The Seventh Year Boys dormitory in the Ravenclaw tower was, without a doubt, an eccentric room. Its inhabitants, each one peculiar in their own way, had the privilege -for a lack of a better term- of being an eclectic bunch. For one, there was Xenophilus Lovegood, the lad with the outlandish tales of wild creatures, even to wizarding standards. Then there was Gilderoy Lockhart, the boy who would give Naricissus a run for his galleons. Lastly, Gaspard Shingleton, the temperamental art geek. The last of this odd bunch was sitting in the middle of a mess; papers with scribbling circulated the wizard, documents of ideas, sketches of his own devices (most of which ended up being faulty or extremely far-fetched for his potential) and the presence of different trinkets of all forms and sizes. He was wearing his untidy locks in a make shift pony tail that could barely hold the unruly strands in place. If he were at home, his mother would "advice" -for this was the perfectly picked word for her nagging- to cut off, while his father would just ignored it; a lost case in the patriarch's eyes. A lose white shirt dangled upon his tiny frame, wrinkled and as disheveled as anything else he wore. The bottom half of the boy claimed a pair of black pants, the cuffs rolled up way above his ankles. And, as always, he wore no shoes, hardly needed for when one was in their own room.
It was when Gaspard was lost in thought, chewing on his shirt's collar that a strange sound rang out most unexpectedly.
Turning to look at the direction of the intrusion, he noticed an excited owl eager to get attention. He stood up from his makeshift altar of creation and waltz over to the window, navigating through the sea of sheets without a care, opening the window and letting the bird fly in. The late autumn air was cold, making the wizard shiver lightly. He then noticed a piece of parchment was neatly wrapped around its leg. Gaspard picked it, pet the bird and let it be on its way, soaring through the starless night. As he closed the window, he noticed the letter was addressed to him, and he rolled it open to see its contents. The mahogany orbs ran over the writing a couple of times, a message that felt more as the riddles every Ravenclaw had to answered to enter their own common room, rather than an invitation. The words hot chocolate was all that was necessary to know the identity of the sender. The plump, inviting lips curled into a deviant smile as he rushed out of his room.
As expected, the Common Room was empty, allowing Gaspard to scurry off unnoticed by his house mates. The rest of the castles was as desolate as the Ravenclaw Tower, all other students getting ready to sleep. Gaspard couldn't help but finding the beauty of the empty halls, only the sound of a snoring portrait here and there. He dare not light his wand, more with keeping his actions secrecy rather than avoiding the interrupt a painting's sleeping pattern.Â
The passage to the kitchen from the fifth floor was hardly long, or perhaps the journey was far more enjoyable under these circumstances; regardless, it took him no more than 10 minutes to reach the kitchens. He had been there a couple of times, but tried to avoid it. The house elves made too much of a ruckus when they had visitors, something that bothered the eagle. He was quite fond of the certain anonymity he had conjured for himself, the extreme bouts of attention rendering him uncomfortable. Tickling the pair, he entered, sighing in relief as to not meet the usual kitchen dwellers.
Gaspard surveyed the room, spotting his brunette companion already making use of the utilities Hogwarts's kitchen had to offer. "A-ha!" he exclaimed, bringing his hands forwards, fingertips touching each other. "So it was Dorcas Meadowes, with the candlestick, in the kitchen!" A reference to a muggle board game that he had loved in his childhood, growing up amongst muggles. He then rushed to her side, hand in the air, awaiting for a high five. His smile was rather cooky, teeth bared and eyes wide open. "Fancy time of night you pick to have me leave me common room, eh. If I didn't know any better, you were either going to kill me, have the house elves dispose of me corpse or you were trying to seduce me. Naughty, naughty." A chuckle emanated forth at his absurd accusations.Â
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