The Muse {An HP FF}

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: None of the Harry Potter characters in this story and most settings belong to me; this all belongs to the wonderful talented J.K. Rowling. Well except Armadi, she's a figment of my imagination. 

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"Armadi," I felt some one try to shake me awake for the second time. "Wake up!"

"Shut up Hermione," I grumbled as I threw my pillow at her.

I heard her sigh. "Armadi, please don't make this more complicated than it has to be."

"Get outtttttt."

"Fine!"

I felt her tug off my covers, exposing me to the cold air.

"Nooo," I whined, moving my arms around blindly, looking for them.

"Get up! You're going to be late for our first class!" She grabbed my feet and yanked me off my bed.

"So cold!" I sprang up from the chilly wooden floor, dancing in circles until I jumped back on bed. 

"Whyyy," I pouted.

"Time to go to school Mads."

"But we are at school."

"Okay," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Let me rephrase that: Time for BREAKFAST."

I jumped down from my bed and ran into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Food food food, wonderful food.

15 minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom, towel drying my hair. I went back into the now nearly empty dormitory where I saw Hermy struggling with her impossibly frizzy hair.

"Ah child, you never do learn," I said wisely, walking over. I slapped her hands away from the bushy mess and took out my smoothing conditioner from my trunk.

"First you smoothen," I said applying it to her hair. "Then, you comb it gently." I got through all the tough knots, which only left her hair puffier.

"Then I sing a melody," I said, already starting a sweet tune. I sang through the whole process, until her hair laid in neat smooth curls.

"You're welcome," I said, putting down her brush.

"I will never know how you could do that," she said, running her fingers through her hair.

"Neither will I," I admitted.

Hermione's expression turned serious. "Mads," she turned around to face me. "Why can you sing like that?"

I shrugged, expecting the question to come up sooner or later.

"I don't know Ninny," I said, fixing my own hair. "I've been thinking about that alot lately." I finished and looked up at her. "You know Rowena right?"

"Ravenclaw?"

"Yeah," I picked up Pip as he stretched on my leg. "Yesterday, while we were waiting to be sorted, a  ghost came up to me and told me I remind her of her mother, Rowena. Then the Sorting Hat said I come from Ravenclaw descent, even though I was muggleborn. Said I shared Ravenclaw's gift."

"Rowena Ravenclaw had a gift?"

"Apparently," I straightened my school tie. "Do you know what it could be?"

"Well..." She said thoughtfully, "I knew she had a magical diadem, but its long gone now..."

We walked down the stairs and out the portrait hole, discussing possibilities.

"So, then you're possibly related to Ravenclaw?"

"I don't know, maybe...or maybe that hat is a loony piece of cloth," I said entering the great hall. "It's supposed to be made for sorting, not telling people about their past."