Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding W...
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There was a blank space in Elowen's timeline, and she hadn't even realized it. It wasn't until Harry reminded her before a Transfiguration class one day about what had happened the other day in the school's corridor. That when she knew there was something very wrong. Apparently, the last person she had been seen with was Professor Snape. And, so she decided to ask the professor himself about her absence of memory. He simply said she had successfully made it to his office for a lesson and left. He guessed she had probably crossed or upset a Seventh-Year or so who had done this to her, which given her reputation as a troublemaker wouldn't be too surprising.
However, that had been days ago.
Presently Elowen was sitting in the Quidditch pitch stands cheering for Tracey who was training her Quidditch skills with Madame Hooch and some other enthusiastic players. Random students were scattered amongst the stands sporadically and she couldn't help but notice a particularly excited Hufflepuff girl that was taking photographs of the training at the very front. She was almost acting as if she was at the Quidditch World Cup and not some random practice. Somewhere in the audience sat that ghost that Nel had met last year. What was it that Malfoy had called him? Sulking Simon?
She couldn't help but stare at the transparent ghost. He wasn't like the other ones in the castle who seemed to have lived hundreds of years ago. He was modern even more than Moaning Myrtle. He wore a Hogwarts uniform too however; she couldn't tell what color his robes had once been. She didn't think he'd notice her blatant starring and became startled when he actually turned to shoot a nasty look in her direction.
"I know you're wondering," he spoke. If alive he would've probably been around the same age. She looked away hoping he wouldn't approach her and continue the conversation, but he did. "Everybody wonders." He added taking a seat next to her.
She tried not to converse with the ghostly boy and focused on keeping her head forward and eyes focused on Tracey who was performing some very elaborate flying loops at the moment.
"All I know is that I was killed," he sighed miserably, sinking into the bleachers, half of his translucent body vanishing.
She didn't want to interact with him, but her morbid curiosity got the best of her. "By a flying bludger?" She guessed.
"No," He spat at her with narrowed eyes. An angry expression crossing his features. "Dying is strange-" He said once again levitating to her side, his voice sounding calmer. "I don't remember how it happened, when or what it felt like, but I remember my friends were there."
"Your friends?" She questioned.
"I was tricked. Dared to come down here at midnight." He explained with bitter resentfulness.
"What?" She asked intrigued turning her legs in the direction of the ghost.
"Sorry we're late!" Distracted she turned back to see Theodore and Daphne who were reaching her side. Again, turning she saw that the ghost had vanished. Great. Just when the story was getting good.
