mind. An indignant sniff banished the faintly-disconcerting vision. No way was he getting off the hook that easily. If Padfoot wanted her to answer him, he'd have to try harder and wait longer.

Finally getting the point, Padfoot rose reluctantly to his feet and slumped past her, his every action filled with exaggerated sulkiness. Pausing at the door, he hesitated as if to ask her something and another wave of that intoxicating muskiness hit her. Surprisingly dizzy all of the sudden; Eaven barely noticed when he closed the door behind him without another word, leaving her with only the swirling September wind for company.

Thanks for those of you that reviewed-- its rather encouraging to hear feedback, and it helps me to write better. Comments, suggestions, critisims on this chapter? Feel free to review or message me.