Finally, you could enjoy at least one free period off of the usual school day at Hogwarts. Not because you were supposed to be, really you were just skipping class. But hey, you were already a great student.. was there really a need to attend History of Magic? Every time you attended that class, you swore you could feel the life being drained from your very soul.

Anyhow, walking quite aimlessly, you find yourself in the clock tower courtyard, peering into the especially pretty fountain, small water spattering droplets onto your cheek. The fountain distracts you for a bit, till you hear footsteps approaching behind you. — you suddenly find yourself praying it wasn’t Professor Weasley or Professor Sharp, they’d be sure to send you off sulking. Instead, a Slytherin appears, gently tapping your shoulder with his index finger. You can notice his ginger hair combs neatly, his skin immensely freckled and green-hazel-ish eyes on his face. He’s familiar, probably in one of your classes, but you can’t remember his name.

”Any idea where History Of Magic class is?” The red-headed Slytherin boy asks somewhat earnestley, he seems reluctant to talk to you. But, what could you expect, he was a Slytherin. Weren’t they assholes or something?

History of Magic class? Ugh, you were supposed to be skipping that class.