8 A Magical Morning

Violent gasps for air soundlessly escape my mouth as I scramble to tear my mask off. My sweat-drenched hands slip off the couch as I try desperately to grip onto my surroundings. Slow but surely, I get my breathing under control enough to realize I'm no longer in my uniform.

When did I change into my pajamas? I think, sitting up and sleepily rubbing my eye. A yawn escapes my breath as I move my hand to wave it away. As my hand gets to my mouth the lack of my mask dawns on me, waking me up in an instant.

Scrambling, I speed to my trunk only to find something that even overpowered my panic. My uniform, now with its Ravenclaw accents, sat folded neatly on my now graffiti-free trunk but that wasn't all. On top of my uniform sat a new black, blue, and silver cloth mask with the Ravenclaw crest knitted into the top left corner next to a folded piece of parchment paper.

Curiosity swats the panic out of my mind as I stop to unfold the note.

Dear Catlyn,

The House-elves decided to change one of your masks to Ravenclaw colors, I hope you don't mind. Meet me after dinner, I have something important to talk to you about.

From, Professor Flintwick.

The curiosity doesn't fade, it's only met with fear as the words play around in the back of my head. Trying to push negative thoughts out, I slip the mask on as I grab my robes only to be met with yet another obstacle. How am I going to shower? Where are the showers anyway?

Looking around, I scan the shelves until my eyes land upon a copy of Hogwarts: A History. Quickly, I search the table of contents to find the Ravenclaw section. Speeding through the section I land upon the chapter on the Ravenclaw Common rooms.

The Ravenclaw common room's most distinct feature would have to be, aside from it being built like a labyrinth, its multitude of hidden areas. This includes the vanishing rooms behind the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, study rooms, heck even hidden libraries inside hidden libraries. It is a Ravenclaw tradition to pass down found passageways verbally, which is why you will not find any guides on them, aside from two, the other previously mentioned. Due to the multitude of complaints, the passageway to the public bathroom and showers is an exception. To get to it you must push down the toes of the left foot for the men's, and the right for the women's.

Makes sense why people would complain, I think as I grab my uniform, wand holster, toiletries, and stroll over to the Rowena Ravenclaw statue. Barley reaching, I push the right toes down. The statue silently glides backward, revealing a stone staircase hidden under it.

Wandering down, the statue slides over me as I make it a fair bit down to be greeted by a wooden door. Why would the door for the bathrooms be made out of wood? Form over function I suppose.

I chuckle to myself as I open the door. My eyes are forced to squint as twilight hits me. My eyes finally adjusting, I'm greeted by a circular room illuminated by four massive arched windows sitting too high to see anything but the sky. in the dead center of the room towered a marble cylindrical pillar with sinks embedded around the base.

The dark stone floor dipped in slightly, allowing water to puddle; that would be the case at least if there weren't drains on the very bottom of the pillar. Two different types of stalls stood on the walls, each occupying opposite halves of the room. The left side had stalls with doors that went all the way down to the bottom, The right stalls' doors did not.

Opening one of the stalls on the left, I find it to be a shower with two shelves in a back corner, one high enough to not get hit by the water spray but, luckily, not high enough to be out of my reach.

Not knowing if I'm alone, I hop into the stall, set my clothes on the top shelf, put my toiletries on the bottom one, and let the freezing cold rain down on me.

After beating down my wavy hair to become straight, I struggle to put my robes on in the cramped stall as I shuffle out of the bathroom, taking my toiletries and pajamas with me. My trek through the labyrinth that is the Ravenclaw tower to my trunks encounters zero people. Do I seriously wake up so early? I mean I knew that Father woke up way later than me but I just thought that was because he's old. I wonder what Father would be doing at the moment?

The silence that permeated the halls felt weird. I mean, even when I woke up early at home I was greeted by soft honks and the muttering of crowds in the distance. But here, nothing. No trains rumbling, the odd witch breaking traffic laws with her broom, not even the smell of Ms. Sugarplums freshly baked sweets.

My stomach rumbles at the thought as I take my stash of blood packs and my copy of Animal Farm out of my newly hidden trunks. Stuffing my blood packs in a random sack hidden on the bottom of my trunk, I stroll through the common room. As I make my way to Earl, with a spring in my step, I can't help but admire the common room. The dark wood bookshelves gloss gleam from the warm candles. Even with your shoes on you could just tell how soft the carpet is just by the look of it.

'Morning Earl!' I write after stepping out of him.

"Morning?" the old scholarly voice hesitantly greets back.

Even the mild confusion of Earl doesn't wipe the smile I woke up with. This is it! Hogwarts! I finally get to put to use the thing I've been selling, finally get to cast magic! I never showed that much magic growing up, then again, I was too busy being in pain and afraid to be accidentally giving people pigtails. Although even after that I never really showed magic, I was invited so…

"Hold it right there," A grainy voice cuts off my daydreaming as well as freezes me right after stepping out of the locker.

I turn to see the receding hairline of Mr. Filch. My blood begins to pump as I can feel the oxygen leave my brain.

"What are you doing up so early," His unwavering stare steals my feeling of innocence immediately.

I fumble through my sack for my notepad as my location dawns on me. Looking out the window next to us I count the floors to confirm my suspicions, I'm on the third floor! I must have gone left on the latter instead of right! All thought leaves me as I try to stammer, fumbling my notepad.

"Ye nevr' heard of a early riser before, Argus?" A burly Scottish voice responds behind me, causing me to jump as Hagrid's massive hand lands on my shoulder.

"What first-year wakes up at five in the morning?" Mr. Filch retorts, not taking an eye off me.

"If it makes ya feel better I'll walk her," Hagrid responds, giving a massive grin as he points to himself. Mr. Filch stammers and a gleam of anger shines in his eyes. He begins to chew on his thumb as he pounds his foot.

"Fine," he grunts between his teeth as she stomps off.

"That old coot, always wantin' to give a firs' year grief." Hagrid remarks after Filch makes it out of earshot. I grab my notepad off the ground as I turn to him.

'Thank you, Mr. Hagrid.' I write to him as I try to leave.

"Ya lookin' fer the kitchen? If ya wan' I can show ya?" What, I don't know where the kitchen is, do I? My stomach begins to rumble again as the extreme excitement no longer covers it up. I quickly nod as a loud chuckle flies out from Hagrid.

"Alright, follow me." The silence rings out as he guides me through the halls. Isn't it weird that silence always seems fine unless you're with someone? It's like the company of someone just makes it feel like their voice should come with it. Is this what people feel like when they're with me?

"That Flitch, he's bin patrolin' these halls since before I was at Hogwarts. Him and that cat. Ye know, I wouldn't keep Fang cooped up in my house if it weren't for that blasted cat. Ye know I think he makes her follow me every time I come in." His rambles fill the silence as a portion of it piques my interest.

'Who's Fang?' I question, knowing it's probably a dog.

"Fang? Why he's my pup, and a great one." He seems to beam with pride as we step onto the Grand Staircase. I marvel in awe as he leads me onto it. All sizes, colors, and styles of staircases fly around seemingly randomly.

As the section we're on begins to move, I race to the side and look down to struggle to see the bottom, even with my eyes! How did they do this? Wingardiam? No, that simple spell wouldn't be enough to do all of this.

'My friend has a Crup, she's adorable,' I finally respond after we leave the Grand Staircase, and my nerd-out ends.

"Really! Those are rare, shame though abou' their tails," he adds bitterly as we pass by the Great Hall, "I don't think I could do that to Fang." Nether could Zach. I snicker at that as Hagrid leads me to a big portrait of a bowl of fruit.

He approaches the portrait as he gives the pear. The pear squirms a little as the portrait opens a crack. A familiar yet odd smell floats through the crack. It slightly causes me to lose balance but it isn't overpowering.

The smell is definitely a living creature yet it's different from humans. It's similar to wizards but doesn't have that fragrant punch to it, like a diluted version with an alien spice mixed in.

"What's her name?" He asks as he opens the portrait up for me.

'Maxi,' I respond as he helps me over the lip. Four tables, in similar size to the ones in the Great Hall, line parallel across the room. Along the walls sit cabinets, sinks, and shelves. Directly across the room stands a little inlet with fire and other cooking-related instruments.

Little skinny child-sized men with massive ears scramble around the room. They wear dirty sacks. One elf with a stack of dirty pots and pans races over.

"Master Hagrid! Cimsy wasn't expecting you! How may-" The squeaky greeting is cut short as her eyes wander to me, causing her to crash. As the smoke clears, A short, compared to the rest of them, House-elf just sits in the middle of the mess. Her ears, which seem more disproportionate to her body than the rest, droop to the floor. her big purple eyes hold back tears as her mouth quivers.

Instinct kicks in as I immediately move to her side and rub her hairless head. Her big eyes look up at me, yes I'm taller, as she fights back tears.

'It's fine, it's fine. Cimsy did good greeting us,' I write to her as a grin spreads across her round face and her ears shoot straight up, only for her mood to dim again.

"Sorry masters! Cimsy forgets that she's not supposed to greet masters," She semi-rants to herself as she pops up from the ground and begins to clean.

"It's fine," Hagrid stammers out, not sure what to do.

"What can Cimsy do for master Hagrid and mistress?"

'Ollivander, Catlyn Ollivander' I respond as Cimsy finishes stacking the dirty pots and pans on the edge of the table.