Colours of my soul (Oneshot series)

Harry Potter

It wasn't easy being the new student at Hogwarts, especially after five years of being homeschooled by your conservative parents. The entire school environment, the many other students and events overwhelmed you to the point of mental exhaustion, which made you spend most of your time hiding in the library or locked in your room.

Most Hogwarts students had never laid eyes on you, and others had never even heard your name. For you that was a relief, you didn't want to meet them either. Perhaps it was your reclusive upbringing style, but your social skills weren't very well developed, and being surrounded by too many people was an extremely stressful and draining situation that you avoided whenever possible, even organizing yourself to eat meals at less popular times.

You followed the school news by listening to clipped conversations on the way to class or in the gossip your roommate told you, and in all of that gossiping the same names were repeated: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. You could barely imagine what their lives must have been like, being involved in absolutely everything that happened at Hogwarts, and you were even more shocked that you had never seen them in person, even though you had been trapped in the same castle as them for four months. From what you knew of the group, they were always surrounded by people, which was something you avoided, so it wasn't all that strange that you never bumped into each other.

It was a Tuesday night and you were in the library, sitting at a table by the window, reviewing your Potions course. McGonagall had sent out some extra activities for you to try to keep up with the other classmates, but it wasn't that easy.

Your head was starting to ache as you tried to find the right words for your transfiguration essay, and that's when your gaze wandered to a piece of the table, next to your books, that was scratched as if someone had used a blade to stab the wood. The small act of vandalism read "I'm bored" followed by a sad face.

You smiled, amused. Whoever it was had bad, messy handwriting.

"I have a headache" You wrote below using your quill. You knew the person wouldn't see the answer, but wanted to answer anyway.

You decided that was enough for studies for the day and gathered your things back to your common room.

The next day in the afternoon you returned to the library and sat at the same table as the day before, and to your surprise there was a new message, in the same handwriting as the previous one. "I hope you're feeling better"

You took out your quill and wrote just below the message "You should stop vandalizing school property", but you didn't really mean it, you actually found the situation quite fun.

You looked around for any clue that might reveal who the author of the messages was, but there was nothing. You decided to take your focus away from that and dedicate to the activities you needed to finish for the next day.

Coming back from dinner you tried to control the urge to go to the library to see if they had answered you again, it would be a total change on the way to your dorm and it wasn't even that important. Still your curiosity got the better of you and you said goodbye to your housemates, walking in the opposite direction.

Fulfilling your expectations, there was a new scrawl on the wood, but this time written in ink instead of scratching, which indicated that the person had taken your last message into consideration.

"Who are you?" It was the written question.

As you were out of your school supplies, you borrowed a quill from the next table so that you could answer.

"I don't think I'll tell you" You liked this dynamic of talking to someone without knowing who they were, and without that person knowing who you were either. You weren't sure you wanted to ruin this.