The Boy With Black Eyes

Littlewood

The Ravenclaw Common Room was circular, due to its location in the upper parts of the tower. But that didn't stop Melissa from going all-out when it came to the Christmas decorations. After several days of recuperation from the strenuous night of reading with Nox, she'd arrived at the time every student loves: the weekend.

Up early, outrageously early, to take over from a Hufflepuff prefect who had drawn the short straw when it came to patrol route and hours, she took a minute to appreciate the gold and blue and bronze that decorated the dark pine in the center of the circular room. The couches had been re-arranged, the bookshelves that lined the room had been alphabetized by a bunch of rowdy third-years last night, after a prefect caught them out of bed after curfew.

She took the stairs down two at a time, wearing her jeans and a soft pair of moccasins that stopped her footsteps from echoing off the stone floor, onto the stone walls. Her patrol route involved a lot of stairs, as she dipped into every Common Room on her way around, just ensuring people were still asleep at this ungodly hour.

The Gryffindor Common Room was being cleaned by the house-elves when she arrived, who rapidly apologized for her seeing them in their high squeaking voices. She reassured them that it was no matter to her, and even offered to give them a hand for a few moments, as apparently the party had gotten pretty rowdy last night. Gryffindor had trumped Hufflepuff royally in a Quidditch match, with the ending score being something like 350 to 100, more than cringe-worthy. The house-elves insisted they didn't need her help, and excusing herself, Melissa continued on her rounds.

When she passed a window, she became of just how early it was. Granted, Hogwarts was fairly far North, so the sun might not rise over the winter-y landscape for more than an hour, but just the very edge of the horizon had been tinged periwinkle from the gigantic ball of hot gas. No orange, no red, no gold on the underside of the clouds skittering around in the still dark sky. Somebody had been walking around outside last night, as paths had been carved in the otherwise virginal snow-drifts, one leading toward the forest from the entrance hall, one leading over the shortcut to get to Hogsmeade, another cutting from the greenhouses to Hagrid's Hut.

The thought of the gatekeeper had her smiling on her way to the Hufflepuff Common Room. She'd had to drop Care of Magical Creatures at the NEWT level, but last year, when Turul collapsed and was barely breathing, the illness striking him seemingly out of nowhere, she'd carried her falcon, screaming and crying out to the hut, and begged the huge man to help her. God, it must have been ten o'clock at night, but she waited anxiously at his oversize kitchen table, as he looked over her familiar and nursed him back to consciousness. It had turned out to be parrot fever, and over a two-week period, Turul had been pampered and taken care of, living in Hagrid's direct care, and returned to her with strong, glossy feathers and bright, clear eyes.

There probably wasn't a more compassionate and caring man in the whole world. She was making him baking powder biscuits for Christmas, early in the morning. Maybe he'd start serving those instead of rock cakes when people came for tea. Or scones. Really anything but rock cakes. 

The Hufflepuff Basement was empty except for Alex, the Head Boy, who was arranging the gifts that had been placed under his tree, a gift exchange occurring just before everyone went home for the winter holiday. It made sure that everybody got a little something for Christmas or Hanukkah or Diwali or whatever winter-time holiday that was celebrated by their family. The cap this year was five Galleons. She'd overspent. But she always did.

Her rounds next took her down the stairs into the dungeons, taking the long way around, as she always enjoyed the lower bowels of the castle, unused and hiding secrets. Much of her time patrolling as a prefect had been spent looking through classrooms that held stacks and stack of desk, books, chairs... She'd stumbled into  massive old Ashwinder nests more than once and had to report it immediately to the Head Girls who had proceeded her. But often, she'd find beautiful little treasures. A collection of albino peacock feathers in a geometric style vase, standing in a solitary shaft of sunlight, reflecting purples and pinks and yellows and beiges across the room. Another room held the glassy, delicate structure of a unicorn skeleton in full rear. Other things of beauty that had caught her eye over the years, which she had left in their places, but kept an inventory on, in case they were moved or stolen.