the unexpected letter ((anyone))

[Rosaliz Hernandez G6]

The atmosphere on the Hogwarts grounds was just as cheerful and happy as it had been for a few weeks. Nothing that was visible to someone standing on the front steps would have looked even remotely out of place. Students continued their runs across the grass, playing whatever games their minds were focused on and not paying much attention to those around them. Nothing seemed to disturb this scene. At least nothing that anyone without a keen eye could see. Half way across the lawn moved a solitary figure, dragging behind it a single bag alongside a large cauldron in her other hand. The girl was about the same height as the first years running around the lawns at this time of day and smaller not only in height but also in body muscle to those in the years above. A solitary girl walking across the lawn was not out of the ordinary in anyway. In fact students at Hogwarts had been moving backwards and forwards from their homes and the school quite often in the past few weeks.

No. It was not the fact that the girl dragged her belongings along behind her but more the expression on her face that differed from others. Whereas those around her were smiling and laughing, or in some Slytherins cases snarling, the girl’s face was completely devoid of all emotion. There was no sign of what she was feeling and it would look to those around her that she was not thinking anything either, simply moving along quickly as if she knew her destination and did not need to worry herself about those around her. This however was not the case. Rosaliz's mind was flashing pictures of what she could see over and over again, making sure that she knew exactly where everyone around her was and had at least a rough idea of their year at Hogwarts. Of course this was purely based on size but she was sure she had a fairly good idea now. Even the air around the girl seemed to have darkened slightly as if light was fighting as hard as it could to get away from her.

A person who used to be rather skittish about cold weather had finally grown accustomed to it. At the moment, Rosaliz was walking along the Lake. Her blonde hair ruffling in the slight breeze, the Gryffindor continued her walk, glancing out at a hazy sun in the sky. It was barely discernible from what she could see, but it was still there, beaming down onto the earth and giving its inhabitants light and energy to live off of. Not one for the logistics and functions of things, Rosaliz instead reveled in the immense beauty around her. Naked trees, thin branches pointing out in all directions.

Letting out a small sigh, the Gryffindor walked away from the lakeside. It was usual for her to be so alone; Rosaliz had gotten into the habit of taking walks on her off time. Supposing that she needed to just get up and move on, as strange as everything seemed to her nowadays, the blue-eyed Gryffindor glanced up casually toward the castle. Now standing on a rock, staring down at the letter in her hands, still unsure what to make of it, or where it had really come from. How had it found her? Was someone watching her that she didn't know about? She didn't think so. The pendant around her neck was good for more than just one thing and it usually notified her if something was up but it hadn't given her any insight into such a thing. If someone was watching her, surely she would know. The pendant around her neck would tell her. It would tell her because the sun would know and the sun spoke to her through the pendant. But was there reason for it to not tell her and just let her hang in the balance? Rosaliz doubted that as well.

Giving a frustrated sigh, Rosaliz lifted the letter to her eyes once more so that she could read through it again.

Rosaliz,

The time is nearly here... Never you worry, you will know soon enough know who I am when the time comes… Then, come the holiday season, you will face your destiny…fear because time is of the essence.
I will be waiting, the clock is ticking….

She didn’t understand where this letter had been from. She was too occupied with her other problems. Was it possible that her aunt did this? It couldn’t be…She has never seen this type of penmanship before….angrily, Rosaliz stood. If somebody were to bother her that she didn’t know she would snap back and be very defensive. But who were to blame? She had been acting odd ever since her last encounter with her aunt.

[Aimee Sinclair S3]

The strong smell of damp grass hung in the air around the grounds of Hogwarts. Aimee Sinclair walked this damp grass with the poise and structure of a well mannered princess, walking to meet her loyal subjects in the village that her ancestors had worked so hard to create and maintain. Her mother, the most admirable woman in the world had once walked these grounds as well. Just like Aimee, Holly Reynolds (her maiden name had been Reynolds) had roamed these corridors and these grounds like the journalistic royalty she would one day become. Rita Skeeter was nothing compared to the sheer brilliance that was the Sinclair family. Rita had been an annoying little brat in her day, thriving off useless school gossip and other pointless subjects while Holly Reynolds had used her time wisely to develop her skills. She made connections with all the right people and made sure to keep a low profile with her journalistic ways. Thanks to that lovely young woman, Aimee knew more about this school before she even arrived than even many seventh years knew now. Holly took the time to absorb the words, personalities, and histories of her teachers and classmates, and thanks to that, Aimee could probably tell you anything there was to know about Professor so-and-so’s history or some kid’s parents. It was all a matter of using your time wisely and knowing what it was you wanted.

Letting out a long sigh of boredom, Aimee continued to walk with her hands deep in the pockets of her Slytherin robes, which she wore probably a bit too proudly. The past few weeks had been torture for Aimee. She had been rotting away here at school with absolutely nothing to do but well…school. There was no story to dig up, no one to try and coax information out of, and every bit of the castle had already been explored at least a dozen times. Her latest prey had finally wiggled her way out of Aimee’s clutches by giving her absolutely nothing to work with. She had worked so hard finding that damned letter only to find out that all the precious secrets it harbored were personally spilled by the girl herself not very long after. Now every last dirty little detail was out in the open and there was nothing left for Aimee to do but find a new prey. Her mother had given her no one to spy on for the moment, so she had to result to the very pathetic gossip that lingered around every normal, happy student wandering these grounds. There was no bright young star who needed to be followed, although Aimee did suspect that that infamous Eden Sweden girl secretly resided somewhere in these halls. Her mother had just been telling her this the other day through the fireplace. It was logical, wasn’t it? The young pop star obviously wanted a normal life, so she created a separate identity to make that dream a reality. Now it was just a question of finding out who the real Eden was.

Then she saw her. It seemed all too easy. In fact, it seemed to easy to be true. Somewhere off into the distance stood a blonde little girl roughly about the height, size, and build of Eden Sweden. She was a Gryffindor, judging by her robes, and she seemed to be in about fourth or fifth year. She seemed to be reading a letter. Fan mail, perhaps? Or maybe a letter from her agent or something? Yes, that would be it. Aimee noted to herself. Well, let’s have a look-see, then. Aimee thought mischieviously to herself as she approached the girl. The letter’s contents shone in the sunlight, and with her holding it up to the light like that, it was a surprise Aimee couldn’t clearly see the entire letter. However, much to her disappointment, all that could be seen through the other side of the paper was the recipient’s name. Realizing that the Gryffindor was probably the recipient, Aimee addressed her as such. “Hello, Rosaliz. What’s that you’re reading there?” She said, her sweet soft voice almost at a tone of mocking.

[Rosaliz Hernandez G6]

Rosaliz did present herself in a manner that made everything about her clear - in the way of her views and beliefs. It was the aspects about her that she thought were flawed, weak, or simply private that were concealed so well, nobody would be able to recognize the fact that she herself did not recognize these flaws. Her mind and personality composition was more complex than a labyrinth, consisting of elements that she herself instigated - whether accidentally or purposefully - to make getting to really know her that much more impossible. The idea of somebody who knew her so well that they would be able to predict what she was about to do next was hair-raisingly terrifying and Rosaliz could not let that door be opened to anybody. She had to remain locked up in her stone cold tomb-like existence, keeping people at a safe distance away with her toneless words and stony disposition. People oftentimes kept away from Rosaliz, for the sheer creepiness her dead-like persona seemed to be, but perhaps this was her intention all along. Who really knew? Rosaliz herself did not - as long as people were not attached to her by any ways or means, she would be okay. For now. People would try and infiltrate as much as heavenly possible and Rosaliz had to keep her eye out for that sort of thing. Perhaps this type of mindset came from having lived under such a strong force as her father was for so many years but Rosaliz was incredibly stubborn and strong-willed. Ambition was one of her House's characteristics and she knew that it had to be the driving force behind all of her actions and words. Ambition was always diverted when there were things such as relationships and human emotions playing into the picture, therefore, Rosaliz tried to restrain from getting immersed in such things every day of her life.


It was an incredibly strange note, one that could mean all sorts of things. Rosaliz was still convinced, somehow, that the person was trying to set her up but her curiosity. The parchment on which it was written on was rather fine and of good quality, as was the handwriting and scroll in which the note was written in. Quite obviously, the note came from a wealthy being or location. As she deducted this, what did it mean?. . . Although Rosaliz had a darker aura about her then most people, particularly of her own age, there was a very stubborn root that would absolutely refuse to be loosened. She wanted to survive. Live, be independent, be strong, stand on her own two feet with no restraints to anybody or anything. If it took extreme measures, Rosaliz was very willing to venture out into the risk-taking abyss. Her anger was a bit uncontrollable right now, although the Gryffindor was trying her best to keep her head as cool as possible, remembering not to get unhinged. It would only further her weakened state and Rosaliz simply could not afford that at this point.

“Hello, Rosaliz. What’s that you’re reading there?”

Slicing her thoughts in half sharply, Rosaliz listened to the cool voice that had quite suddenly floated in the air. Looking up, Rosaliz's metallic hazel eyes instantly caught sight of a dark-haired girl looking in her direction, expression unreadable but with a set look in her dark eyes. Rosaliz had never seen this person before nor did she care to recollect any occasion in which she may have come across her before, but the Gryffindor fourth year kept her expression composed, taking in the words of the girl. Her demeanor suggested polite, but perhaps it was to give off a false sense of security. Reassured, yes, very reassured and it was precisely at that moment Rosaliz felt a sense of. "Rosaliz Hernandez, to be exact," she stated, tone cool and ice-ridden. She continued to look the girl in the eyes, wondering how she perceived the current situation at hand. "And you were not interrupting anything; I was merely taking care of a few things. But it is none of your business on what I hold in my hands. It wouldn’t mean anything to you anyways…"


Sighing underneath her breath, inaudibly, Rosaliz took out her wand, muttered "Evanesco," beneath her breath, watching as the piece of parchment disappeared instantaneously. . . Of course, Rosaliz was very aloof and vague when it came to new people. The Gryffindor fourth year treated just about everybody she came across with an ice-ridden apathy, building a glacial wall in between herself and the other person. It was not to be unfriendly, it was because Rosaliz hated emotions and letting people see her in such an active state. Rather, she much preferred it if people got a heightened sense of awareness when they spoke to her. Either that or they could walk away for all Rosaliz cared. She did not look for friendship or companions and conversed with acquaintances whenever it seemed fit and appropriate. Rosaliz would only tolerate so much, however, before something would break within. It wasn't that Rosaliz was temperamental or explosive these days, she was simply more prone to be annoyed easier. Perhaps it pertained to the duels she had been a part of recently, one giving her a rather severe shoulder wound, but edginess and an even more heightened sense of paranoia had overtaken… Rosaliz was not a nosy person, persay, but she was rather curious. If somebody was going to take out random items from a container and spread them out in front of her, Rosaliz was going to be observant as to what precisely the objects were. Granted, much of the time the person got annoyed and put their things away from Rosaliz's sharp eyes but the way Rosaliz saw it, they were the ones dumping their stuff out in the first place. There was something about her that struck Rosaliz as either odd or different from most other people. Perhaps it was a combination of both but Rosaliz could not be certain that it was trusting. Rosaliz did not trust anybody, really, but there was definitely something surrounding this one. . . ensuring that she was not staring obtrusively, Rosaliz flickered her eyes onto the sky. Rosaliz looked back at the girl, wondering if there were any hints in her accent or appearance that would reveal her heritage.

Rosaliz did not like the sarcastic tone of the girl. Sarcasm was a type of speech a person used to make his or her argument sound more witty or clever. Rosaliz disliked using sarcasm; instead, she spoke in a very straightforward and direct manner, her words never having a double meaning. She continued to maintain eye contact with the girl - not to intimidate her, for Rosaliz did not think herself as fearful, but she was a naturally intense person who knew that communication was only effective if it was direct. She wondered how much of a challenge this girl was going to be. If she were to guess from her appearance, she would have deemed her a waste of time . . . but Rosaliz knew better than to underestimate those around her. Now here she was, pondering on the thought the letter that completely went against the theory she had convinced herself of four or five years before. Rosaliz, who hated to be proven wrong, felt utter frustration at this revelation. "Babbling nonsense is not going to be of any use to you right now, may you tell me what you want, or just bimley go away….if you want to go bother somebody there are a group of first years over there. " she stated tonelessly.