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A night In The Castle
Topic Started: 16 Aug 2009, 04:21 PM (503 Views)
Ron Weasley
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Hands folded behind his head, Ron Weasley exhausted a furtive sigh as he found himself staring blankly up at the ceiling. Well, up at the ceiling of his four poster bed anyways, considering it did block his view of the true ceiling. Ok, so inspecting the condition of one's living quarters wasn't exactly the ideal way to spend what was left of the first day back, but Ron didn't see that he had much choice. The feast had ended around an hour or so ago, and as there was still some light visible past the windows, Ron suspected that his roommates had taken advantage of those remaining hours outdoors. It's not like he disagreed with the idea at all, as he normally was all for getting out of the castle, but at the moment he didn't feel like strutting about looking for fellow Gryffindors. It just wasn't worth the bother. He muttered something incomprehensible before proceeding to shifting his position, now lying somewhat more comfortably on his stomach.

The red hair that distinguished him as apart of the Weasley family was in defiant disarray, but Ron made no notion that he seemed to care. It wasn't like he ever brushed it anyways and despite his mother's pleas everytime she caught sight of him, Ron hadn't the slightest interest in starting now. Being as it was relatively short, one wouldn't notice as easily unless they were close enough to seriously care about that sort of thing.

Drumming his fingers lightly across the cool fabric of his pillow, Ron couldn't help but feel the faint tug of anxiety pulsing through him. Honestly, he desperately wanted something to do, anything, anything other than lounging about in the boys dormitory. He knew that he should be thankful for this moment of peace and quiet after all the unpleasant happenings of last term, but he had never been one for enjoying the solitude of silence. Pushing himself up off the bed, Ron surveyed the room once before exiting down the stairs to the Common Room. He didn't know where he had planned on going, but perhaps a nice walk to clear his head would suffice.

Vanishing quickly through the Portrait of the Fat Lady, Ron started down the hallway as the painting squeaked shut behind him. The first thing he noticed about the corridors was that they were fairly musty; a lingering smell like that of old parchment seemed to mix with the repulsive scent of sweat. Just wonderful. Geez, the sooner he got onto one of the lower floors the better.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his black uniform trousers, Ron continued his lazy saunter down the staircases until he finally realized that he'd arrived on the third floor. He didn't quite understand what made him do it, but Ron's mind had suddenly become intrigued at the prospect of visiting the Trophy Room. Alright so only a nutter would spend a perfectly good evening visiting the Trophy Room, but already being so close, ron couldn't shake the feeling. His very name was hiding somewhere amongst a vast sea of golden treasures and the entrance was all but a few feet away. He smirked as the possibility went to his head. The though of goggling at his own name amongst the hundreds of trophies by of choice rather than for serving a detention was much more appealing to him than it should have. Besides, no one even knew he was there, and if he timed it right, no one ever would.
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Magnolia Moon
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It was hard to find a quiet place in Hogwarts. Typically she’d go and sit by the lake, but it was rather crowded, friends all going to see each other and continue conversations from the feast, or from on the train. So she’d had to improvise, and find a new spot to read. It was hard. Even the library was too crowded and loud. Which seemed very odd to her, since libraries were typically supposed to be very quiet places, where people could retreat to in order to get studying and homework done. To her it hadn’t seemed like any studying was getting done in that library.She'd simply wondered the halls for half an hour or so, before coming across the Trophy Room. No one ever came to the Trophy Room. Not by choice, at least. It only ever seemed to be occupied by people who'd gotten detention, and were forced to clean and polish the golden and silver medals, plaques, and trophies without magical aid as a punishment.

She'd certainly never gotten a punishment, and therefore hardly spent any time in the room. She'd only passed it a couple of times on the way to classes, or when she'd gotten lost. She actually got lost quite frequently. No matter if this was her seventh year, she nearly always lost her way in the large castle. It was impossible for her to remember all the turns and twists of the halls, and which staircases had the tendency to change, and which way they changed to. She'd always admired those people who could find their way perfectly, with their eyes closed. She probably wouldn't even be able to find her way back to the dungeons after this. Although, when she got lost, most times, she'd simply keep taking staircases down, and eventually she'd find herself in the dungeons.

After that, the real hard part was finding the entrance to the Common Room. And that could very well take her hours.

She edged her way into the Trophy Room, eyes wide and taking in all the glittering awards, and glorified names. There was a distinct air of history here. There were names from all sorts of students of all ages, from over a thousand years back in here. It was a rather exciting thought, all that history in one room. She traced some of the names on the trophies as she walked down one of the rows, smiling to herself as she thought about all of it. What had these students been like? There were some very unusual award in here. One that said; 'For Showing An Outstanding Amount of Sympathy', and another that read; 'For Eating The Most Kidney Pie At the Start-of-Term Feast'. It was very interesting, if a tad bit on the odd side.

She wedged herself between two of the rows, and pulled her knees up, using them to prop her book up on and open it up. She'd begun to read a book called 'Frankenstein' by a muggle authoress, Mary Shelley. She did love muggle literature. Particularly the old kind, of the horror genre. They weren't so much scary, as they had a sort of classical edge to them. Something that made her wonder if there had really ever been a time when such things were said, or thought.
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