The Ravenclaw common room was ablaze with sun, the bronze of portrait frames and satin upholstery glinting brightly against the backdrop of calm, strong blue. Despite the know-it-all stereotype, the room was always packed with diverse characters. I was the quiet type, never known to elicit more than a smile or a shrug; I tended to remain within the shadows of Hogwarts castle. In my first year I kept mostly to myself, trying to settle into the schedule of things. I planned out my courses for the next seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before I even passed first year mid terms. I’d been waiting a long time to call the infamous castle in Scotland my home, and to meet the illustrious teachers there. I wasn’t the first in my family to attend, but I was the most recent. I’d discovered most of my magical passions that year, among them transfiguration and an unspoken obsession with animagi.
In second year I developed a fascination with the castle itself. There were so many secrets; so many suspicious portraits that seemed to be concealing something within them; too many revolving walls and moving staircases. My curiosity drove me into creating an extracurricular of my own, aside from the offered Frog Choir or Muggle Music that were popular among my peers. In my third year, of which this tale of discovery and new beginnings takes place, my solitary musings were disrupted in what began a new trend of sociability for the student that was used to being invisible.
Fred and George, the Weasley twins from fourth year Gryffindor, saw me using an exit to the castle grounds behind the Gildameer statue one weekend and seemed impressed that I’d known it was there. They asked me if I had a map. We’ve been friends ever since, though I’m still not sure why. They promised to drag me to every Quidditch game they attended - couldn’t possibly force me to go to theirs, though. The twins were Beaters for their house team. They still think I’ll fall in love with the sport any day now. Besides the occasional trip out with the twins to explore the castle or go to Quidditch, my dorm mates, Darwinnia Simpott, Iris Pembers, and Phoebe Chang, all included me in their study groups and little common room parties, but I was always partial to observe rather than partake. They didn’t push the matter and we all remained close throughout the years at Hogwarts we spent together.
My professors that first term in third year all got along with me well. The Charms Professor Filius Flitwick was always helpful, especially as Ravenclaw’s head of house, although a bit scatterbrained. I had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, as usual, first term of every year. It was exceedingly difficult, but worth it for the power. She was my favourite, I think. Minerva McGonagall never favoured any student, and was fair and strict, but never malicious. Speaking of malicious, the potions master Professor Snape seemed to have an air of stoic approval whenever I’d completed a potion right, and I rarely got in trouble with him because I never spoke out or even raised my hand in class. If I didn’t understand something, I’d read the textbook five times then watch Severus like a hawk while he gave demonstrations. I’d taken on Arithmancy that year as an elective, on top of the new course of Divination with Professor Trelawney, which proved to be … strange. But juggling the two subjects was difficult and I struggled through Arithmancy. I gave into simple memorization when I couldn’t bring myself to actually comprehend the lessons. On the first day of each week, students filed out to the castle grounds for a Care of Magical Creatures lesson with the gamekeeper, Hagrid. This was a newly introduced course for third years at Hogwarts, and it quickly became a favourite among students. Herbology with Professor Sprout was more dangerous than it sounded, and although I loved to read through my texts all about gillyweed and mandrake root, the class was rather unpredictable and often resulted in trips to the hospital wing for my classmates who did not take it seriously. I feared Herbology far more than Potions, unlike most students, especially after that Ingens Flore broke loose of Greenhouse Three in second year and almost swallowed the Hufflepuff head boy’s arm.
Most of my immediate family were surprised I wasn’t picked for Slytherin by the Sorting Hat first year, and I admit that would have been a fine place for me as well, but I think I would have been raised differently. Maybe I would be more powerful, who knows. But knowledge is power, and the motto of mental motivation that accompanied being a Ravenclaw was good enough for me. Both I and the hat knew what was in my heart, and I don’t regret my placement in the least.

Now, this story begins in the autumn of that term, on the second Monday of October, 1993. It was the start of my next greatest adventure since coming to Hogwarts, and one that would last well past my time as a student there. Though the summer sun was still shining over Scotland, the trees had begun to wilt and wither; ready to shed their leafy shells for the cold skeletal silhouettes of winter. When we went out to the courtyard, our cloaks were wrapped tight around us, and several Quidditch teams had begun training in their winter robes - already - as Fred and George were quick to point out. Hagrid had begun to seed his pumpkin patch, and Ravenclaws were already thinking anxiously about the midterms that would arrive just before Halloween. I was still settling into my classes, just trying to blend into the hallways and mind my own business as usual. Then something most unexpected happened.