Chapter 8

The Christmas holidays had been delightful, if I could overlook the gift from Aunt Eileen. She gave me a book titled *How to Manage Your Hair*. It featured various haircare spells, potions, and animated demonstrations—comprehensive indeed.

But was Aunt Eileen hinting that I should grow out my hair? The book was all about maintaining long, beautiful locks. I ran a hand through my short hair, thinking it was just fine. However, short hair seemed to be out of fashion, and I hadn't seen any other girls at school with a hairstyle like mine.

Maybe I could give it a try someday? I casually placed the book on my shelf. The holiday ended, and once back at school, I soon forgot all about it.

Less than a month into the new term, I found myself lying dejectedly in the hospital wing. The reason for my unprecedented misery? House rivalries. During a heated clash between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I had become an unfortunate bystander, ending up in the hospital wing while the culprits remained unscathed.

Two third-year boys had apologized while still exchanging hostile glares. Their eyes practically sparked with electricity—truly a special kind of animosity. Madam Pomfrey promptly shooed them out when she brought me my potion. She assured me that after a good sleep, I'd be well enough to leave. Magic really is wonderful, I mused again.

When I awoke, it was pitch dark. On my bedside table, I found a note from Lily saying she and Severus had visited while I was asleep.

Leaving the hospital wing, I realized it was nearly curfew. Not in any hurry to return to the tower, I strolled leisurely through the castle. The silence was soothing, and Hogwarts at night exuded a mysterious charm that awakened my Gryffindor spirit.

I wandered the deserted corridors, exploring less-frequented areas, carefully avoiding the patrolling caretaker and the occasional mischievous ghost like Peeves. The sleeping portraits and hidden passageways piqued my curiosity.

As I passed a seemingly ordinary landscape painting, I thought I heard something from within. Keeping my footsteps silent, I approached the painting and pressed my ear close, straining to listen. Time seemed to stretch as I held my breath, waiting.

"Has she gone?" a cautious voice asked.

"Probably. No more sounds," replied a familiar voice.

"Close call. Almost..." The painting shifted, slowly swinging open to the left. I quickly moved to the right, watching a face peek out right in front of me. "Hi there, Black," I said with a broad grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

Footsteps echoed faintly from the end of the corridor. I pushed the startled Black back through the painting and slipped in behind him, closing it quietly. "Shh…"

The footsteps faded away. I turned to face the wary quartet—Sirius, James, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. "Well, well, look who I've found. Playing adventure games, are we?"

"Cut it out. You're the one sneaking around at night! Always hanging out with that Slytherin scum—" James began.

"James! Hill is our classmate," Remus interrupted, giving me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Hill. James is just... you know, sensitive about some things."

"It's alright. But remember, just as you think all Slytherins are evil and cunning, they think all Gryffindors are foolish and reckless. Don't give them reasons to believe those stereotypes. It's for the good of Gryffindor," I said coolly. "And you, Black, I understand you have issues with your Slytherin family, but they raised you. You can choose your path, but don't forget your roots. Abandoning your family earns disdain."

James glared at me furiously, while Sirius looked dejected, caught in the crossfire.

"You can choose to yell at me, Mr. Potter. I'll show you that Gryffindors can be calm and rational," I continued. Ignoring him, I turned to Remus. "Mr. Lupin, could you escort me back to the tower? I just left the hospital wing. I was a victim of one of those pointless Gryffindor-Slytherin skirmishes you know so well," I said, casting a disdainful glance at James.

"Of course," Remus agreed, opening the painting. "James, Sirius, Peter, I'll be back soon."

We walked silently through the corridor, and I sighed. "I didn't really need an escort. I just wanted to talk. You lot make me feel so frustrated. Severus is my best friend—we've known each other since we were five. He's not the evil, sneaky person you think he is. Being stuck between you, Gryffindor and Slytherin, house loyalty and friendship—it's a mess. Sometimes I wonder if things would've been easier if I were in Slytherin," I vented, knowing Remus understood I wasn't seeking answers.

"Thanks for listening, Remus. You're a good person, diligent in your studies. Despite hanging out with them, you've never been the one to provoke. We'd get along well if we were friends."

"We can be friends. Call me Remus. Next time, let's discuss homework together, Sawyer," he said with a kind smile.

"Of course, that'd be great," I replied, smiling back.

A loud rumbling interrupted our conversation. "Uh, that might be my stomach," I admitted, scratching my head sheepishly. "I missed dinner while sleeping in the hospital wing."

"Want to grab something from the kitchen?" Remus asked, stopping to look at me.

"The kitchen? You know where it is? Can students just go in?" I asked, astonished. 

"I'll take you. We found it during a nighttime excursion, thanks to a helpful Ravenclaw prefect," Remus explained, leading me downstairs.

"So it's not just Gryffindors who enjoy midnight adventures…" I mused.

"Haha, of course not. Especially the kitchen—it's a vital spot. Students from every house come here if they miss a meal," he laughed.

We soon reached the basement, stopping in front of a painting.

"Another painting? Is there a password, Remus?" I asked, intrigued by the fruit painting. How could fruit respond to a password?

"You just need to tickle the pear. Like this." Remus reached out and tickled the pear, which squirmed before the painting swung open.