➵ Choice ➵ {DM and HP)

➵ Chapter 4 ➵

Eloise Foster

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Ok, I have to admit, Benjamin Carter isn't half bad.

I spoke with him throughout the feast, and he seems tolerable. He didn't ask a lot of questions about my transfer, for him, knowing I came from Beauxbatons was enough. I appreciate his laid back attitude and the way he didn't pry. I also learned he was homeschooled for a while, due to his dad's job as an auror, they had to move around a lot. He's quite funny too, even made me laugh once or twice.

After the feast, we follow the line of Ravenclaws out of the Great Hall and down the torch lit hallways. The lively chatter fills the hallways, and everyone seems content. Students of all shapes and sizes walk around me, dressed in dark robes and deep blue ties. Some sport Ravenclaw scarves and hats, and I even saw a few with deep blue book bags. I follow the crowd of students, as it winds around corners like a dog on a scent. We break off of the main hallways and step onto a staircase, and I look up and gasp.

Staircases stretch on above me, criss crossing over one another like eager children. The walls are lined with paintings, filling every spare space with moving people and animals. They smile and wave at us as we pass, and some shout friendly hellos from their beautiful safaris and wooded forests. We had stepped onto another staircase when suddenly, the ground beneath gives a great shudder and starts to move. I grip the railing next to me, as it swings slowly to the side.

"They love to move," explains a tall blonde girl near me.

Once the staircase is firmly attached to another, we continue on. We climb up for what feels like hours until we finally exit the staircases into another corridor. As we walk down the stone corridor, I peer out the small windows and see the ground miles below. The dark grounds are quiet and serene, and I can just make out the silhouette of the quidditch pitch, the tall hoops making it difficult to miss. I see a small light to the left of the quidditch pitch, and perceive a small hut, which must belong to the gamekeeper. The lake reflects the starry sky, glittering like diamonds, and I see a streak of light as a shooting star flies above.

The crowd suddenly shifts and starts to climb another staircase, this one much smaller and it slowly twirls, taking us higher and higher. We arrive at the top and I hear a loud voice yell from the front.

"The password is Cymbeline. You knock on the eagle and you must state the password before it allows you to continue."

Peculiar password, but I guess it makes sense, us being Ravenclaws. Of course they would use a Shakespearean play. It's quite a confusing play, if you ask me, although it's one of my mother's favorites. Maybe that's why I hate it. She has a knack for making anything remotely fun turn into torture.

I'm snapped from my thoughts as I hear someone open the door and I file in with the crowd.

As my eyes fall on the room, I gawk at the peaceful beauty around me. The walls are a deep blue, matching perfectly with the dark hardwood floors underfoot. Bookshelves cover two of the four walls, stretching up to the ceiling and full of hundreds of multicolored books. The bookshelves are only interrupted a few times for big arching windows to let in streams of silvery moonlight. A giant fireplace is nestled into one wall, giving the room a welcoming glow, and around the flames sit plush armchairs and couches, all the same beautiful deep blue as the walls. A few wood tables sit in a corner, beautifully carved vines running down the feet, and next to them stands a stairwell that must lead to the dormitories.

Big crowds of people start to head towards the small stairs and I follow the bobbing heads as they ascend. I see the youngest students get off at the first level, then the slightly older ones get off at the next. I count 5 levels, and on the fifth, I step off into a small, torchlit landing. Four dark wooden doors line the walls, each decorated with a bronze plaque, that dazzles in the fire light. I peer at the door closest to me and read the names written.