Harry Potter Imagines

fluff-C.D.

You remember when it all started. It was four months ago. You had just had a particularly hard day, you were late to Charms and got 5 points taken from your house, you spilled ink all over your positions essay, you got pumpkin juice on your blouse and forgot about a very difficult quiz in DADA. You were heading to the back of the library to choose a book when something fell out of the large amounts of papers you were holding. You groaned bending down to pick it up as you did you glance at the contents of the page and your heart stopped.

It took you only a second to figure out what was on the paper. It was you. You were glaring down at a notebook, your eyes appearing to shine as you clutched a quill in your right hand. Your hair hanging in front of your frustrated face, your lips drawn into a thin line. It was the best drawing you had ever seen, for a second you thought it was a photograph. But it was a drawing, a drawing of you, a drawing of you that looked so realistic it almost scared you. The pencil marks were flowing yet sharp, shading was done in just the right places to give your face depth. It was like looking in a black and white mirror.

You stood in the middle of the hallway for what must have been a good five minutes just staring at the photo in amazement. You then realized what you were doing and continued to the library.

From there the drawings became a normal part of your life. You would usually receive five to six a week in your bag, waiting at your desk or even in your dorm room. You had no idea how they managed to swing that. Each one was more beautiful than the last and you swear that they made you look much prettier in the drawing than you really were. Most were done in pencil a few in quill and one in charcoal. Each one seemed to be a different mood, sometimes you would be scowling, sometimes smirking, sometimes smiling and one was even of you with your head down on a desk your eyes closed and your hair hanging in your face. The ones you received the most were ones of you laughing. Your lips split open in a smile and your eyes crinkled or just shut altogether.

Many times you had tried to find the artist who had drawn you without luck. They never left any notes or indications and it made it extremely difficult to find the culprit. You wished for nothing more than to meet and thank the person who had brought so much happiness into your life with their artwork. But they never revealed themselves even after four months, nothing. You began to worry, what if they never revealed themselves? It was your last year after all, you would be leaving in a few months. Eventually, you stopped looking and simply hoped they would reveal themselves.

"Ms. Y/l/n," McGonagall called to you.

"Yes, Professor?" You asked your arms full of books as you made your way back to your common room.

"Could you please follow me? I have something we need to discuss." She clipped, beckoning for you to follow her.

Your eyebrows scrunched together in momentary confusion before following the orders you had been given.

As you followed McGonagall through the castle you wracked your brain for what you could have possibly done wrong. Did they think you cheated on an exam? Did they find your stash of food in your dorm? Surely that wasn't that big of a deal. Then you remembered the bottle of firewhiskey under your bed and fear rose in your throat. What if they expelled you? What would you do? Your heart pounding you were lead into a room expecting all of hell to rain upon you, but when it opened you were greeted by Dumbledore's warm smile.

"Ahh Y/n, looks as if the last of you have arrived."

You glanced around the room and easily recognized two-thirds of the famous fourth-year trio and a young girl you didn't recognize.

McGonagall went to talk to Dumbledore as you made your way over to Ron and Hermione.

"Umm do you guys know what going on?" You asked as you approached them.