DOORWAYS || MARAUDERS ERA

ϟ41: SALAZAR SLYTHERIN MUST BE SHAKING IN HIS GRAVEϟ

The Blonde boy shot him a glare. Ignoring everyone, he stretched his hand towards Rhea. "I'm Anthony Goldstein. It's a pleasure to meet you, Rhea..." he gave a small pause.

"Arquette," Rhea said, looking shrewdly at him before shaking his hand cordially. "Rhea Arquette."

And perhaps that was how Rhea became friends with Anthony, Terry, Michael, Padma, Lisa and Isobel. Their bond of friendship and love began at Rhea's most despised place at Hogwarts—the Quidditch pitch. But soon, she would come to grudgingly thank Quidditch for the friends she had made in her first year.

"So," Anthony declared, grinning at her slightly. "Rhea Arquette, what was it you were telling me about conscience?"

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"Are you ready, then?"

"Nope."

"Fine. But are you going to do this?"

"Absolutely."

"You may die. Have you considered that?"

"Caelus, I consider that every time I wake up. And anyway, if I do die, it's Halloween. At least I'll have an ironic death."

"...Yes, because everyone would rather die ironically than heroically."

"Sarcasm is what I want to hear before my death. Lovely."

"Just go, Arquette. And get back alive or Dumbledore will be after my life."

"You're immortal, Caelus."

"Go before I blast your mortal self into tiny shards."

"Thanks, Caelus."

It was funny how an ex-Ravenclaw could be so stupid. And reckless.

Now, Rhea was quite intelligent. Not Hermione-intelligent, but normal intelligent. But over the years, she'd become accustomed to a rather bad habit—acting without thinking.

Anyways, the plan was quite simple.

And the fact that she had a plan made it seem scarier.

Since it was Halloween, everyone was at the Great Hall for the feast—Rhea was almost tempted to go there and eat something delicious.

"Pull yourself together," Rhea muttered. "Food is unimportant at the moment."

And so she walked moodily, away from the Room of Requirement with her bag slung over her shoulder. Even though there were no books in it, the bag was still quite heavy. But not because the thing in the bag was heavy, no. It was because the memories surrounding it were overwhelming. She could remember that day vividly even now—the memory had burnt itself into her mind.

She could now hear the distinct rumble from the Great Hall two floors below her. The shrieks, the laughter, the shouts... Rhea smiled slightly.

At least they were happy.

She opened the door to the bathroom and walked in slowly. The feast had just started, meaning she still had about two and a half hours left until curfew. Probably somewhere in party hall next to the Great Hall, Nearly Headless Nick would be having a party on the occasion of his four-hundred-something death anniversary...

"What are you doing here?"

Rhea didn't jump at the voice. She was in her bathroom after all.