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The Ravenclaw common room is usually filled with a soft, pleasant chatter. With exams approaching – and O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s for some – the chatter had grown quicker and more serious. Each surface, including the floor, was covered in flapping books as a flurry of revision swept through.
“My Charms notes were just here!”
Terry Boot’s voice cut through the noise. Anthony Goldstein, a tired-looking prefect, looked on as his friend lifted no less than twelve books spread around them.
“Are you certain we need them right now?” Anthony asked mildly. “Charms will be a cinch.”
Terry raised his hands. “Yes, but if we don’t find them now –“
The common room door shut with a loud slam. The roomful of tousled heads looked up as a boy entered the room. He was a dark, handsome boy, and some might have looked a bit longer if not for the furious scowl twisting his face.
Terry and Anthony shared an uneasy glance.
“Do you mind if I go see about that?” Anthony asked.
“Please do,” Terry sighed. “You’re better at this than I am.”
Anthony stood and smoothed his robes, unconsciously straightening the silver badge on his chest. As he entered the stairs to the dorms, the other students turned back to their books. With exams approaching, their lives held no room for teenage theatrics.
Anthony stood briefly outside the fifth-year boys’ dorm, taking a deep breath and needlessly smoothing his robes again. He made a quick, loud knock on the door.
“What?” came a strangled shout from inside.
Anthony slipped into the room, carefully closing the door before pausing to observe his friend.
Michael Corner was standing over the small set of drawers near his bed. He never turned around, but as Anthony watched, he pulled out handfuls of crumpled parchment and threw them angrily onto the bed.
“What’s up, Michael?” Anthony asked placidly. He took a seat on Michael’s bed and gingerly drew one of the pages closer. It was covered in a bold, loopy handwriting and signed, Ginny. Anthony quietly pushed it away.
“Do you need anything, or are you just here to bother me?” Michael snapped.
“I’m here because you’re clearly upset,” said Anthony diplomatically.
“Yeah, well,” Michael growled, slamming a drawer and turning around. “I’m not upset anymore.”
Anthony lifted his eyebrows, and Michael scowled.
“It’s over. Ginny dumped me.” He kicked a small book that had fallen to the ground.
“Oh,” said Anthony. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“God, can you drop the prefect act for one fucking second, please?”
Anthony exhaled, deflating his posture bit. “That’s fucking awful news, mate.”
“That’s better.”
The two boys were quiet for several seconds, waiting until Michael’s fury built up and erupted again.
“Fucking Quidditch!” he shouted. “She dumped me over fucking Quidditch. But that’s fine, yeah? If a girl cares more about some stupid sport than she does about your relationship, then good riddance to her.”
Anthony nodded solemnly. “She is rather fixed on it.”
“And fucking Gryffindor. They win everything, don’t they? Can’t they just stop trying to steamroll everyone else for one bloody second? But anyway,” Michael huffed. “I’m over it.”
He sniffled, and Anthony noticed that the skin around his eyes looked puffy. Soon he started blinking uncontrollably.
“She called me stupid, Anthony,” he said, but the anger had drained from his voice. “She was very dismissive.”
Anthony watched in mild distress as Michael scrubbed a hand across his face. Cautiously, he stood and opened his skinny arms, and Michael gratefully fell into his friend’s embrace. He buried his face into Anthony’s shoulder, and the prefect winced at the thought of what this might be doing to his pristine robes.
At that most inopportune moment, the door briskly opened, and there stood a horrified Terry Boot.
“Oh, god,” said Terry weakly. “I was really just coming for my Charms notes.”
Thankfully, Michael gathered himself together and withdrew from Anthony’s arms. He gave his friend an appreciative pat on the back.
“It’s all right, Terry. I’m over it.”
Anthony eyed Michael uncertainly, wondering if he could believe him this time, while Terry just stared in terror.
“Yeah?” Terry asked. “That’s good, Michael.” He shot Anthony a panicked look for confirmation.
“Ginny dumped him,” Anthony explained. “Quite rudely, as I understand it."
Terry’s shock melted into knowing disgust. “Ugh. That figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael challenged.
“Ah – “ Terry sputtered. “You know. Gryffindors?”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “You realize Hermione Granger’s a Gryffindor, right?”
“Yes, but Hermione should have been in Ravenclaw,” Terry answered haughtily, his cheeks going pink.
Anthony rolled his eyes, grinning. While he and his friends were occupied, a black-and-white cat had pounced onto Michael’s bed, tempted by the wadded-up paper. He scooped up the cat and brought it over to his own bed. Reaching into his set of drawers, he pulled out a tiny mouse plush, and the cat’s eyes widened.
“You know,” Anthony said thoughtfully, dangling the toy in front of his cat. “I think you’re both unfairly prejudiced against Gryffindors, but perhaps there’s a bit of wisdom in it.”
He felt the other two looking at him curiously, so he continued.
“Maybe you’d be better off with a nice Ravenclaw girl, Michael. Think about it. They’re easier to talk to, you’ll always be on the same side for Quidditch, and you can spend time together in the common room. Convenient and nice, right?”
He tossed the mouse toy across the room, and the eager cat tore off after it.
Michael shook his head. “You and that bloody cat, mate.”
“Anthony does have a point,” said Terry. “There’s plenty of smart, lonely girls here in Ravenclaw.” He paused to consider his words, wondering if any of these girls could possibly compare to Hermione Granger.
“I appreciate it, both of you,” said Michael. “But I might need to take a break, yeah? It’s been hard,” he said, sighing without a hint of irony. “Anyway, I’m going back downstairs, all right?”
“Sure,” piped Terry.
“We’ll come join you,” Anthony said to Michael. “After we locate these mysterious Charms notes.”
Terry and Anthony’s smiles fossilized as the door fell shut.
“Was he really crying?” Terry whispered frantically.
“Nearly sobbing.”
“God, what a mess!”
“No worries,” Anthony assured him. “He’s going scope out the scene right now. He’ll have another girlfriend in no time.”
Terry pondered this with a small, tidy frown.
“And what about us?” he asked matter-of-factly.
Anthony reached down to rescue the mouse toy before tossing it again. “Sorry, what?”
Spotting something else on the floor, he bent down again to snatch up a stray sheet of paper. “I think these are your notes, by the way.”
Terry shook his head.
“Maybe I should get a cat,” he muttered, taking the offered notes. “Apparently, it’s the only true antidote to loneliness.”