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"eunbyeol thinks back to the woman in pink, seated at the head table in the great hall with her biscuits and tea and falsely inflated sense of importance, and shivers."
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Saturday morning finds Eunbyeol sitting in the Great Hall alone. She nibbles at her pastry—some flaky French thing with chocolate—and wraps a hand around her tea, humming at the warmth. A copy of the Warlocks Complete Magazine lies in front of her. "Ministry Protests Rage On" is emblazoned on the front cover in a bold yellow font while a crowd with signs reading "Fudge you, Fudge!" and "You-Know-Who is back!" shouts silently. She frowns and flips the magazine open, scanning the article. With Harry Potter's shocking claim of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return last summer, Magical Britain has been going down in a tailspin. The results of the Triwizard Tournament still baffle many, and the general public still craves answers. What really happened in the infamous third task's maze? How did fellow Triwizard Tournament contestant Cedric Diggory die? Did he and Potter truly get Portkeyed to witness He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return? Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back at all? Are Potter's claims to be taken seriously, or are they the ramblings of a boy who is traumatized, confused, or even attention-hungry? Prime Minister Cornelius Fudge has publicly denied Potter's statements, but some of the public remains unconvinced, with wizards and witches rallying outside of the Ministry of Magic's headquarters to pressure them into "telling the truth" and "taking measures to protect the public." We interviewed protestors at the latest protest...
She looks up, glances up and down the empty table, and sighs. It's an odd, unspoken tradition for the Sorting Hat to place all the night owls in Ravenclaw. They stay up until the crack of dawn and survive on naps rather than sleep and then complain for hours on end about how tired they are. Eunbyeol, with pureblood mannerisms ingrained into her being, does the opposite, going to bed early—old people bedtime, as her dorm mates like to call it—and waking up with a full eight hours of sleep. Teachers often joke about how they're are always up too late to study, but the students know otherwise. Ravenclaws, save for a few, take partying as seriously as they take their academics, and they drink and dance the Friday night away and nurse their heavy hangovers in the morning. It's no surprise to see the Ravenclaw table mostly empty, but it is a surprise to see George Weasley ambling down to her table, hands tucked into the pockets of his muggle jeans. "I'm surprised to see you up," Eunbyeol smiles and tells him lightly. She sets down her pastry as he lowers himself onto the bench across from her. "I thought you'd be sleeping in with the rest of the student population."
George winces and spoons some eggs onto his plate with his left hand. "Couldn't really sleep. Fred and Lee sleep like the dead and snore like erumpents, so here I am." He wipes at his darkened eyes with his wrist and offers her a lopsided smile. He grabs a sausage then frowns at it, forgoing his knife to just stab it with a fork.
